Shudder. A
shiver runs down his back. Throb throb.
His temples throb in a frenzy of anger. A buzz of excitement runs through his
body. She shudders underneath him. Leaves crunch and twigs snap under the
weight of their bodies. The fabric gives
away in his hands, to soft flesh. Screams fill the air. Deafening. Shrill. Shut up! Shut up! No! He had stuffed
handfuls of dirt into the mouth of the whore before. Grunt grunt. A hungry pig. He’s crushing her small weak body. Soft. He doesn’t bother freeing himself
from his slacks. Soft. Weak. Weaker. She’s so weak. He laughs. Howls. Loud enough to drown out her
shrill screams. Morphing. He howls
like a beast. A God. A man. Mad. The Devil. Hungry. Insatiable. He is
everything. Nothing. He is nothing.
‘YOU’RE
NOTHING! A USELESS LITTLE BOY!’ the ugly old hag would scream as she beat him bloody.
He lets out a guttural cry. Hot tears stream down his face. His fingers pull
fistfuls of his hair in a primal desperation. He paws at the limp body beneath
him. Spit spraying her plain pale pubescent face. Grunt grunt. His tongue against her cheek. Warm. He touches her chest. Soft.
Pinching, squeezing and pushing down so hard he feels her brittle ribs crack.
He wanted to crush her. His teeth graze her cheek biting at the soft flesh. Warm. Weak. Soft. Wet. Slippery. Pungent. Urine. She had started mewling. Weak. Small and pathetic. Weak. Weak. ‘YOU’RE WEAK! PATHETIC!’the old hag would snarl. He snarled. He had her ugly scowl, her hot ugly
rage. The soaked dress tossed, she lay bare under him.
Heaving.
Her ugly scowl.
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STAB STAB!
The
knife cuts her soft weak throat.
Soft.
The
painted whore laughed.
Hard.
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STAB STAB!
Again and again!
Blood pours out a crimson velvet. Hard.
He spreads her legs. Crotch against hers. Hard.
Slashes across her chest blooming red. White skin sliced. Hard. She squirms. Warm. Warm.
He’s panting, moaning. Dry leaves around them are now soaked. Black. They look
black. Moan. She’s beautiful, colored
red and warm. His fingers digging into the cuts. Violating her flesh.
Her
soft meat, like a sweet peach.
Her ugly scowl, a laughing whore, meek disappointment.
Throbbing.
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Hard.
The
knife cuts the girl’s flesh, he carves her face. Just for him. He peels her
skin back like a split cherry. His mouth meets the gash on her check. Thrusting. His tongue in and out the
warm gash. Thrusting. The knife in and out her soft stomach. Thrusting. His hips against her slack
body. Hard. Hard. Grunting. He frees
himself. Knife tossed, gripping himself, he stares down at his masterpiece.
His. His. His. Throbbing. His body
shakes. Shudder. Her eyes were wide
open, staring, blank. Her face carved. Red spread over the pale white canvas of
her body. Legs spread wide. The white of her inner thighs and the soft pink are
unstained, untouched, unharmed. Grunt
grunt. Both hands on her middle. Smearing the blood across her stomach. Up
and down her body, fingers reaching into the warmth inside of her gaping bloody
slashes.
Poke.
Warm.
Prod.
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Wiggle.
Warm.
Moan.
Slippery.
Slide.
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Grunt.
A
wild boar.
HARD HARD!
Face
buried the sticky slippery crimson wet.
Lapping
at the bloody gashes.
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Split
cherries.
Wet. Oozing.
Grunt.
Moan.
Pant.
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Oozing.
Shiver. Shudder.
HOWL!
Red.
Bursts of flashing white.
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Black.
Red.
Grunt.
Grunt.
Grunt.
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Handfuls
of wet dirt and leaves soaked. A broad swipe of black across her torso. Mud on
her face. A little woodland nymph. A bed of leaves, thorns. Her soft pink, cut,
carved. Soft. Eyes wide, staring,
accusing.
Her ugly scowl, a laughing whore, meek
disappointment.
Grunt.
Slash slash! The
blade slices. A soft pink oozes. An X carved on each eye. Boneless with
release. He lay back down in the mess he made.
THE END
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H. Fernando is currently completing her Bachelors in Arts and Social sciences, double majoring in Gender & Sexuality studies and Writing. As a horror enthusiast, she enjoys dabbling in disturbing oddities and unconventional narratives.
Those religious icons really get around. This time it’s a journey to visit the Deep Ones. And Dracula’s Castle. Because everyone has to be a tourist now and then, and what’s the point if you don’t pick up a souvenir or two?
This was a gift for a friend for their sea life monster theme bathroom. It started as one of those old school wood plaques where the picture is waxed on. And the eyes were originally that creepy – all I did was add the tentacles. So don’t blame the overall weirdness on me, it wasn’t all my doing.
