HauntedMTL Original – Blessed – Eddie House
Blessed by Eddie House
Fairy lights glittered from where they were half hidden in the foliage, creating a warm glow in the dusk. The honeysuckle scent of the air floated through on a cooling breeze, playing with tendrils of hair and lifting the lace tablecloths at the edges. People swarmed around the edges of the garden, mosquito buzzing with light-hearted conversation. Everybody was dressed in elegance; tuxedos with pocket squares and fine silks of dresses, like butterfly wings wrapped around bodies. Sweets lingered on tongues, coating breath, and red liquid flowed freely from crystal fountains. An orchestra played soft music, the lilting notes vibrating over the party, creating a relaxing ambiance as background noise for the partygoers.
A woman stepped forward, her skirts circling and settling. Pulling her shawl closer around narrow shoulders, she adjusted the microphone set centred in the middle of the festivities and leaned into it. At this motion, a young girl’s eyes widened and the sharp smell of fear mingled with the flowery atmosphere. She noticed herself sweating through the thin fabric of her white dress and adjusted a hand to pick at the embroidered roses sewn onto the skirt. The tulle underneath crackled uncomfortably against her bare legs as she shifted from foot to foot.
At the microphone, the woman cleared her throat. With this sound, the girl flinched, her heart pounding.
Her terror was palpable; several of the guests cast blank faces towards her in interest as tensions increased.
“On this day, we are blessed.”
The woman’s strong voice carried over the sounds of the music playing and the party quietened, allowing her to be heard.
“On this day, we are blessed.” The crowd echoed in unison, causing the girl to shiver.
It was about to begin.
—
Earlier that day, the girl lay curled on a stone floor, limbs stiff and unused. A rat scurried past, inches away from her face but she did not move. A clanging noise rang out through the cell as someone turned a key and the metal gate fencing her into the corner was removed.
“It is time.”
At this, the girl finally lifted her head. Her eyes, previously cold and resigned, now filled with panic.
Lifting her by the shackles chained to her wrists, the guard hefted her to her feet, half dragging her on numb legs.
Emerging from the dark room, the girl screwed her face up in response to the new colours and light. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the intricate wall carvings, lit up by chandeliers embedded into ceilings so high they made her head spin. Whilst they led her through the hallway, dread settled in- an uncomfortable nausea coupled with the lack of food which caused her to sway on the spot. The guard noticed and tugged harshly at the restraints.
As the pair entered another spectacular room, the guard unlocked the cuffs, allowing the girl a modicum of freedom. It was not well received. With her now unrestricted hands, the girl moved to attack but her chill stiffened arms were not quick enough for the guard, who responded by slapping her face without emotion.
“You will behave.”
Resigned to her fate, the girl sat on the pulled-out stool in the centre of the room and awaited what would become of her. Almost instantly, several women appeared from the doorway and settled themselves around the girl. She let her façade drop and a low keening noise emitted from her throat as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. One woman tilted her face towards her, using a delicate hand to gently, carefully wipe the tears away with a tissue.
“Don’t cry pet. It will all be over soon.”
Her voice caused ice to drip down the girl’s spine, leeching any warmth the room provided.
They held a glass of water out to her which she took, composing herself. After sipping it, she lifted her chin to stare defiantly at the wall ahead, focusing on the beautiful artwork there. The women set to work, skilfully applying makeup to hide the damage that two weeks in the jail cell had caused.
As one of them painted rose coloured eyeshadow onto her eyelids, she broke her silence.
“What will become of me?”
To her credit, her voice did not falter despite the fear she felt.
The women continued their work without hesitation. Only one responded at all, biting her lip but not ceasing in applying strands of glitter to the flower crown she was weaving with nimble fingers.
Another of the servants crossed the carpeted floor to a huge wardrobe in the corner, removing from it a dress of white silk. It was undoubtably stunning- off the shoulders with layers of pale pink peeking through the white making up the skirt and covered with sparkling hand embroidered flowers- but the knowledge of what it symbolised filled the young girl with dread. As they laced her into the bodice, she snaked a hand towards a pair of sharp nail scissors left unattended. The tiny scraping noise they made as they lifted off the table top seemed to resonate through the room. The woman who had bitten her lip when questioned quietly lay a hand over the girls and removed the weapon deftly.
