Haunted MTL Original – Perfect Lighting – Karen Heslop
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Published
5 years agoon
By
Shane M.Perfect Lighting by Karen Heslop
Melody Chambers stood before the floor length mirror that had been installed in her master bathroom a few days ago. She was carefully inspecting her body for bites. She knew the house had been treated for pests but she wasn’t taking any chances. She and her husband had bought what realtors like to call a ‘fixer upper’ a few months ago and they were finally done with the renovations. The mirror was the last thing to be added before they had moved in. The light flickered above her head and she sighed.
That darn light is always flickering, she thought. During the renovations, Daniel had called in an electrician but he hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with the wiring. Yet whenever the bulb was replaced, the new one would burn out the instant it was put in. Eventually, they just gave in and settled for the original bulb that had come with the house.
“At least the lighting isn’t that bad,” she muttered.
Melody took one last look in the mirror before getting into the tub. Hopefully the hot bath would ease her anxiety and soak away a dreadful day of work.
She ran her hands down her thighs, massaging her aching muscles. As her palm moved down her right leg, she felt a small bump halfway between her upper thigh and knee. Curious, she raised her leg above the water and peered at the small red blemish. She flicked a fingernail lightly back and forth over it, trying to gauge its true size. Hmm, she thought, could be a mosquito bite. Submerging both the leg and her instinctive fear, she finished her bath and got dressed. Her husband was already in bed and appeared to be half asleep but she had to wake him.
“Daniel?”
“Hmm,” he answered groggily.
“Can you get some mosquito repellent tomorrow?”
“Uh huh.”
“Seriously D,” Melody insisted, “you know how much I hate having little critters around me.”
Daniel sighed, battling exhaustion in order to calm his wife.
“I’ll get it hun. Don’t worry about it.”
Melody bit her lip and nodded. She resisted the urge to make him promise. In her head, she could hear her mother’s snide voice telling her: “Forcing men to make promises make them feel pressured. It’s a childish thing to do. Find another way to do it or don’t do it all”. She sighed. She would just have to trust that he’d get it.
A few days later, reeking of mosquito repellent, Melody was inspecting the same spot on her leg under the bathroom’s constantly flickering light. The bump had continued to itch as she assumed it would. She had also assumed that it would get better but to her dismay it didn’t. What had been a small red spot was now an angry red blister. She could even see the beginning of a pale yellow centre. Melody called to her husband from her position on the side of the tub.
“D? I think the bite is infected. Do we have any antibiotic cream?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Daniel answered from the living room.
While listening to her husband open and shut drawers, Melody rubbed the pad of her thumb repeatedly over the blister as if the action could erase it from her body. Daniel had to touch her shoulder in order to get her attention.
“Found it. A little worse for wear but better than nothing I guess.”
Melody took the half empty, battered tube and asked, “What do you think? Does it look infected?”
Daniel squinted his eyes at his wife’s leg. Given her history, he tried to strike a balance between compassion and rationality.
“Well…I don’t really see much there,” he said with a shrug, “Just where you’ve been scratching at it.”
Melody rolled her eyes and massaged the cream into her leg. She wanted to really get it in there.
“Whatever. It’s my leg. I should know.”
“Sure,” Daniel murmured.
He knew better than to disagree with Melody when she was getting agitated about her bug issues. When she had gone to the Caribbean on a family vacation as a child, she had come back with quite a few itchy bites that her parents had attributed to mosquitoes. A week later, the bites had become swollen and showed signs of infection. When Melody’s parents had carried her to the paediatrician, the doctor had poked tentatively at one of the swollen bites. To her surprise and Melody’s horror, a worm popped out.
She hadn’t been bitten by mosquitoes; she had actually been infested with botfly larvae. Melody endured having 5 of the maggots removed from her body and her mind had never completely gotten over the trauma. Therapy had helped somewhat but Daniel had accepted that it would be an ongoing struggle. He saw no harm in humouring her now.
