Yoga Class

    “Well…” considered Roger, “I’m not really sure about it. I mean, I’ve never really done yoga before, and it all just seems a little weird to me.”

   “Dear, you’re going to love it.” reposed his wife, “Trust me, I’ve been doing it every day since the kids left, and I can’t begin to tell you how much better I feel.”

   Roger continued to think over the matter in silence, when his wife continued. “Plus, it might help with your... arthritis.”

    He sighed, as if the utterance of his affliction put a great deal of shame on him. Ever since his diagnoses at age sixty-eight, Roger spent a good deal of his time recalling the years when his physicality was ideal; when he would wake up every morning and run continuously for an hour, when he would bench press his weight twofold, when he played football with his college acquaintances and never felt greater when he scored a touchdown. The innumerable physical undertakings he used to commence whenever he felt inclined were to him now like a strange dream. Certainly its strangeness was equal to its cheeriness, but, like all of its kind, it grew more and more impossible as he continued to think of it.

    “Yeah,” he said, forgetting what his wife had said to have caused him to speak, “I suppose.” She held his hand and smiled. “We’ll go there this weekend, you and I. It’ll be fun.” He smiled too.

    A tiny, red car parked in front of a yoga studio. Within sat Roger in the driver’s seat, his wife in the passenger's seat next to him. He wore a thin, sleeveless shirt over his portly torso. It clung to his skin as to emphasize how much he had let himself go. “Well,” he thought, proceeding a moment of hesitation, “at least it’s comfortable.”

    They entered the building. Inside stood a large group of women of varying ages, some of which seemed to be stretching in preparation of the session. The stretches alone, thought Roger, seemed impossible for him to do.

    “Alright! Let’s get started” shouted the instructor, as her eyes glanced at Roger. “Wow, Lizzy! Looks like you were finally able to convince Roger to tag along. We’ve heard a lot about you!”

    “Oh, have you now?” he thought to himself, smiling uncomfortably. Following a faint group chuckle, the session began.

    “So, we’ll start with a downward facing dog.” The group simultaneously placed their hands and knees onto the ground, then, following an exhalation, extended their hips upwards to the ceiling, all the while Roger wondering what on earth kind of a name was “downward facing dog?”

    “Next, we’ll do a plow pose.”

    “...Good God…” thought Roger. The group proceeded to lay on the ground, then lifted their legs behind their head. Following this action, Roger heard something crack from his back which, to his surprise and delight, felt quite good.

    Following several more exercises, Roger felt that the quality of his old body and mind had improved considerably. He was content with his accomplishments today, and could go home a happier man, certainly.
“Alright everybody,” continued the instructor, “it looks like it’s about time to go. But before we depart, let’s all do it first.” Every person there, with the exception of Roger, nodded their heads in an eerie synchrony. The ladies assembled themselves into a large circle, and gazed directly onward, not into each other’s eyes, but upon some vacant space or some imperceptible object of wonder. Then, they each proceeded to intensify their breathing to such an extent as to worry and unnerve Roger.

    “Honey?” he uttered as he neared his wife, “what’s happening? Are you alright?” Upon the end of his frightful inquiry, his wife, and the others, simultaneously began to produce, from the bones of their necks, a succession of loud and hideous cracks. Roger heard these sounds and, in trepidation, fell to the ground, gazing upward at the horrendous sight of his beloved’s neck, and the necks of her peers, begin to extend upwards to an inhuman length. It grew three feet high; no, four feet, five, six, seven. The length increased to ten feet at the least.
As the process of this unnatural growth transpired, the cracking; the apparent breaking of bones and the tearing of flesh became louder and louder. The skin about the source of this extension, too, tore open, first revealing the bloody, muscular interior, then, upon its destruction, there was exposed a mysterious, white piece of tissue extending from the base of the neck. Robert at first believed this to be the spine, but its composition rendered it saturated and flexible like a slug. The now white appendages of these women, when they reached their maximum heights, commenced an entwining with one another, and manifested into a gigantic, spherical cage around the trembling Roger.

    Within the strange womb, Roger wept like a weak, cowardice infant; his cheeks were rosy and wet. His sobs nearly surpassed the insufferable pulsations of the tubes about him in audibility. Then, he heard a voice, a soft, serene voice that seemed pleasantly familiar to him, but was fouled by monotony and indifference. “Roger...” it whispered, “it’s me… Lizzy… the woman you love… we’re going to make you well again…”

    “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” he recoiled, “WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WIFE?! DID… DID YOU EAT HER?!”

    “Roger… I have become healthy… I have blossomed into this beautiful frame… I am happy now.”

    “...Lizzy…” Roger quivered, “what are you talking about?” Following this inquiry, tiny lifeless infants protruded inwards from the gelatinous walls and grasped at Roger.

    “I was becoming old, darling, and my body was no longer capable of performing the deeds as it had once done in its youth. I have been made young and flexible again! And I thank the almighty Infestation for this. I thank It endlessly in my prayers while you sleep at night. I ask it now to grant you the same capabilities I now have.”

    The infants slithered their way into Roger’s shirt. He could feel the freezing, slimy texture of the creatures on his chest. The pain from their claws digging into his skin grew more acute until Roger let out a horrid scream. The foul infants soon tore open his skin and flesh, and bathed in the blood which burst from the vast incision, before gaining entrance into his rib cage, and eating his heart, like starving dogs with a piece of meat. Roger’s bloodcurdling screams gradually subsided, as his vision blurred, and all became white.

    “Well,” Roger said to his wife, while they both stood side by side, cleaning the kitchen, “that yoga class really did wonders for me. Look what I can do now!” Roger extended his neck three feet to his right, tearing it open in an explosion of blood, and kissed his wife’s cheek. They both laughed and embraced one another, totally content with how they spent the day.