“It is not worth it.” She whispered. “It would never work.”
The other women pretended not to notice and busied themselves putting the final touches into the girl’s appearance. The last step completed as the flower crown was placed upon her dark hair.
The party was already in full swing when she exited through the glass patio doors. Outwardly, she kept her head held high. Inwardly, her mind screamed for help.
The festivities continued throughout the night. She went ignored, attracting little attention.
Only one person paid her any notice. A woman, elegant in her black shawl, approached. A long-nailed hand cupped the girl’s chin, tilting her face this way and that.
The girl responded only with a dead stare.
“Now, now. You know I can’t see that evil look.”
The woman tipped her head to the side. The fairy lights caught her, illuminating the hollowed cheeks, and lack of any features upon her pale face. Aside from that mouth.
Black lips framed a wide hole of saliva dripping fangs. A split tongue emerged and disappeared back into the black hole in her face almost instantly as she licked her lips in eagerness of what the evening was to hold.
The woman leaned in, flicking her tongue out again to touch the girl’s cheek.
A throat clearing interrupted the woman. She turned to where the noise had emitted from, where another woman stood at the microphone.
“On this day, we are blessed.” came the voices, laced with anticipation.
The girl shut her eyes. Better to not see what was coming.
Eddie House is a 22 year old genderqueer manic pixie daydream. In their free time, they love to write, especially poetry and short stories. Their aim is for other queer young people to read their work and be inspired. You can find more of their work at http://eddielhouse.tumblr.com, or in Anatolios Magazine
You’ve seen me as Theda Bara, a Witch, and a Necromancer already (as well as Cleopatra, Elvis, and Andy Warhol) but here are some more fun costumes I’ve worn while figure modeling for the Friday morning art group at Hutchinson Art Center. The group is switching to Saturdays but hopefully I’ll still be able to make it in from time to time… Life’s a circus, or maybe a magic act in a shamanic ritual with Holly Hobbie… At any rate – beam me up Scotty, I have your missing spaceship part…
Yeah yeah, so none of that was really all that terrifying. Just another time warp in all honesty. At least there’s still some residual Rocky Horror vibes to be found, but then again, there usually are with me when I get into the identity based costumes.
But in follow up and in the spirit of so much of my other randomness, here’s a music video for Everything Changes by Eytan and The Embassy. Check it out if you want to see some more fun costumes in an immersive homage montage experience unlike any other. (If the video doesn’t load, just follow the link here.) See how many artists you can recognize in this quick change setup. Ready… Set… Go!
Here’s another view of Heaven in this twisted little afterlife story from Jennifer Weigel, titled All That Remains. Trigger warning: religious themes, suggestions of rape & murder.
I didn’t remember dying. I only vaguely remembered the thread of my life being weighed at the pearly gates. And now, here I was, in awe of the splendor of it all. I looked at the Heaven all around me. Everything was light and love. The sunlight sparkled off of the hills and valleys of the clouds, casting everything in a gossamer glow. Angelic faces shone with mirth and merriment from their depths. It was the most beautiful visage I had ever seen.
Until he showed up.
“Hey there, glad to see you made it,” Sebastian said. His words slithered off his tongue, just as they had during the trial. “I’m here to serve as your guide, to show you around Eternity.”
“But…” I stammered, looking at my feet. I still felt repulsed by him, couldn’t stand to look him in the eye. I wanted to strangle him, but I managed to tamp that feeling down by averting his gaze. “How did you get here?”
“I accepted Christ into my heart, just as you did. Isn’t it beautiful?” He grinned. His red hair bobbed up and down as he nodded. “Forgiveness is a blessing.”
“One you didn’t deserve,” I muttered under my breath, unsure of the proper etiquette or protocol for engaging with others in this place, or just how and why he would ever have been forgiven for his sins. “Where is my daughter?”
Sebastian frowned. “I’m sorry to say she never accepted Christ into her heart, and so she isn’t here,” he answered.
“What?” I seethed, anger bubbling from where it had roiled just below the surface. “How can this be?”
“Look, I don’t make the rules,” Sebastian spoke.
“But you’re here. And she’s not. No thanks to you!” My voice trembled as it rose.