A week went by during which Daniel watched Melody scratch the general area without saying a word about it. He thought about bringing it up but decided against it. She would either get over it like she had before or tell him if it had gotten worse. He didn’t want to push her in either direction.
As if on cue, Melody called for him from the bathroom. He was starting to hate that room. Why did it have to have the brightest bulb? Melody seemed to always be in there. When he got to her, she was in her usual spot on the edge of the tub. His breath caught in his throat when he saw how pale she was. Her gaze was transfixed on her thigh.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
Slowly she turned to him, her mouth moving up and down without a sound.
“Are you okay?” he tried again while slowly venturing closer towards her.
“There’s something in my leg,” she whispered.
“What?”
Daniel closed the gap between himself and his wife quickly. Her hands were on either side of her leg as if she were afraid to touch the actual area. He peered closely at the spot Melody was always complaining about and frowned. All he could see were the ragged scratches made by her fingernails in various stages of healing. He supposed it was possible that those could be infected but…
“Sweetie…I’m not sure we’re seeing the same thing but we can go to the doctor in the morning alright?”
“In the morning? What about now?”
“Uhm…how about we put some more of the cream on it? That should keep things from getting worse during the night, right?”
She frowned uncertainly but nodded slowly after a few moments.
“Alright,” she replied, “but first thing in the morning we’re going to the doctor.”
“Sure hun,” Daniel said, a relieved sigh escaping his lips.
He watched her rub the cream on her thigh with so much pressure he worried she might be bruising herself without being aware of it. Still, he waited patiently for her to finish and led her to bed when she was done. He lay awake in bed until he was sure Melody had fallen asleep. Only then did he allow himself to drift off.
The sensation of insects crawling beneath her skin jolted Melody awake. Alarmed, she slunk out of the bed carefully so as to avoid waking Daniel. She entered the dark bathroom and pushed the door closed slowly. She ran her fingers tentatively along the wall in search of the light switch, silently praying there were no ants out and about. She found the switch and flicked it on.
She sat in her favourite spot and rolled up the right pant leg of her pajamas. The blister had become a sore the size of the base of a cup and she could see two distinct though jagged circles. The outer circle was light pink and shiny. The inner circle was red, warm to the touch and slightly raised towards a centre. At this centre was a bright yellow pus-filled hole.
The very same hole Melody was sure she had seen a maggot-like head pop out of earlier in the evening. The hole had scabbed over and that bothered Melody even more. There was something inside her. It could be burrowing through her body even as she sat there.
“I have to get it out,” she muttered quietly.
She opened the medicine cabinet and took out a pair of tweezers and small trimming scissors her husband used on his beard. Slowly, carefully she used the tweezers to lift the scab off. A viscous pink mixture of pus and blood oozed from the sore. Melody gritted her teeth and pressed the raised sides of the sore with the blades of the scissors causing even more pink liquid to slide unto her thigh.
Finally she had flattened the sore leaving no more room for the creature to hide. She used the tweezers to clear the flesh that might block its path, oblivious to the uneven tears she was rending in her leg. Melody bit her lip and while she waited, a small beige head peeked out of the widened hole, its pitch black antennae waving back and forth testing the air.
Melody yelped and lost her grip on her little scavenging tools. She slapped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from calling out to Daniel. He would only tell her she was giving in to her fear like she had several times before. He would tell her she needed to get some rest. But how could she rest? This…thing was living inside her. As if taking advantage of Melody’s indecision the creature ducked back into her thigh.
“No, no, no…” Melody whimpered.
She quickly retrieved the tweezers and scissors from the floor. She picked frantically at the hole with the tweezers but couldn’t find where the filthy creature had gone. Frustrated, she used the blade of the scissors to cut a line from the hole to her upper thigh. She dug some more with the tweezers. Nothing. Melody’s heart was thudding in her chest. Her breath was coming out in short, raspy gasps. She knew she needed to find the thing before she had a full blown panic attack. If that happened she would lose control of the situation and Daniel would have to get involved. Worse yet, she would still be infested.
