“She’s cutting my fucking throat!” he
shouted as I walked into the room.
The man was quite an interesting
sight. Tall, skinny, brown hair, blue eyes, strong jaw, hadn’t shaved in days,
and the perpetual jitterers of a man truly frightened to his core. The officer
who escorted me in told me his name was Travis McCurry and that he was just
another run of the mill wackjob adamantly admitting to a crime which probably
hasn’t taken place, at least not by Travis. However he was an interesting
wackjob, the officer told me, so apparently worthy of some psychoanalysis.
“Who fucked him up?” I asked the
officer as I had watched Travis through mirrored glass.
The officer, a fat, squat, bald
little man in his late thirties, just chuckled, “you’ll have to ask him, Doc,
‘cause we surely didn’t believe it.”
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“Wasn’t you guys?” I inquired.
“No man,” said the officer, “he came
in like that.”
“She’s cutting my fucking throat.”
“Who?”
“The woman I killed a year ago.”
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I sat down across from Travis
McCurry. He wasn’t handcuffed but he was beaten to a bloody pulp. Two black
eyes, nose still dripping blood, swelling on his cheekbones, split lips, top
and bottom, his neck looked as if someone had already cut it, deeply, but it
had already begun healing and was knitting together cleanly. Additionally, he
had two large patches of dried blood on his shirt, one on each pectoral. He sat
uncomfortably in a graywhite chair in a graywhite room with a graywhite table.
A pale florescent light flickered on the ceiling and glimmered just slightly on
the mirrored glass behind which the officers watched us.
“Killed?” I inquire.
He looked exapersated and utterly
exhausted. “You’re the third cop I’ve told this too! Is this a joke to you?”
“I’m not a police officer,
Travis,” I replied, paused, then quickly added, “is it ok to call you
Travis?”
He took a deep breath and leaned back
in the wooden chair, “its fine….but if you’re not a cop what are you?”
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I introduced myself as a clinical
psychiatrist that the police employ from time to time to sus out various
confusing situations and talk to people in certain predicaments where police
are inadequate.
Travis stared at me for a moment,
then stood up and, in dramatic fashion, took off his bloody shirt and threw it
on the floor.
His nipples, still bleeding, had been
cleanly sliced off leaving two dark-red oozing patches on his chest.
“Sus that out…they literally rotted
off me, before my very eyes, decayed and turned to dust over just a few
months….the doctors couldn’t explain it, and once it got this bad they tell me
there’s no way a sharp instrument hadn’t done this….they thought I did it to
myself! Tried to commit me! And look at my fucking throat, man! I’m days away,
hours, minutes maybe! ”
I took a deep breath in an effort to
retain my composure.
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“….do you wanna tell me what
happened?…”
“Already told them…”
“Yes, but they don’t believe
you…try me.”
“Look, that’s what happens next, after the
nipples, I swear, she’s gonna cut my throat!”
Hysterics were setting in. I instruct
him to take a deep breath and he does.
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He was calming down, tired now,
having exerted himself.
“Tell me what happened, Travis.”
He exhaled, sighing audibility to
demonstrate his displeasure, gathered his thoughts and began.
“The night I buried her I started to
feel it…gentle at first, just a light stinging on my ass cheeks, then, over
the next few weeks it got more and more intense, a slapping, like someone was
smacking my ass. Within a month or so the red ass graduated to
these…inexplicable…bumps and bruises…”
He pointed to large, severe and
obviously fresh scrapes and bruises all over his torso and face.
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“…these have been here for six
months.” he looked me sternly in the eye, “and they fucking hurt, worse every
day.”
“Then my nipples….a burning at first,
like a paper cut, then it started to feel like someone was slicing them off…I
went to the doctor, stitches, cauterizations, referral after referral…”
“No results?” I ask calmly, to break
the silence.
“No,” he replied after a moment. “It
just kept getting worse, my face has looked like this for months… months! It
looks like I got my ass kicked yesterday but I haven’t gotten my ass kicked in
years, not like this anyway…
“Then my neck started, a little sting
at first, then the same feeling I had in my nipples: a slow deliberate slicing
that gets worse every minute, every second of everyday, deeper and deeper into
my throat…and you don’t believe a word of it…”
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I leaned across the table slowly and
made eye contact.
“I believe that you believe it,
Travis.”
