Kyle, Todd and Lance stared at the swirling blood in the toilet stool. Floating in the crimson ocean was a small turd and a disintegrating sheet of toilet paper. It looked as though the commode had been flushed but didnāt fully do so. Its contents bobbed up and down like buoys in a sea of red.
āWell, this proves it then. You have sewer alligators,ā Lance proclaimed. āThereās no other explanation.ā
āAre you certain your mom was the last one to use it?ā Todd asked.
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āYeah,ā Kyle replied. āIām pretty sure she must have been bit on the butt. Maybe thatās why she didnāt flush all the way.ā
āYour toilet is crap ā it never flushes unless you hold it down,ā Todd quipped. āMy mom said women bleed every month unless theyāre going to have a baby.ā
āThatās ludicrous!ā Lance exclaimed. āItās definitely sewer alligators. What would your mom know ā sheās just a dippy hippie. Nothing bleeds every month and doesnāt die.ā
āThatās what my mom said,ā Todd shrugged. āShe would know.ā
āWell, if your mom does bleed every month, she should get that looked at,ā Lance ribbed. āShe might have cancer or something.ā
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Kyle reached over and flushed the toilet, holding the handle down for far longer than should have been necessary. The three boys watched as the ocean of red swirled into a wide whirlpool and was swallowed by the porcelain basin along with the floaters.
Kyle unzipped his pants to pee and stood at the ready, as heād intended to do when heād first encountered the bloody stool. He hadnāt planned to interrupt their game of Ultimate Demolition Derby to put on a show for his best friends, but they were in between rounds and heād fetched them when he found the blood in the toilet.
āMy mom wouldnāt have held the handle down to flush if there was a sewer alligator trying to chomp on her butt,ā Kyle retorted as he peed. āShe was probably doing good to flee with her life.ā He eyed the toilet warily.
āWe were in the other room and she didnāt scream or yell or anything,ā Todd observed. āAnd thereās no such thing as sewer alligators. So it must be that women bleeding thing.ā
āMy mom is a total bad ass,ā Kyle defended indignantly, seemingly somewhat offended. āShe took on a whole wasp nest with a can of hairspray, a lighter and a pair of kitchen scissors. Sheās not going to cry because of a little sewer alligator.ā
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āIf your momās such a badass, then why didnāt she stay and fight the sewer alligator?ā Todd chided.
āKyleās right, his mom is a badass. I was here during that wasp thing ā it was crazy,ā Lance stated manner-of-factly. āAnd there are too sewer alligators. I read about it in a magazine. Kyleās mom must have managed to drive it back down the toilet. Thatās why it isnāt here. You donāt stick around to fight sewer alligatorsā¦ā
Todd rolled his eyes, āI told you thereās no such thing as sewer alligators.ā
āWell, if youāre so sure, then why donāt you keep watch? Or are you too scared?ā Lance said.
Kyle zipped up his pants and flushed, holding down the handle again. The basin emptied in an eddy. It refilled with water and just sat there ominously.
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āFine,ā Todd shouted at Lance.
āYou have to stay and watch the toilet until we say you can leave,ā Lance smirked, āOr until someone else needs to use it and kicks you out.ā
āWhatever.ā Todd shook his head and hunkered down. He slid his phone out of his pocket and began playing Candy Crash Test Dummies. He muttered under his breath, āThereās still no such thing as sewer alligatorsā¦ā
Kyle and Lance returned to the living room to resume their racing game. Less than three minutes later a shrill yelp resounded forth from the bathroom. They came running.
Todd was standing there flustered, pointing at the toilet and waving his finger. He shook all over, his skin blanched to a ghostly pale.
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āSee, I told you, there are too sewer alligators,ā Lance proudly declared.
āThat was no gator,ā Todd gasped. āThat was a rat the size of my dog Freet-O.ā
āA Chihuahua-sized rat?!ā Kyle exclaimed, eyes growing wide. He edged towards the commode and peered in from the side. There was nothing inside, just water. He reached across the basin and dropped the lid as fast as he could. It landed with a resounding thud.
The three boys raced out of the bathroom and left the toilet to its own devices. It wasnāt worth waiting around to see what foul creatures lurked within. Kyleās mom was going to have to deal with the critter problem on her own.