Melody pulled her shirt up and stuffed her mouth with the thick cotton material. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Still, her harsh exhalations seemed to echo in the pristine bathroom. Determined, she opened her eyes and plunged the scissors into her thigh. Her screams were muffled by the plug of cotton as she continued to quickly cut crude lines into her flesh. The bright red blood blossoming from the gashes only registered on a subconscious level as she concentrated on her search.
Bits of skins and flesh were discarded as she tunneled into her thigh. She wiped tears from her eyes when her vision became blurry, smearing blood across her cheeks. Melody caught sight of a part of the beige body writhing in her thigh and pulled at it with the tweezers. As the tips of the tweezers closed around its wriggling head, the creature latched all its numerous legs into the muscles surrounding it.
Melody cried out from the pain of having needle thin spindles digging into her flesh. Despite the agony, she held on and pulled the creature out. She could now see that it was about the length of an unsharpened pencil with black legs and black antennae at both ends. It was beige with splotches of green all along its body. Melody brought the wriggling creature closer for inspection. She peered at the rhythmically clacking spincers and imagined that it was cursing her tenacity. A broad grin of triumph spread across her face.
“I got it,” she whispered.
“Daniel! I got it!” she yelled.
Daniel was dreaming. Angry swarms of mosquitoes were chasing him along the sea shore. He was trying to outrun them but the sand kept sucking his feet down. Melody was calling out to him from the cement walkway. She was being devoured by cockroaches. Bit by bit, pieces of her fell away as Daniel struggled to reach her. All the while, he wondered why she didn’t just move. She wasn’t being sucked into the sand like he was so why didn’t she just…move?
Melody’s shout dragged him back to reality. He sprung up in the bed, at first disoriented by the sudden change in scenery. He could see a thin line of light glowing under the closed bathroom door. Christ, he thought, not again.
“Melody?” he called through the door.
“I got it! Come look!” she replied.
Daniel rubbed his eyes and opened the door.
“Hun, it’s the middle of the…”
His mouth hung open, the words he planned to say accumulated at the back of his throat threatening to choke him. His wife had a delirious look on her face, her short dark hair plastered on a face slick with sweat. Her blood drenched hand was extended towards him, waving a pair of tweezers back and forth to get his attention. Daniel could only see the damage she had done to herself. Melody’s right pant leg was rolled up to mid-thigh and its lilac hue was drowning in maroon. Everything between that bloody line of clothing and her knee had been ravaged.
Bloody strips of flesh hung from Melody’s leg. Blood was running down the sides of her thigh unto the tiles. The floor and shower curtain both had sprinklings of darkening flesh and blood. Daniel stared at his maniacally laughing wife in horror.
“Hun, what did you…”
“Look!” she interrupted, “I’ve got it! Now do you believe me?”
Daniel tore his gaze away from his wife’s massacred leg and looked at what she was holding. She held the tweezers as if she had unearthed a valuable prize. Daniel wondered what she thought it was. All he could see was a lumpy strip of flesh with red and beige colouring stippled through it. He took a breath and forced himself to calm down. This was more serious than what had happened before but it wasn’t impossible to handle. At least he hoped it wasn’t. He tore a wad of tissue from the toilet paper roll and held it out to her.
“Good job hun. Put it in here and we can show it to the doctor when we get to the hospital. Let me just get something to cover your leg up and we can go.”
Melody’s face lit up. “We’re going now?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Daniel collected the strip of flesh, wrapping it up carefully under his wife’s watchful gaze. He kept the urge to cry, scream and run away under control with the breathing techniques Melody’s psychiatrist had taught him. He grabbed a clean sheet from the bedroom and returned to find Melody trying to get up from the side of the tub.
