New Me, In the Flesh by Sean MacKendrick

New Me, In the Flesh by Sean MacKendrick

Old skin stretches and strains around my fist, refusing to tear open. Even dead, it’s stubborn and resistant. I guess the old me was tougher than she sometimes felt.

By flexing my arm and twisting my body I’m able to pull the skin tight enough that it splits at the tip of my elbow. Now I can work my fingers into the seam and peel down my forearm. One hand free, better able to grip, and I dig into the decaying shell around me.

It never gets easier. No matter how many times I’ve emerged renewed from my old body it is always a struggle. Hundreds, maybe thousands of times. It’s impossible to keep an accurate count. I’m so old I can no longer remember the beginning. If I try, I can conjure up flashes of far-gone days, battling humans whose only weapons are rocks strapped to sticks, but at this point, I can’t really be certain how much of that is my imagination.

Not that it matters. Soon I’ll be brand new, the latest old version of me just another blurring memory.

I wrap a clump of hair around my fist and yank upward. Everything goes dark as my old face slides over my eyes, and then it rips free at the mouth, and my vision is clearer than it has been in years. Since last time I did this.

It was nice hair. Long and thick. I took care of my looks this time. Maybe too much care. Was I vain? I wonder.

I think I was good. I hope I was good. I made a sincere effort to be nice. I tried to be friendly and supportive to my friends. I hope they’ll miss me. Not because I want them to be sad but because I’d like to think their lives were better having me around. Dani will miss me, of that I am confident. Probably Anvik, too.

Not Alicia. Most of my friends enjoyed my unfiltered open honesty, I think. Alicia though, she didn’t appreciate my comments regarding Taylor. I guess I didn’t need to tell her, I just thought she could do better. Honesty can exist alongside tact, I do realize. The old me wasn’t exactly polite, in retrospect. Was I a good friend after all?

Did they think I was rude?

Did I make them feel important to me?

Was I there when it mattered to them?

Time to be honest. I never remember birthdays; those always felt like a foreign concept. Anvik loves birthdays though, and it hurt his feelings every time I skipped one of his parties.

I didn’t help Faith move or offer Dani a place to stay when she needed it.

I didn’t provide solace of any sort to Alicia during her divorce, never mind whether I called it ahead of time or not. And what I did to Taylor afterward didn’t help anything at all, in fact it traumatized Alicia. I got that one wrong.

Might as well face facts, old me wasn’t a great friend. Well, she’s gone now and so are all those failures. I’ll discard them with the old flesh.

The strips of dead skin are remnants of a person who sometimes forgot to be nice. And who lied and was at times greedy and violent.

I think I’m often too violent. Humans are fragile, so easy to damage.

They say killing is one of the biggest sins, even though some people clearly require it. That man watching Faith’s kids, I saw the intentions in his eyes. He deserved what I did to him. The man who tried to follow me home, he needed to be stopped.

The scar he left on my shoulder gives way as I tug my old arm skin free like a sleeve.

Enough of this reminiscing and regret! Turn the page. Molting offers a fresh start with a fresh body. If I’ve allowed my darker nature to control me lately, that can change. This time, this me, I’ll be good through and through. Humans have evolved and I can, too.

My foot is the last piece I manage to shed. Some thin rubbery tendon managed to wrap itself around my toes. It takes time to untangle it all, and then into the trash bag in goes, with the rest of my old skin.

The old flesh has already started to dissolve. Before long it’s going to be unrecognizable as anything humanoid shaped, which is useful. Then it will dissolve into sludge, which is less useful. I need to get it out of here before it slops out and soaks into the floor.

I’ll need some clothes before I go out. Something cotton or silk; my sensitive new skin prickles in the open air. I’ve got some nice cashmere but it’s far too hot and humid to consider anything so heavy as wool.

There’s a dumpster three blocks away, behind a bakery. Three blocks is far enough. I want to be rid of this tissue and home again as soon as possible There’s a lot to do tomorrow. New ids, new job, finding a new place to live far from here.

Someone bumps into me as I near the dumpster. He’s a big man, loud and unsteady. Alcohol wafts off him, all the worse when he turns and breathes at me.

“Sorry,” I rasp. My voice is shaky, new vocal cords still firming up. I hate how timid I sound.

I walk right past the bakery because now the man is following, and I can’t let anyone see me discard my old skin. Even in his current state of advanced inebriation, he might remember.

“Hey, where you going?” He keeps stepping into my path, grinning at me, trying to get my attention.

The old me was violent, carelessly so. Old me would have ripped this guy in half, never mind the risk of someone finding the pieces after. I think he may deserve that, given his aggression. But I don’t need to attack. Instead, I can just keep walking and let him live to regret his choices in the morning. Turn the other cheek, as they say. New me is going to be good, and kind. I am thoughtful and giving. I am born anew, free of sin. No more hurting anyone emotionally or physically.

He grabs my arm. Whisky fumes stream out his flared nostrils. “I’m talking to you, bitch.”

Well, maybe just the once more.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Sean MacKendrick 2025

Image Source: Dey from Fictom.com