It didn’t seem that late
on Halloween eve—the frothy, mossy stink of recently-scooped pumpkin still
permeated the air—but only the goth kids remained outside, bleeding themselves
silly in the cemetery. I’d been hoping that a few pretend-witches might clutter
my un-welcome mat. Their warts a’bubble,
moles stuck with hair, I didn’t know if they were paying homage or
mocking; either way, I planned to stick photocopies of my best Hex Stew recipe
in their buckets (along with the prerequisite chocolate bat bar, of course).
But instead, at the very stroke of midnight, a skeleton dude knocked on my door.
He was tall, lithe, a sight for lonesome eyes. And since I still had a
bucketful of black licorice left, I opened the door. Wide.
“Trick or treat.” His voice
sounded like it came from somewhere deeper than the dirt.
“Great costume,” I said,
dizzying; the space between his bones seemed to go on forever.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Can
I come in?” It had been months since I’d had a real visitor, years since anyone
had crossed my threshold. And since ground-up boy-bones are an integral
ingredient in most love-spell-banishing brews, I ushered him in. He was all
black and bone; a pure, unadulterated nothingness. I forgot myself and gawked.
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“You’re the prettiest witch
I’ve seen all night,” he said, reaching out and touching my cheek. “People
always talk about how ugly you are, but they’re wrong.”
“People are idiots,” I
whispered. Pulled into the galaxies of his eye sockets, hooked by the emptiness
of his hips, I moved closer.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked,
reading my mind.
It had been years since I’d been kissed, decades
since a little slap-&-tickle, so I closed my eyes and leaned forward. I’m tempting fate, I thought. Nothing good’s ever come
from my kind kissing his kind… But I dove in anyway.
His lips were webbed with sugar and
he tasted better than anything I’d ever licked. I
generally find it tacky to indulge in foodstuffs that fairytale-witches use to
lure innocent kiddies; besides, things like frog’s breath and will-o’-the-wisp
blood keep me clear-headed and adept at the intricacies of the darkest arts.
But as I pushed my tongue into his mouth, I found little nubs of gummy stuck
between his molars. Reaching down his throat, I discovered Fun Dip still
fizzing his epiglottis. Suddenly, more pig than witch, drooling for his
sweetmeats, I hocus-pocused myself into a wee thing and slipped deep inside of
him.
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Dissolving candy hearts peppered his
esophagus while sour worms conglomerated in his tum.
A hunk of cotton-spun sugar was wedged in his intestines—still-stiffish, hot pink,
and out-of-this-world. I ate him up. I couldn’t help myself. I was risking it
all, but I kept on swallowing.
Until, uh-oh!I caved into a candy-coma
on his prickly pelvic floor.
“You alright?” he
thundered.
“Ughghllgh” I guttered.
xxx
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I’m not sure how long I
slept, but I awoke with an achey start. “Hey,” I squeaked, “I’m kinda stuck in
here. Mind helping me out?” I’d only meant our interaction to be a quick romp—an
hour at most—but I’d gone and slept inside the guy. Stupid witch.
“Sid Da Kid’s gonna flip
when he hears about this,” he said, chuckling. “He bet me fifty that I couldn’t
even get a kiss. Wonder how much he’ll cough up now.”
Wait, what? I was a dare?
A measly fifty bucks? “If you don’t let me out
this minute, you will regret it forever,” I threatened, feeling my temper
quickly rise.
“Oooh, a firecracker, huh?
Me likey.” He laughed. “You got yourself in there, why can’t you get yourself
out?”
I didn’t want to admit that his
sugars had sapped my powers. That by acting the part of a spoiled, mortal girl,
I’d risked everything. “I will fucking destroy you and everything you love,” I
promised.
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“I’ll help you out if you
just admit how much you liked it.”
“I’d rather eat a razor
blade sandwich,” I hissed.
“I bet it’s been years
since you’ve been properly boned. You should be thanking me.”
Properly boned? Thanking him? Fury filled me up fast.
Expanding, ballooning, in only moments I was back to my normal size; his
easy-peasy weak sternum strained against the force of my flesh.
Almost instantly, there was a sharp crack and I hit the floor like
a seed. Sticky and sick, I threw up in my hair. It was me or him…him or
me, I reminded myself. But slumped against my baseboard, he didn’t
look so tough. A walnut shell, a spent cicada skin, a mortal boy that messed
with the wrong witch.