“No!” Daniel cried, concerned about the spastic twitch of muscles he could see through the exposed flesh. How far had she cut? he wondered. He wrapped the sheet quickly around her leg, barely avoiding the growing pool of blood under her foot then called an ambulance. He watched in trepidation as blood started to appear on the outside of the sheet in splotches. As he wrapped another sheet around the wound, the sounds of the ambulance pierced the quiet neighbourhood.
He helped Melody into the ambulance and held her hand as they connected her to a number of machines to monitor her vitals. The paramedic wrapped a thick material firmly around the mangles leg and kept an eye on the blipping lines on the monitors. Daniel watched the paramedic’s every move until Melody’s hand brushed his arm gently.
“Where’s the worm?” she asked.
Daniel showed her the wad of toilet paper in his hand. Melody smiled and slipped into unconsciousness. Above her head, the paramedic met his eyes but said nothing.
#
Melody’s eyes fluttered open. The glare of the overhead lights burnt into her irises and she lifted her hand to rub her eyes. The hand didn’t move. She tried the other one. Nothing happened. Confused, she tried to get up so she could see what was holding her hands. A thick band tightened against her chest and she could only move about an inch off the bed.
“Hello?” she called.
A nurse pushed her head through the doorway. She smiled at Melody and held up a finger. A few moments later she walked into the room holding a small tray.
“Good morning Mrs. Chambers. Time for some breakfast.”
“But my hands…”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” the nurse replied, patting Melody’s hand.
The nurse sat in the lone chair beside Melody’s bed and speared a piece of scrambled egg with the fork. She held it before Melody’s lips and waited.
“I don’t understand…” Melody said.
The nurse rested the fork in the plate with a sigh.
“Mrs. Chambers…you came in with a very serious self-inflicted injury. The doctors patched it up as best as they could. Your leg will be different but it will be fine. What’s important now is helping you get better so it doesn’t happen again.”
“Where’s Daniel?”
“Once you were alright, he went home to…clean things up a bit. He’ll be back soon.”
“And the worm…what was it?”
The nurse shook her head sympathetically.
“Honey, that was no worm. You tore out your own leg.”
“What? That’s not true! I saw it. I’m sure of it. I…”
The energy in Melody’s outburst waned as she struggled to remember what had happened. The memory seemed to change with each flicker of the light.
“I was so sure…” she whispered.
“It’s okay dear,” the nurse replied, looking at Melody sympathetically, “You weren’t yourself. The doctors here will help with that. In fact, you should be meeting with them in a few minutes.”
Melody looked around the sterile room and at her restraints.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re in the psych ward of the hospital dear. Now let’s get your strength up shall we?”
The nurse smiled again and placed the fork before Melody. This time Melody opened her mouth.
SIX MONTHS LATER
Daniel massaged his temples while standing in front of the medicine cabinet in the new bathroom of his brand new house. After Melody’s breakdown, he didn’t think twice about selling the house. Thankfully, they had done such a good job fixing it up he was able to actually make a profit from the sale. This time around he didn’t bother to look for a house they could ‘make their own’. They didn’t need unique. They didn’t need character. They needed a house that didn’t inspire Melody to mutilate herself. He took a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and twisted the cap off.
He closed the cabinet door and gave a start when a pale face with greasy ringlets of hair cascading around it appeared in the mirror. The bottle fell from his hand and pills clattered into the sink. Melody was doing much better now but she had gotten gaunt since the ordeal. Fixing her mind had done her body no favours and it pained him to remember what she really looked like now. Sometimes, the sight of her still shocked him. If she took pleasure in anything anymore, he would think she was scaring him on purpose.
“Everything okay Melody?”
She held her hand out for inspection.
“Do you see that?”
He looked at the outstretched arm.
“You mean the bite? Yeah.”
She nodded and whispered, “Good,” more to herself than him. Melody limped out of the bathroom while absent mindedly rubbing her arm. Daniel sighed and tried to recover the pills from the sink. It will get better, he thought, it has to.