“I understand your frustration. But it is what it is,” he replied.
“You’re the one who killed her!” I yelled, no longer able to contain my fury. No one else seemed to notice, too wrapped up in their own afterlives to care.
“Yes, but that was before. And I paid for that with my own life. In the electric chair. Your justice was served,” Sebastian said.
“I know, but…” I sighed. “Why isn’t Julianne here?”
“Like I said, she didn’t accept Christ into her heart as we did. It’s that simple,” Sebastian reiterated. “We just went through this.”
“Don’t you regret that?” I asked.
“Regret what? That she hadn’t accepted Christ? How would I have known? And it wouldn’t have mattered at that time, anyway – I was a different person then. Regret is an interesting concept; I never really did get it.” Sebastian pondered aloud. “Even after I became a Christian. I suppose I knew I’d done wrong as far as anyone else was concerned, that I acted from a place of selfishness when I raped and killed those girls… Inner turmoil. Let’s call it inner turmoil. But that was in the past.”
I began to hyperventilate. This just couldn’t be happening. My beautiful daughter, her golden blonde hair and blue eyes forever etched into my memory. My baby girl, so sweet and innocent and naïve. She never should have hitchhiked that ride. If only I’d known what she was up to… She hadn’t even seen her sweet sixteen, she was only fifteen and a half at the time of the assault.
“It doesn’t matter now. Had Julianne accepted Christ into her heart, she’d be here with us now. She did nothing else wrong,” he continued, interrupting my reverie. “I suppose then I’d have done her a favor.”
“Wait. What?!” I asked, obviously fuming.
“I know now that she hadn’t. But I would have had no way of knowing that then. And it was before I converted,” he went on. “If I regret anything, it’s the two that came after.”
“After what?” I harped at him. “After my daughter! You killed four more girls since then.”
“No,” he whispered. “After I accepted Christ. I slipped up. I tried; I really did. But my needs weren’t being met and I found ways to justify it at the time.”
“You disgust me,” I spat. “How can you even consider yourself a Christian?”
“I am no less so than you at this point, considering where we are,” he replied. “We are both here now, are we not?”
“I suppose, but still…” I answered, taking inventory of my surroundings. I was sure I’d been granted admittance into Heaven, that I passed the test. I vaguely remembered having done so, and walking through the pearly gates. Was this all an illusion?
“I am a true Christian, as you are,” Sebastian continued. “Just as I’m still a Scotsman no matter how I take my tea. Shall we begin our tour?”
He reached out to me, palm extended in a gesture of grace. I wasn’t wholly sure of where I was, which version of Eternity I’d landed in. Everything about this place was still so glorious, peaceful and serene. And yet…
If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to check out Heaven (based on the Talking Heads song) and Angels Meeting in the Hallways. And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
I have recently begun exploring Fibonacci poetry and penned this as a consideration for the Lovecraftian terrors while considering that Kansas was once an inland sea. It is also based on the beloved and enigmatic painting of Christina’s World by Andrew Wyeth.
She
stares
ahead;
the landscape
yawns ever further
spanning the distance between us
and that deep unthinkable unknowable abyss.
This plain was once an inland sea,
a vast ocean filled
with terrors
beyond
our
ken.
Time
stands
still for
none of us.
It marches towards
our inevitable decay.
Our fragile flesh succumbs to the horror of the void,
cradling our fallen progeny
and yearning for home.
Christina,
hurry
back.
Now.
It
could
happen
anywhere…
The farmhouse beckons
from its horizon vantage point,
thousands of blades of grass groping like tiny tendrils.
The ancestors grasping at straws,
hoping to evade
inevitable
collapse,
their
loss.
Stars
fall.
Panic
sounds beyond
our comprehension.
Their silent screams fall on deaf ears.
We cannot interpret their guttural languages
or understand their diminutive cries
this far from the tide.
Slumbering
depths still
snore
here.
The
ebb
and flow
roil and churn
with water’s rhythms,
caress the expanse of grasses
covering this now fragile and forsaken ocean.
The landscape gapes and stretches wide,
reaching to grab hold
of her dress,
earthbound.
Lost
her.
I hope you enjoyed this jaunt through Christina’s World into pure terror. Feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website. Or go on a trip to the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve.
