🩸 Specimen 7A: Under My Skin at Rewind



🎵 Song of the Day: “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” – Bauhaus
(Let it play while the sun sets. Let it echo in your ears like footsteps in an empty hallway.)


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⚠️ Content Warning: This entry contains themes of body horror, paranoia, and psychological disintegration.


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The crawl started subtly—an itch just beneath the skin.
Then the heat came. Not a fever, but something colder… like an infection that hadn’t decided what it wanted to be yet. 🥶

I shouldn’t have been outside. I should’ve been wrapped in a blanket, scrolling horror forums, pretending this wasn’t happening.
But instead, I was in the car with Val, Rhett, and Danny—chasing a ghost of a video store called Rewind.
Or maybe just chasing proof I wasn’t losing my mind. 🧠

We passed the gas station with the flickering sign. The billboard that’s always blank.
The sky above us turned a deep, bruised purple, like something was spreading across the atmosphere itself. ☁️💜

> “This is dumb,” Rhett said for the tenth time.
“We’re gonna find a pile of raccoons watching Saw 2,” Danny joked.
Val said nothing. She just stared ahead, her eyes distant, calculating.



Then we turned the bend.
And there it was.


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📼 Rewind Appears

A single, blazing beacon in the encroaching gloom.
“REWIND” lit the storefront in cursive red neon—impossibly bright, unnaturally untouched.
Not just open.
Alive. 🔴

> “It’s always been there,” I said aloud.
“You’ve said that before,” Val replied, still not looking at me.



The door groaned open before we touched it—like it had been waiting. 🚪

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of melted plastic, ozone, and forgotten popcorn. 🍿
The place looked untouched by time. Maybe untouched by reality.

Danny and Rhett darted toward the horror section, their excited voices muffled by the stillness.
But I wasn’t there for the shelves.

Something pulled me forward—toward the counter.
And toward him.


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🧍‍♂️ The Clerk

He stood exactly where I remembered him, even if I’m no longer sure I remember anything clearly.
Polishing the glass in slow, circular motions—ritualistic.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. I’m not sure it reached anything human. 🫣

> “Did you give me something?” I asked.



His smile didn’t break, but it shifted—like he’d been waiting for this question.

> “Not exactly,” he said.



> “Three weeks ago… maybe more. I woke up next to a bottle. Thick, purple liquid. Burned going down. Made the world... louder. You were there. Weren’t you?”



> (A long pause. His eyes, unblinking, didn’t look at me—they looked through me.)



> “I didn’t give you anything,” he said. “I just help people walk through the door.”



> “Walk through the door to what?”



> “That’s not mine to explain.”



From beneath the counter, he placed a blank VHS tape in front of me. 📼
No title. No markings. Just a sticker: “Specimen 7A.”

> “Maybe this has your answer,” he said, voice lower now. “Maybe it doesn’t. But it’s not for them. Just for you.”



I turned toward the others—still laughing at something onscreen.
When I looked again, the counter was empty.
The clerk was simply gone. ☁️

But the tape remained—warm to the touch.
Like it had just been pulled from a chest cavity.
Its heat matched the one burning under my skin. 🔥


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🦠 Splintered Truths

Back in the viewing lounge, we popped in Splinter (2008)—a tight, vicious little horror film about a parasitic infection that hijacks your limbs and wears you like a meat suit. 🧟‍♂️

It doesn’t ask.
It takes.

Every jerky movement on screen echoed in my own joints.
Every bone snap, every muscle twitch—familiar. Too familiar.

> The parasite wasn’t just in the movie.
It was in me.
Right now.
I just hadn’t admitted it until now.




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🧪 Shelf of Secrets Update

📦 New Item: Broken Microscope Lens
🔍 Markings: “7A-13”
🧴 Residue: Purple, viscous, humming with static
🎒 Found: Tucked deep inside a side pocket of my backpack I swore was empty
📝 Notes: I don’t remember packing it. But when I held it up to the light…
Something blinked back.
Not a reflection. Not a trick of the eye.
Something alive. Something aware. 👁️


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🕳️ Final Thoughts

I’ll watch the tape tonight.
Every instinct screams to burn it—to run. 🏃‍♂️
But I can’t. The truth is already in me.
Maybe it always was.

And if I don’t understand it…
What’s left of me might not survive the next phase.

This isn’t just a story anymore.
It’s a signal.
And it’s spreading. 📡

And if you’re still reading...
maybe you’ve already received it too.


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Stick around. Subscribe. Share.

And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me your favorite scary movie, urban legend, or your own unexplainable horror memory.
We’re just getting started—and things are about to get truly dark.

What hidden secrets are you uncovering? Share them below…
if you dare.

📼 thenightlystoryteller.blogspot.com



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