Haunted MTL Original – Perfect Lighting – Karen Heslop
More Videos
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.
You may like
Original Creations
Alice – A Haunting Tale of Isolation and Betrayal by Baylee Marion
Published
2 days agoon
January 23, 2025By
Jim PhoenixAlice
By Baylee Marion
Empty, breathless, deafening isolation. I was trapped in a single room for as long as I can remember. I was so young but still old enough to know that I shouldn’t have been locked in the attic. I had a mattress on the floor, a toilet, a bathtub, and raggedy stuffed animals that were supposed to provide a sense of comfort.
My days were spent pacing, singing songs I made up to myself, and scratching into the walls. At first, I carved images of myself playing with other children. To imagine how they looked was a challenge, but I was blessed with my own reflection in the glasses of water passed through the slot.
For what purpose my keeper held me was impossible to tell. He spoke to me sometimes, through the small slot only when I was asleep, or so he thought. He would read me stories, tell me about Alice and her tales in Wonderland, and though I didn’t know who she was, I began to believe she was my friend too.
When children grow older, they’re supposed to grow wiser. They are supposed to distinguish what’s real and what isn’t. Eventually, their imagination dulls, and they fall into a rhythm of routine, of work and dining and bonding with their loved ones. At least I know that now, but I hadn’t when I was still alive.
As time passed, I held dearly onto the idea of Alice and eventually, she became real. I wish I could tell you Alice was my friend. I truly believed she was. She began to visit me first at night, maybe formulated by the tales of the strange man. She would stand at the edge of my bed, whispering terrible things.
Eventually, she grew so real she could touch me. Perhaps I manifested her into my reality, or perhaps I was far more ill than I realized. Alice joined me in my songs; she was naturally talented. She could match any song without explaining the words, and her voice would pair a perfect harmony with mine. She would brush my hair, strands falling out in clumps. Apparently, I looked prettier without hair. So Alice brushed and brushed. Eventually, I could see my scalp in my glasses of water.
When I ran out of hair, she told me the dark spots in my skin were the reason I was locked up. She said that if I scraped them out of my skin, then I would be set free. You must understand, as my only friend, I believed every word she said. Friends always told the truth, even if it hurt them, right? So I did as she suggested because I wanted nothing more than to be free.
And to my amazement, she was right! Though my skin stung, my heart heaved with hope that someday I could escape the four walls that composed my world. When the drops of red fell, for the first time in my waking memory, the door opened.
The strange man was no longer faceless. He stood with a big bushy beard and thick eyebrows. His nose was as unremarkable as his hidden mouth. His belly protruded as if he had eaten enough for us both. He reprimanded me for listening to Alice, he urged me that Alice was not real, but she urged me she very much was.
My wounds healed, and Alice explained it wasn’t enough to be set free. I asked what she meant. She told me I wasn’t trapped in the attic at all. No, I was trapped in my body. The hair, the skin, the blood. It was all a cage that kept me from her and from freedom. If I could escape my skin, I would enter the real world, her world, where we could play forever.
I asked her how I could escape my skin when it was all I had ever known. How could I be alive without my body? She told me there were plenty of ways to escape myself. I could bite my tongue in half. I could pry up a sharp piece of floorboard and sink it into my beating heart.
I began to sob because I knew I would never be strong enough to do any of those things. I couldn’t simply strip the suit of skin off and become a ghost like her. The suffering of my misery was a familiar beast, but the thought of biting off my tongue seemed impossible.
But Alice assured me all was well. She said, “I will do it for you.”
I dried my eyes and sniffled. “But how?”
She giggled and replied, “I will switch places with you.”
My mouth hung open in shock. What a good friend she was to suffer the pain I couldn’t. I did not want to face her. The shame that I was sentencing her to the worst fate one could was too much to bear. I was supposed to be her friend. But my suffering was greater than my selflessness.
“Would you?”
She nodded. Lifting my chin under her fingertip, I met her gaze. She stuck out her pinky and gestured to me. I wrapped my pinky around hers, and instantly we switched places. I became a ghost and she became the shell that was me. My eyes could not believe what proceeded. Her hair had begun to grow, strands shining and beautiful, where moments ago I had none. Her skin had healed, no scars remained from the many nights my nails dug into them. In a flash, I became envious of the person she was, the version of me I should have been.
That night when she went to bed, the stranger came to the door to whisper stories. Alice snuck over to the small slot and began to whisper back in a language I have never heard before. The stranger, in a trance, opened the door and set Alice free. She waved goodbye to me as she left, the door wide open for her. I tried to follow her, but the door closed once more. I couldn’t escape. I was left in the attic, a ghost of my old self. I became Alice.
The End
Editorial
Fireside Chat 2025: Apparently I Don’t Exist
Published
3 days agoon
January 22, 2025By
J.M. BrannykGood news to my nonbinary pals – we no longer exist!
“But Brannyk,” you may be thinking, “what am I supposed to do now that I am no longer a real being? How shall I spend my days?”
Unfortunately, the government has not released a handbook for this occasion, so I thought we could brainstorm together.
BECOME A GHOST
There are some benefits to being a ghost, for sure.