Oh, and apparently Mary wanted in on the action, so she’s gone to Dracula’s Castle for a bite. She even brought back her own religious icons souvenirs…
So this one isn’t as old, nor is it real wood. But it still totally goes with Mary’s journey. And it’s also a little blacklight reactive with the flowers.
So I just keep on going… Here are some more repaint porcelain figurines and other madcap painting. OK maybe some of them aren’t porcelain, but still totally redone.
This Pennywise clown started as some plastic figurine from Italy. I was drawn to this because of the pretty marble base. It’s a nice touch, don’t you think? I’ve seen others in this series and honestly they’re all kind of creepy to start with, so they really lend themselves towards repaint prospects. Perhaps I’ll pick up more to redo in similar ways later on… Oh, and the eyes are blacklight sensitive, in case he wasn’t creepy enough already.
With all of the new movie hype, I couldn’t resist a throwback to the classic Beetlejuice, and this little bride figurine and teddy bear were just too perfect. Featuring more blacklight sensitive accents, like her veil flowers. And I don’t know why she only has one glove, I blame it on the 1980s… Or maybe she was just that drunk (you’d have to be for that wedding)…
So yeah, all those preppers ready for the zombie apocalypse – you know some of them are gonna get bitten. It’s in the script, what can I say? More blacklight eyes, cause why not?
I admit I haven’t seen this film, but it sure looks fun. Mathilda, eat your heart out. Literally.
OK so this isn’t a repaint. Nor is it porcelain. What is it even doing here? Well, she’s cool and ready for a party and kinda reminded me of Abigail, so she sort of just tagged along. Sexy Sadie started as an Avon perfume bottle with a fragrance I didn’t care for (I think it was called Head Over Heels). Because honestly the bottle topper was all that mattered. And now she has her own disco dancing platform. What more could a vampish vixen want?
I wrote this script for Beyond the Veil awhile back, exploring the bond between two twin sisters, Edith and Edna, who had lived their lives together. There was a terrible car crash and someone didn’t make it. The other is trying to contact them beyond the veil…
Beyond the Veil Setting:
Two women reach out to one another individually in a séance setting.
One sits on one side of a dining table. The other sits at the other side. Each studies a candle just beyond her reach; there is darkness between the two candles. The long table is barely hinted at in the interstice between the two but it is clearly present.
The camera is stationary showing both in profile staring through each other.
The women are both portrayed by the same actress who is also the voice of the narrator, who is unseen. All three voices are identical so that it is impossible to tell which of the two women the narrator is supposed to represent.
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Both women are spliced into the same scene. They are together but apart. The two candles remain for the duration of filming so that the two halves of the film can either be overlapped (so that both women appear incorporeal) or cut and sandwiched in the middle between the candles (so both women appear physically present). It is possible to set the scene thusly using both methods in different parts of the story, with both women seemingly flickering in and out of being, both individually and apart.
Script:
I. Black, audio only.
Narrator:
I was riding with my twin sister.
We were in a terrible car crash.
The car drove over the median and rolled.
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It spun off the road where it caught fire.
There was smoke everywhere.
My sister didn’t make it.
II. Fade in to the long table with two lit candles; flames flickering.
Two women are just sitting at either end.
They stare blankly through each other.
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Call and Response
Edith: Now I’m trying to contact her…
Edna: …beyond the veil.
Simultaneous:
Edith: Edna, do you hear me?
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Edna: Edith, do you hear me?
Together (In Unison):
If you hear me, knock three times.
Narrator:
Knock.
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Knock.
Knock.
Call and Response:
Edith: I miss you terribly.
Edna: I miss you so much.
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Edith: Do you remember…
Edna: … the car crash?
Edith: We rolled…
Edna: … over the median.
Edith: There was fire.
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Edna: There was smoke.
Edith: I could hear the sirens.
Edna: They were coming…
Edith: … to rescue us.
Edna: But they were so far away.
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Edith: So far…
Edna: … away….
Simultaneous:
Edith: Are you okay?
Edna: Are you hurt?
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Together (In Unison):
Knock three times for yes. Knock once for no.
Narrator:
Knock
– pause –
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Knock
– pause –
Together (Syncopated):
What’s it like, on the other side?
– long pause –
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Simultaneous:
Edith: I miss you, Edna.
Edna: I miss you, Edith.
Together (Syncopated):
It’s so lonely here.
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Call and Response:
Edith: There’s no one here.
Edna: I’m all alone.
Edith: Without you…
Edna: …the spark of life…
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Edith: …is gone…
Edna: … so far away.
– pause –
Together (Entirely Out of Sync):
It’s so dark.
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III. Fade out to black
Narrator:
I was riding with my twin sister.
We were in a terrible car crash.
The car drove over the median and rolled.
It spun off the road where it caught fire.
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There was smoke everywhere.
I didn’t make it.
I had planned to actually turn this into the video for which it was written, but quickly discovered that my plans for recording required a space that was too drastically different from my new house (and new large gaming table) and that my vision for filming could not be well-fully executed or realized. So now it exists as a script only.
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