Julian Lewis

It was supposed to be a nice summer, one where Jules would spend time out with his friends drinking beers. He remembered the plans, counted every second, and had even gone to the store to get some new fishing bait. That summer, he had just turned twenty-three and was living his life. He called over his friends, and telling them to grab beer on the way.

The summer evening was far too quiet, the light of a headlamp the only thing making sure Jules didn't step in a ditch and break a leg. Deciding he suddenly needed a piss, he wedged himself off the path and went to one of the many fallen logs. He heard the sound of cicadas and crickets around, and then he noticed the mushrooms on another tree nearby. Finishing his business, he went over to the mushrooms and squatted down.

"Well, wha'do we have here?" He whispered to himself, coming a hand through his dirty blonde hair before poking one. It oozed something akin to syrup, so he looked at his finger and, out of everything his gut said, licked it. It tasted a bit like dirt, as expected. Jules wasn't too sure what the hell he was expecting.

Jules eventually returned to the lake where his friends were, the campfire already half burned out. "Y'all headin' out soon?" Julian asked, plopping himself onto a chair. "Nah, the old lady won't mind. We can stay 'til the fire completely dies." Steve said, that stupid grin on his face. Julian had always hated his grin, his teeth were too fucking perfect. The night kept going, dragging on, and Julian felt.. hot. Oddly hot, as if his blood was boiling.

Fairly enough, Julian had no idea anything was wrong until he found himself beating Steven over the head with the wrench the old man insisted on keeping around his belt.

All of that was a decade ago, and that fungus he found had spread through the birch forest like wildfire. It infected people, made them go mad before turning into a trypophobes worst nightmare. It had stayed within a secluded area, luckily, allowing researchers to get samples and study it. The ways to cure the 'illness' before reaching its peak was simple; smother it. No matter the stage, no matter if it's with a pile of mud, smother the area and don't let it breathe.

The sound of the sink faucet filled the bathroom as Julian washed his face, his eyes surrounded by dark circles from his lack of sleep. He looked at himself in the broken mirror, his brain constantly replaying the day he murdered his friends and family. Honestly, he should have turned himself in and taken every sentence the judge would give, but he didn't. He ran like a man who had something left to lose when he didn't.

He had been infected far too many times by the fungus, and every time he remembered to suffocate the area. He forgot this time though, and it had managed to form vents. He grabbed a few cotton pads, duct tape, and a thick medical pad used to stifle bleeding. He put the cotton on first, then the medical pad, then the tape. He didn't care if it'll eventually rip out his chest hair, just as long as it died.

Julian grumbled, scratching his jaw before opting to brush his teeth for the second time that morning. He heard footsteps on his porch, his eyes narrowing before he turned and went to the door. "Who is it and what'dya want?" He said, voice muffled from his toothbrush and a mouth full of toothpaste.

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