Jennifer Weigel is a multi-disciplinary mixed media conceptual artist residing in Kansas USA. Weigel utilizes a wide range of media to convey her ideas, including assemblage, drawing, fibers, installation, jewelry, painting, performance, photography, sculpture, video and writing. You can find more of her work at:
https://www.jenniferweigelart.com/
https://www.jenniferweigelprojects.com/
https://jenniferweigelwords.wordpress.com/
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 didnāt make it. The other is trying to contact them beyond the veil…
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 didnāt 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 Iām trying to contact herā¦
Edna: ā¦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 rememberā¦
Edna: ā¦ the car crash?
Edith: We rolledā¦
Edna: ā¦ 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: ā¦ to rescue us.
Edna: But they were so far away.
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Edith: So far…
Edna: ā¦ awayā¦.
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):
Whatās 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):
Itās so lonely here.
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Call and Response:
Edith: Thereās no one here.
Edna: Iām all alone.
Edith: Without youā¦
Edna: ā¦the spark of lifeā¦
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Edith: ā¦is goneā¦
Edna: ā¦ so far away.
– pause –
Together (Entirely Out of Sync):
Itās 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 didnāt 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.
Yeah yeah, the insects tend to get ALL the attention here on Nightmarish Nature. But honestly, this one takes the beefcake. It’s the New World Screwworm Fly, and it’s as terrifying as the name suggests. And they aren’t limited to the Americas, there is an Old World version as well, as they can be found pretty much anywhere tropical or seasonably suited.
Revolting Little Buggers
The Screwworm Fly is a parasitic fly larvae that burrows into its host to feed, named because it seems to screw deeper and deeper into the flesh over time. This process is called myiasis and do NOT look it up online, you WILL regret it. They blur those images out for very valid reasons, trust me (and not because of pornographic content). And these maggots will continue to burrow en masse, rather than staying put as a botfly larvae would.
Do Not Do an Image Search on Screwworm Myiasis, Like Seriously – You Will NEVER Unsee That
The female Screwworm fly lays her eggs on an open wound or orifice of her chosen host… And not just one egg or a couple of eggs, no – hundreds, even thousands of them. Let’s let that sink in a bit, shall we? Or screw in as it were. Although any warm-blooded animal is a prime target, cattle are a fly favorite, costing millions of head of cattle to this sick and disgusting horror annually. And if beef isn’t on the menu, Fido or even yourself might be.
The Great American Worm Wall
In fact, this particular feature here on Nightmarish Nature is so terrifying that the United States has made agreements with all of Central America, even including countries that do not generally share its interests, in order to create a “Great American Worm Wall” to prevent them from spreading back into the United States. I’m not going to go into all of the creepy and juicy details of this bizarre science fiction freak fact, you’ll just have to watch it here on Half As Interesting’s YouTube channel.
Essentially, the Worm Wall is a complicated byproduct of scientists studying radioactivity on the flies’ maturity as well as the flies’ sexual lives and using this information against them to nearly eradicate the species and banish it from much of its former range. So, Peter Parker, if you thought everyone was messing with your love life before, be glad you weren’t bitten by a radioactive Screwworm.
If youāve enjoyed this segment of Nightmarish Nature, feel free to check out some previous here:
Like I said before, I’m really getting into the spirit of the season this year. So reconsidering The Mourners yet again, and haunting the faith a bit, I decided to share a poem that I wrote thinking about All Hallows Eve as a preview of more things to come this month of October.
On Becoming Hallowed
Holy. Holy. Holy. Light the candle. Chant the hymn.
For now the veil between the living and the dead grows thin.
Fingers held to lips in silence; lies beneath their skin.
Family found, ancestral ghosts return to haunt their kin.
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Skeletons in closets, grotesque yearnings trapped within.
A bleached and bony face flashes a slightly knowing grin.
Itās not the shadows but the darkness that we fear therein.
Bless this Church whose saintly bodies live and dwell herein.
Unto Death, they claim to sanctify our souls from sin.
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Those familiar faces shame; this fight we cannot win.
Come what may, they betray. Pray/prey and heads will spin.
Forevermore and evermore to nevermore… Amen.
I thought this poem really captured All Hallows Eve, in some of the same sentiments as the movie High Spirits, which I loved almost as much as Beetlejuice back in the day.
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Jonny
January 25, 2022 at 12:23 pm
This is actively the worst thing ever, but I love it.
Jennifer Weigel
January 25, 2022 at 7:51 pm
Thank you I think lol. Partly inspired by some of the heartfelt and real admissions on I Used to Believe. https://www.iusedtobelieve.com/