Melody lowered her body carefully into the soft patio chair. The doctors had done their best work on her leg but the damage had been done. Her leg was now plagued with a weakness that made her limp and chronic pain that kept her awake at night. She ran her finger along the groves and ridges of the mangled flesh. It was a mess that still paled in comparison to what had happened to her brain. Even in her dreams, she played the game of ‘Real/Not Real’ without knowing if she was moving closer to sanity or further away.
A mosquito buzzed around her head and she willed herself to remain still. Encouraged, the insect flitted along Melody’s exposed thigh. It settled unto the edge of the indented thigh and got comfortable. As it bent forward to drink, Melody slapped it with an open palm. She lifted the palm, picked the tiny corpse from it and flicked it away. She ran her finger through the small blood spot and brought the finger to her nose. Inhaling the tangy odour, Melody smiled and whispered, “Real”.
#
Miles away in her new home, Jessie Munch was frowning at the puffy red nail bed of her index finger illuminated by flickering bathroom lights. She poked it and bit her lip.
“Brian! I think I have another nail infection.”
Brian Jenkins chuckled from the bedroom. Ever since a traumatic toenail infection a few years ago, where she had to have a section of the big toe on her left foor removed, Jessie compulsively checked her nails every night. At least once per month, she thought she saw an infection. She had yet to be right even once.
“You always think that hun. Come to bed. Remember you have that big meeting in the morning.”
Jessie ignored her boyfriend and continued to rub her thumb over the swelling. She popped an Augmentin tablet into her mouth and washed it down with tap water. With one last look at her nail, Jessie muttered,
“Whatever. It’s my body. I should know.”
END
Karen Heslop writes from Kingston, Jamaica. Her stories can be found in Apparition Lit Mag, 4StarStories and The Wierd and Whatnot among others.
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This prose poem considers sinking into self, how ongoing struggles with mental health and well-being have led me to take actions that reinforce the patterns therein, especially regarding depression and existential angst, succumbing to cycles that are familiar in their distress and unease. For these struggles are their own form of horror, and it can be difficult to break free of their constraints. I know I am not alone in this, and I have reflected upon some of these themes here before. My hope in sharing these experiences is that others may feel less isolated in their own similar struggles.
She withdrew further into herself, the deep, dark crevices of her psyche giving way to a dense thicket. She felt secure. In this protective barrier of thorns and stoicism, she hoped to heal from the heartache that gnawed at her being, to finally defeat the all-consuming sadness that controlled her will to live and consumed her joy. She didn’t realize that hope cannot reside in such a dark realm, that she built her walls so impenetrable that no glimmers of light could work their way into her heart to blossom and grow there. That by thusly retreating, she actually caged herself within and without, diving straight into the beast’s lair. And it was hungry for more.
Feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
Original Creations
Food Prep with Baba Yaga, Nail Polish Art Fig from Jennifer Weigel
Published
2 weeks agoon
February 9, 2025I must just want to keep breathing those fumes – call me Doctor Orin Scrivello DDS… Anyway, here’s another porcelain figurine repaint with nail polish accents. This time we’ll join Baba Yaga herself as she embarks on a food prep journey – I hear she’s making pie! This time I’m only going to post one figurine because I want to get the down low on all the dirty details. And just what sort of food prep does that entail? Let’s find out…
Yeah it’s a boring chore but necessary. Cause you can’t eat without food, and you can’t have food without food prep.
Are you up to the task? Because heads will roll. In fact, one’s trying to get away now.
A dull blade is nobody’s friend, so make sure to keep all your knives sharpened for the task at hand.
One down, a dozen or so more to go!
Feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
Original Creations
Familiar Faces – A Chilling Tale of Predatory Transformation by Tinamarie Cox
Published
2 weeks agoon
February 6, 2025By
Jim PhoenixFamiliar Faces
By Tinamarie Cox
For the past three months, Maggie had planted herself on the same bench in the northwestern quadrant of Central Park at six a.m. every morning. Placed beside her were always a brown paper bag and a paper coffee cup, both clean and empty. She did not require food and drink in the same manner as humans but needed to keep up appearances and maintain the illusion. Sitting here like this, Maggie appeared to be like any other New Yorker enjoying the cooler hours of the early summer mornings and a deli-bought breakfast.
As the joggers on the Great Hill Track passed by, Maggie studied their skin. She looked each perspiring body up and down carefully, determining collagen levels and the elasticity of their dermal layers. There was a wide range in age, but younger was preferred. She favored flesh in its prime and in good health. The better condition of the hide meant the tissues would last longer. More time for enjoyment and less time spent hunting.
Maggie, the name that had belonged to the skin she was currently in, had given her a long and pleasurable five years. But her stolen flesh had begun to pucker as of late, thinning and loosening, and starting to droop on its harsh frame. It was time for a change in coverings. Maggie’s delicate apricot coating was nearly spent.
New York City was the perfect place to acquire new skins. Becoming someone new and blending in was effortless in the twenty-first century. There were millions of hosts to choose from and all in different colors. The variety drew her, and the ease of attaining a human casing kept her lingering. A hundred years of stalking and acquisition in this city, and she hadn’t felt any exigency to leave it. One person missing out of millions was a drop of water in Earth’s ocean. She drew no suspicions.
Time had only made the process simpler for Maggie.
Naturally, her skills improved as she moved from body to body. She had made mistakes in the beginning. Been too violent with the first few when she should have been more clever. She hadn’t expected such a mess. Hadn’t known there was so much blood and viscera inside a human body.
But she had been so eager to try. So excited to keep going. To test her limits. Go beyond what she had once thought she was capable of.
Practice made perfect. Switching bodies became seamless.
And there were other factors, too, that allowed Maggie an inconspicuous lifestyle. Population growth was major, inevitable with the humans’ devotion to sexual pleasure. Humans seemed challenged when it came to controlling their desires, much less their reproductive abilities. She felt it was the greatest disadvantage of the species. To be so tightly bound to sex and rearing the inevitable offspring.
She couldn’t consider using a human during their infancy or adolescent years. Children were too helpless. Despite the soft suppleness of their skin, being commanded by another adult was unappealing. Maggie was fully grown and had left her nest ages ago.
The way society chose to isolate itself behind its technology also benefited Maggie. Whatever flashed on their handheld screens determined the next fad and the newest trend, which consumed their attention. It seemed humans could not be without their electronic devices, as if they were an extension of themselves. An enthusiastically consumed distraction from the realities of the drudgery of the human world.
Maggie had spent the last several weeks on her perch in Central Park keeping up to date on the latest social interests by watching TikTok videos on her cell phone. Many of the clips were centered around humorous topics, which she hated to admit she found entertaining. And some of the video creators poured their life stories and struggles into the camera for the whole world to see. Maggie liked these videos best. She adopted the histories and backgrounds of the TikTok users for the real-life conversations she participated in.
With the recorded stories committed to memory, she could stir up feelings of pity, compassion, or even lust in her listener. Their emotional responses made her feel more human. Continued the deception. Ultimately, it distracted her conversation partner from asking other, more troublesome questions. Like why the alcohol they were drinking wasn’t making her tipsy.
Maggie toggled between the app and observed the passing joggers. She stealthily snapped pictures of potential skin donors for later deliberation. She had noted their schedules and made her friendly face visible during their routines. She looked up, met their gaze, smiled, and angled her head cordially. Every few minutes, she reached into the paper bag standing upright by her lap and brought an empty fist to her mouth, pretending to eat breakfast and drink coffee.
Some mornings, she’d daydream about the first days in a fresh costume, how silky and soft the flesh was. She liked to run fingers along the new skin, feel how well it hugged the bones. The sensation made the human lungs feel heavy, the heart race, and the mouth water.