“But?” he returned eye contact in a
confrontational manner.
I choose my words carefully,
“…but…I think it would be quite difficult for a dead woman to do this to
you…”
He stayed silent, looking down at his
lap, eyes welling with tears.
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“What do you want us to do, Travis?
How can we protect you?”
He looked up, “I don’t know, I feel
like this will stop if I confess and…I don’t know, am punished, if justice is
served or something… maybe if I tell what I did to her it won’t happen to
me…I don’t know! It’s a year now and I’m out of options…”
Long gone now was the man yelling at
me just a few minutes ago. Now he had broken down, looking beaten and without
hope. At that moment nothing remained of his spirit…I pitied him, pitied him
more than I have pitied any man in a very long time.
I stood up and placed my hand
comfortingly on Travis’ shoulder. “Tell me her name.”
“Algea….Algea Reid, I still have her
school I.D, I tried to show them but…..why do you ask?”
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“Well,” I explained, “I’m going to
ask the police to search her name up, and if your story about killing her
checks out, and she’s missing or had been found dead then you’ll get to make
your confession, I’ll talk to the police, you have my word.”
He said nothing but I noticed a very
faint glimmer of hope in his bloodshot eyes.
I patted him on the shoulder once
more and exited.
“Run that name please.”
“Already on it,” one officer replied.
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I poured myself a steaming cup of
coffee, black with just a bit of sugar.
“What had he done to that girl?” I
wondered aloud.
I had recognized no guilt in his
eyes, only fear, only self-preservation. It was an intense fear, a bone
rattling fear, the fear of a man facing the abyss of death…but a fear not
based on guilt.
Only someone who feels guilty would self-mulatate in his
position, he doesn’t qualify, screams a voice in my head
“Got her!” I heard an officer shout
victoriously behind me, startling me.
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I sip my coffee and turn around to
hear.
“I guess Mr. Crazy’s story sorta
checks out,” he began to read from the printout, “Algea Reid…white, female
21, attending Huntington Nursing school, goes missing from her birthday party
on January 28th…hell!….exactly one year ago today!”
“Happy birthday, Algea!” another
officer rudley interjects. Everyone laughs.
“…goes to bar “the Nite Owl” with
friends celebrating her 21st birthday, leaves with older man in mid thirties,
described as tall, well dressed and handsome by her friends…who apparently
recognised little else through their vodka goggles…”
There was a brief pause, then the
officer looked up from the printout with a perplexed expression, “I don’t know,
Sergeant Baxter, should I get a statement from him?”
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“A bit late for that,” I say cutting
off Sergeant Baxter’s reply as I look through the mirrored glass.
The officers crowd around me to see
the brutal site.
Travis McCurry’s throat had been cut, deeply, and he had bled to death, likely in a matter of minutes, on a cold concrete floor, bruised and battered, in a pool of his own blood…alone in the room…
This author has no provided a photo.
Hello! My name is Tyler R. Martin. I’m a 22 year old U.S Army veteran of the Iraq conflict and am now a full time writer/poet. I run a poetry blog called Bourbon, Cigarettes and Syllables at bourboncigarettesandsyllables.com. Please enjoy my submissions and thank you in advance for taking the time to read my work!
This is the kickoff to a new series exploring nature that is kind of horrifying, at least in ways. Our first subject is Vampires Among Us. There are lots of animals named for vampires, sometimes due to folklore and sometimes for their appearance (like the Vampire Squid), but most of these animals don’t have blood sucking tendencies.
Vampire BatVampire Finch
Bats & Birds
There are legit vampire leaf-nosed bats in Central and South America that drink blood. They feed on mammals and are often shown to feed on livestock. They’d be kinda cute if they weren’t so creepy. There are also vampiric birds: some finches in the Galapagos have developed the taste for blood of other birds, mainly seabirds that flock to the islands to raise their young.
Vampire Bats
Leeches & Lampreys & More
And then you get into leeches and lampreys and other denizens of the water that are known to attach themselves to larger creatures and drink their blood. Leeches were even believed to have medicinal value (and still are in certain circumstances). And there are also numerous plants that are known to be parasitic and feed on other plants, wrapping their roots or vines around others to steal nutrients.