No rent or insurance payment. No corporate job, no cleaning cat litter, no AT&T trying to sell you another line after repeatedly telling them that you just want to make sure that your autopayment is on, but they’re all like, ‘Why would you pass up such a bargain on a second line? Are you an idiot? Why wouldn’t you need another phone line?‘ and so you have to tell them, “Because I’M DIVORCED, ASSHOLE, THANKS FOR REMINDING ME OF THAT!”
Ahem. I digress.
Yeah, you may not be able to venture out, much like Adam and Barbara in Beetlejuice. You may need to put up with someone else crashing your place and moving around all of your shit. Or Ryan Reynolds trying to sell you Mint Mobile. Or some toxic couple taking your creepy doll that you spent years on trying to possess.
Or, my absolute biggest pet peeve, when you’re practicing for the ghost speed chair-stacking championship and the normies just don’t appreciate your cool skills.
But the advantages are that you get to stay home, watch tv, stack your chairs and hope whoever buys your house/visits your creepy woods/gentrifies your neighborhood is a cool person, too.
(2 / 5)It’s a good choice, but has a lot of drawbacks.
BECOME A CREATURE
Look, if you’re not going to exist, go big or go home, I’d say.
Monsters are cool. They play by their own rules. Sometimes they cause havoc. Sometimes they come around and help people. Sometimes they work alone. And other times, they have a lot of friends. Sometimes they just need some affirmation. And sometimes they’re…in high school, apparently?
The cool thing is that they come in all shapes and sizes.
Monsters are generally misunderstood. Some have their fans. Others are hated.
So basically, just like people, except with more tentacles.
The only downsides are that you might be too big or too “ick” for some people (these can also be pluses), you may have a taste for human flesh (no judgement), or the biggest issue – there are too many choices.
You could get stuck trying to figure out what kind of monster you are. If you’re not into labels, it’s an absolute nightmare. Or if you’re like me, it’ll be like standing in Subway for 15 minutes trying to figure out what toppings and dressings you want while the “sandwich artist” is openly judging you.
(4 / 5)I like the customization, but it can be a bit too overwhelming.
BECOME A CRYPTID
Hear me out. I know it seems a lot like the monster category, but it’s not quite.
Cryptids are weird and mysterious. They keep to themselves. They have people who are fascinated by them and post on Reddit about them. Some have people making documentaries about them.
They’re like monsters’ quieter cousin who reads books in the corner at family gatherings. They collect shiny things they find by the side of the road. Sometimes they’ll steal a peanut butter sandwich or two.
Ever so often, they might scare a human just by existing or by politely asking for their stuff back.
Each one kinda has their own goals and priorities. Their own hangouts and interests. But unlike monsters, they’re not looking to rock any boats-
Never mind, I stand corrected.
(5 / 5)I like the freedoms of being a cryptid and also dig the cottage-core vibe I get from them.
CONCLUSION: LET’S BE REAL FOR A SECOND…
I know it’s hard right now. It’s going to be hard. You may not exist to some assholes, but you are real. You have real feelings and thoughts and dreams. You have a real future. You have real decisions. Real actions that affect this world.
You have the real ability to wake up tomorrow and choose to exist. And for whatever reason you choose. Use it. Ghosts and monsters and cryptids are powerful, just like you are, even when you don’t feel like it. They have a place in our human world, just like you do. You make this world interesting and important.
You are part of this world, you are real, and you are not alone.
The horror community is one of acceptance, diversity, creativity and passion. In these times, it needs to be. We need to rely on each other. We need to cultivate and protect each other, as much as we need to protect ourselves.
And it looks like I’ll be coming out of my own cryptid hovel I’ve spent the past few years in to remind you that. My job isn’t done. Not by a longshot. And neither is yours.
You exist to me. Today, tomorrow, and forever.
Be safe out there, friends.
So, this is a convoluted post, not going to lie. Because it’s Thriller Nite. And we have to kick it off with a link to Michael Jackson in homage, because he’s the bomb and Vincent Price is the master… (If the following video doesn’t load properly, you can get there from this link.)
The movie monsters always approach so slowly.
Their stiff joints arcing in jerky, erratic movements
While the camera pans to a wide-eyed scream.
It takes forever for them to catch their victims.
Their stiff joints arcing in jerky, erratic movements
As they awkwardly shamble towards their quarry –
It takes forever for them to catch their victims.
And yet no one ever seems to get away.
As they awkwardly shamble towards their quarry –
Scenes shift, plot thickens, minutes tick by endlessly…
And yet no one ever seems to get away.
Seriously, how long does it take to make a break for it?
Scenes shift, plot thickens, minutes tick by endlessly…
While the camera pans to a wide-eyed scream.
Seriously, how long does it take to make a break for it?
The movie monsters always approach so slowly.
So my father used to enjoy telling the story of Thriller Nite and how he’d scare his little sister, my aunt. One time they were watching the old Universal Studios Monsters version of The Mummy, and he pursued her at a snail’s pace down the hallway in Boris Karloff fashion. Both of them had drastically different versions of this tale, but essentially it was a true Thriller Nite moment. And the inspiration for this poem.
For more fun music video mayhem, check out She Wolf here on Haunted MTL. And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.