No part of her donor went to waste.
Once fitted into a new disguise and acclimated to its nervous system, the previous host served as a first meal. Consciousness didn’t return to the shell. The brain was ruined by her invading connectors and the gray matter disintegrated with the disentanglement. Like pulling a weed out of the ground after it had infiltrated and rooted deep into a garden bed.
The defunct flesh made an exponential shift into the decomposition process after being evacuated. Technically, the carcass had started decaying the moment it was put on. Be it delayed or negligible so long as the body’s systems remained minimally active.
The putrid smell that accompanied a rotting body drew attention. Evidence caused questions and investigation. And even this creature had to eat sometimes. Of all the mammals, the taste of human was second to none. Without a doubt, human surpassed in flavor compared to her littermates.
On other observation days, Maggie thought about the instances when young, hormone-driven bodies ensnared her in conversation with the single goal of engaging in mating rituals. She found these human practices amusing, not sharing the same desire or need for such companionship.
Coupled bodies pounding genital areas, sharing fluids, and flesh becoming hot and sticky from the exertion was overall, unappealing. However, Maggie learned the importance and the rules of these games during her adventures among the humans. Though, she did not gain the same level of satisfaction from sexual acts.
Her top priority was to remain innocuous. She paid no favor to a particular gender. Or lack thereof. She appreciated the modern sense of fluidity between sexes. The notions of male and female and fulfilling sexual needs had changed greatly in the last hundred years she had spent amidst people. She had learned that bodies fit together in multiple ways. And Maggie knew how to please any partner no matter the skin she wore.
She had gotten better at determining if a mate would become too attached and return to her with more serious intentions. Relationships complicated her lifestyle. Partners asked too many questions and wanted to be involved with everything. She could not explain to a human how slowly rotting, sagging flesh walked amongst the population. Being solitary and independent was required.
Maggie preferred to migrate across the boroughs only when necessary, like when she adopted a new disguise. Previous acquaintances noticed the change. Memories and personality were lost when she implanted herself. But after a few hours of investigating the old life, she knew who needed a goodbye to be satisfied. And which places not to haunt. These lessons had been learned the hard way at the beginning.
It wasn’t difficult to find a new apartment when she needed one. Some neighbors were nosier than others. Maggie didn’t have much on hand to pack and move. She kept enough belongings to make an apartment look lived in. And the keepsakes she was genuinely fond of remained in a storage unit.
She learned to save certain items after discovering antique shops. Some humans were willing to pay puzzling sums of money for old things that no longer served anything more than an aesthetic purpose. A lengthy existence inhabiting many lives had allowed her to accumulate a monetary cushion.
As the freshness of Maggie’s skin wore out, she felt like antiquity. Something shabby and spent, and only admired as what it used to be. The lingering memory of something gone and nearly forgotten. A word on the tip of your tongue. She didn’t like to feel as though she was fading.
Each morning, she studied the creases deepening on her hands and around her eyes. She pulled at the lines circling her throat. It took more effort to keep her mouth from frowning. She found her reflection off-putting. It hadn’t surprised Maggie why flirtations and pleasure seekers had decreased over the last several weeks. Her body looked disgusting.
Humans were shallow creatures. Wrinkling and dulling skin combined with thinning and lifeless hair was unattractive and deterred their mating drive. And it was this decrease in attention that brought Maggie a sense of urgency to find replacement tissue. She had grown to enjoy being noticed for her beauty and sexual appeal. But adamantly denied she possessed human vanity. She just wanted to feel good about herself. There wasn’t much else to her drive.
Beautiful skin made Maggie feel powerful.
Maggie was eyeing male flesh for this hunt. The last twenty years had been spent in female coverings. Before that, her costumes were alternated between the sexes. When IT first began acquiring human skins in New York City, it had sought males exclusively. Back in those early days, you had to be male to do what you wanted. No one questioned a man’s late hours or odd habits. A hundred years ago– when IT had still been something crawling and slithering and observing the human species in the shadows– it seemed a woman was more of a thing than a person. And IT had been tired of being a thing.