Lamprey Teeth
Spiders
Now I’m going to drift off into the realm where this becomes truly horrific. Spiders. Now, spiders aren’t vampires per se, seeing as how they actually kill their prey – they don’t just feed off of it while it remains living and wanders about its business. But because of their structure, they cannot eat solid foods, so they have to inject their prey with enzymes to liquefy it so they can slurp it out like a protein shake. That’s sort of vampirism on steroids if you ask me, just the kind that no one is coming back from.
Spider Eating
Bloodsucking Bugs
But let’s get back on topic. Now let’s consider mites and ticks and fleas and mosquitoes and the like. Some drink blood for their survival; others do so as part of their reproductive cycle (like mosquitoes which otherwise eat fruit and nectar but need the extra protein from blood to grow their eggs).
Ticks need to feed on blood once at every stage of their life cycle and can pick up diseases along the way (like Lyme Disease) but don’t always do so. Different ticks are more likely to come in contact with different things and often humans are not their preferred meal but they are opportunistic and will feed on whatever is available when necessary. Symptoms of illness from tick bites may take years to develop and can have really weird side effects (like the allergy associated with Lone Star Ticks which makes a person unable to consume mammalian flesh).
Spider
This story came to me in a sort of roundabout way from a rather unusual source. So I thought I’d share it with you, dear readership, and see if you can make heads or tails of it.
– Jennifer Weigel
Spanish Moss on Live Oak limbs, marker drawing by Jennifer Weigel
Dread Pirate Rum Tum Tugger could tell this was the right spot.
The site, beneath the sweeping limbs of the Live Oak, Spanish Moss swaying gently in the breeze, was a perfect match to the crude map he had bought off that soothsayer Deuteronomy.
The earth moved easily, as if it had been excavated previously. He dug in with greater fervor with each swipe. The sandy soil gave way to reveal something hard. He scooped and smoothed the remaining detritus from the surface as he uncovered a box.
The carton was simple.
No markings; no ornamentation; no writing. Just a plain cardboard crate, brittle from having been buried for so long but still sturdy. He hoisted it from its burrow.
“Ha HO!” he shouted to the passing breeze, rousing a small cloud of birds that erupted from a nearby thicket. They captured his attention for a moment, but he quickly refocused and returned to his task.
The box was locked but no difference.
Any self-respecting ruffian like himself could pick a lock in seconds. And he did so with panache, as was his way. He pried the lid open and licked his lips.
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Inside was the legendary Kernel of Eternal Life, a small sparrow’s heart, still beating.
Promotional Poster for Dread Pirate Queen Miss Kitty performance art by Jennifer Weigel
Artwork description: Myself as Dread Pirate Queen Miss Kitty wearing black bell sleeve shirt and black vinyl skirt with strapping leather belt over leopard print shirt and tights, with strapping leather boots, pirate head wrap and leopard cat ears.
Image text reads: Purr! Avast ye mateys, Dread Pirate Queen Miss Kitty invites ye to check out her booty stash and dig ye up a dungbie prize. Seek ye some buried treasure! Just grab ye a plastic litter scoop and dig… dig… dig… to ye heart’s content.
I created this image for a promotional poster for a performance piece in a charity art show in which I, as Dread Pirate Queen Miss Kitty, hawked a carnival sideshow style sidewalk installation. For a mere $5 donation to the animal shelter the show supported, gallery goers could dig around in a kiddie pool full of litter to find a prize: a cheap plastic trinket from the dollar store. I had some takers, including one kid who seemed to really enjoy the digging and whose parents were all in, saying “You know, you can totally do that at home too.”
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
Happy Mother’s Day to the Queen of Everything… nothing gets by you.
Happy Mother’s Day Queen of Everything card
Artwork description: A Happy Mother’s Day card featuring a picture of a Nefertiti doll with swooping hair, glitter makeup, and elaborate gold and blue headdress and evening gown.
Image text reads: Happy Mother’s Day! You are the Queen of Everything and you shimmer brighter than the twinkliest star in the sky. Stay sparkly and shine on in your magnificent glitter bombasticness. You ARE truly everything everywhere all at once and you’ve seen and heard it all. Eyes in the back of your head and superpowered hearing mean we can’t get away with much no matter how hard we try. So Queen on and rule over home in sparkly sentinel.
Queenly scary early morning makeup mishap
And may this be a testament to why us kids shalt never get you out of bed too early or run amok while you are getting ready to start your day… Because being the Queen of Everything takes planning and preparation…
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