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“What’s Sid Da stupid Kid
gonna say about this? I should be the one getting paid,” I spit, summoning my
energy for one last abracadabra.
xxx
Bone Boy’s ashes still sit
on my shelf, tucked up next to a bottle of nightshade. Someday soon I’ll
sprinkle him into a brew and offer a cup to my black-and-blue-eyed neighbor. Or
her sister with the pantyhose runs and lipstick on her teeth. Maybe even that
convenience store clerk, the one who never lifts her eyes; the punk girl at the
bus stop with brass knuckles tattooed over the deep scar on her wrist.
Because their stories are my story
are their stories are my story—held firm in hardened
hearts, silent against a world full of witch-shaming flames, mother-in-law’s tongues, those lovers of racks
and screws. We may keep quiet, but we stay vigilant, ever-summoning the powers
of Hecate as we build our graham-cracker fortresses, the mortar a mash of our own spit
and knucklebone.
The End.
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This author has not provided a picture.
Tiffany Promise was awarded an MFA in creative writing from CalArts in 2010, and an MA in psychology from California Institute of Integral Studies in 2013. Her stories have appeared in Black Clock, Gingerbread House, Blanket Sea, High Shelf, and the Salt River Review. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize twice, in 2015 and 2019. Having attended Tin House and Sirenland, she’s had the privilege of working with both Eileen Myles and Anthony Doerr on various projects. She spent 2017 polishing her first novel with Francesca Lia Block in Los Angeles, but recently relocated to Victoria, B.C. As a mother, she is particularly interested in exploring mother-child dynamics and the feminization of madness.
So I happened upon this very cheesecake-heavy premiere issue of Extremes of Violet, complete with pinups by some of the comic book greats of the time, and decided to make some Peeping Toms collage art by incorporating the voluptuous vixen into various crystal pieces to create a sort of fishbowl effect centered largely on her bosom (which is unavoidable).
Each of the Peeping Toms is shown from three angles because of how much the pieces shift as the light plays off the crystal. I started with these star forms.
The second bowl was even a bit iridescent, and violet at that!
Next I did a series of really perky busty bowls, which really get the feeling across that you are looking through the tiny peephole in a door as well as exemplifying the content even more. Note: these are shown in two rows with side details as well, so there are a lot of pics here…
I experimented a little and tried a couple of other scenes, like the portrait, as well. She’s staring back at the Peeping Toms…
I also tried this more square bowl form.
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And finally, I found this little heart, which is my personal favorite of the group.
These works are a continuation of my Creepy Comics collage series, shown on Haunted MTL here.
So I probably should have taken a before picture, but I found a faux wood stained plaster Jesus statue and turned it into Zombie Christ. Because it’s the second second coming. Or something. It’s kind of an offshoot of my nail polish paintings reappropriating thrift store art…
Anyway without further ado, I present…
Zombie Christ remake statue by Jennifer Weigel
I was a little concerned that I made him too green at first, but I’m happy with the finished result. This statue just looked so anguished. It’s eyes had been closed but I like them better open and even painted them with blacklight reactive nail polish so they will stand out even more and be interactive in other ways to add creepy factor.
Another view of sculpture
And taking it from the top…
Sadly I don’t have a blacklight anymore or I’d share a picture that way too. Oh well. I’ll leave you with a fun detail shot instead.
Zombie Christ detail with eyes
Next time I may make him more gray than green though. We shall see…
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
So it’s been awhile since we’ve looked at some of the things I have gathered, so I thought I’d bring back my art collection for another round… Here are the first and second highlights in case you missed earlier explorations.
From left to right: M Pena Windstone Editions bat-winged flap cat, bone mask by Terry and Susan Wright, wood cat in skull by labcreature, real hair art by myself, pencil drawing of Barbarois Elder for Vampire Hunter D anime cel
From left to right: Barbarois Elder for Vampire Hunter D anime cel, Turn Me Royal portrait of my father and stepmother as Frankenstein’s monster and his bride, painted horse skull
Left to right: Overgrowth by Ellie Bradley, heart by TenderFlesh, praying devil girl by Torman’s Treasures
And a vintage plastic 2-foot Jack O Lantern I got at a yard sale and have kept on display on his very own stool in the living room since. So happy.
Anyway, there are some more highlights from my art collection, as it is always growing and evolving. I have lucked into several of these pieces at antique and thrift stores or acquired them from the artists or more. And yes, I still have Da Ting the taxidermy shih-tzu from the first of these posts.
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
John Combo
January 26, 2020 at 11:14 pm
This was a great story by Tiffany Promise. The imagery was amazing.