Before IT was Maggie, there was Ananda, and before her was Shyla. She only remembered Molly because of how short a time her skin had lasted, a mere year. She had judged Molly’s skin all wrong, or rather, it had deceived her. A century of lives and dozens of names had blended together in parts. What IT had originally been called escaped its memory. The point was to experience life, not remember the vehicle.
Christopher passed her bench for a fourth time that morning. Maggie gave her next potential covering a small smile. He had finally taken notice of her earlier in the week, stealing brief glances at her during each of his eight daily laps around the loop. He looked young enough for her predilection, and in satisfactory health.
She loved the way his tanned epidermis stretched over his pronounced cheekbones. How taut it was across his firm abdominal cavity. And how the flesh around his defined biceps glistened with perspiration in the morning sunlight. He was a fine human specimen. She was fairly certain Christopher was the one.
Her hearts synced into a quick rhythm with her sudden excitement. She fidgeted on the bench as she envisioned slipping into new skin. Shedding this expired hull and feeling the brief freedom from a body’s weight. Severing the aged links that bound her to a moribund marionette. She licked her lips as she thought about making a satisfying meal out of this faithful body she was currently in.
Maggie wanted to wear the Christopher costume as soon as possible. She imagined the strength in his well-maintained and robust body. What the ripples in his muscles must feel like when his feet pounded against the asphalt during his run. How easily she would be able to command adoration with his coy smile. The way lovers would worship the powerful way she’d use his hips.
Decision finalized, Maggie hid her phone away in the back pocket of her shorts. She put the unused coffee cup in the empty brown bag and crumpled them together for the trash can. The wait for Christopher to make his next lap was almost too long. She leaned forward on her bench, staring down the jogging path. Eyes only for him as others passed her by.
When Christopher returned to view, Maggie grinned and angled her head at him. She shifted on her perch, impatient for him to meet her gaze. When their eyes locked, Maggie felt her nerve endings pulse and the human heart lurch. This level of anticipation was better than sex. The barbs holding her inside Maggie tingled.
It was time to seize the moment.
She gave him a little wave with a shaky hand. Then, she patted the place on the bench beside her that was vacated by the fake breakfast.
Christopher slowed his pace, his interest engaged, and paused his morning jogging routine through Central Park to speak to a familiar face. He sat beside Maggie, his mouth open and catching his breath, and rested his arm along the top of the bench.
“Finished your breakfast fast today?” He stretched his long legs out in front of him and Maggie traced them with her eyes.
“I have a confession to make,” she began, flapping her eyelashes at him.
“Do tell.”
He leaned in closer and she could smell the salty trails of sweat dripping down his perfect skin and mixing with his pheromones. He was easily hooked. His scent made her mouth water. Made her buzz inside Maggie. He was a fine choice.
“I was too nervous to eat it this morning. I was hoping to meet you more formally today.” Maggie pressed her pink lips into a crooked smile and raised one of her shoulders aiming to convey shyness in her flirtation.
She formulated a new plan. The details arrived like lightning in her head. She’d do things a little differently this time. She’d play all her cards right and take him to bed first. Part of her ached to feel him inside this body before putting him on. She didn’t understand where the urge had come from, but she decided to obey it.
What was the point of living if not for a few indulgences here and there? Experiment once in a while? Evolve the methods? A hundred years of slipping from body to body needed to stay interesting.
She wasn’t becoming more human.
IT could never be human.
“Well,” he held out his hand to her, “I’m Christopher. It’s nice to meet you…?”
“You can call me Maggie,” she answered and accepted his handshake. His skin felt better than she imagined. A wave of delight coursed through her. A wide grin crept across her face.
Christopher was hers for the taking.
Predator and prey were united at last.