The Toxin Settles In

It started with the snapper. A firm, red slab of flesh he’d filleted himself, its scent still whispering of seawater and blood. Ethan chewed slowly, savoring the richness of the meat, the heat of the pan still lingering in its fibers.

By the time he set his fork down, the world had begun to shift.

First, his fingertips tingled, then his palms, then something deeper — something threading itself through his nerves like a net tightening. He wiped his brow, though he wasn’t sweating. The wine tasted metallic. The room flickered between too bright and too dim. He exhaled, slow, controlled. Food poisoning. He could ride this out.

But then his wife touched his arm, and it burned like ice.

“You’re shivering,” she said, though he wasn’t.

A static hum buzzed in his skull, vibrating at the edges of his teeth. He tried to stand, but the floor tipped forward, and suddenly, he wasn’t in his dining room anymore. He was back on the boat, back in the sun, back where he’d pulled the fish from the reef, its glassy eyes reflecting something wrong — something he should have noticed.

“Ethan?” His wife’s voice sounded distant, warped. The walls, pulsed, like they were breathing.

His skin felt stretched too tight, like something was trying to claw its way out. He wanted to scream, but his tongue felt too thick, foreign. Something else had settled inside him — something curling around his spine, whispering along his veins.

A laugh bubbled up from his throat, raw and wet.

The fish was already dead when he ate it. He just hadn’t realized it would take him with it.