Jim here–I love David Davis. Not only does his feature writing and comic design kick ass, but the guy can do fiction to boot. For the first time we are able to feature a staff writer (had to go through the same blind screening process as anyone else) on HauntedMTL. I bring you something to chew on…


The teeth are not like normal teeth.

In the moment they are seen they are shocking.

In this jagged mouth the spacing was all wrong. The top row of teeth had a gap large enough between the teeth for a tooth from the bottom row to meet the top gum, and the bottom row had a gap large enough between each tooth to touch the bottom gum.

The mouth was like a zipper and the rows interlocked in a uncanny narrow wall of yellow. Rather than two rows of teeth, the grin was an unnatural singular row. Each tooth, with each closing of the jaw was growing progressively filed down and sharper. More jagged and snaggled in the mouth. Chunks of enamel were beginning to flake off and small divots began to appear between the teeth. The teeth that had been forced into the gums to make the uncanny pattern would wiggle and tear at the gums, but never quite uproot themselves.

In the moment the gaps closed there were sounds.

The scraping of tooth against tooth for one. The noise was repulsive at a primal level, like a bone being dragged and splintered across another. As each tooth sheared those around it, it was then followed by a wet squelch of each tooth sinking into the raw and bloody gums in the mouth.

In the moment the mouth closed there was pain.

As the teeth sank into the bloodied gums, fire would roar from each puncture and spread throughout the entire mouth. Tears would come streaming down wide and terrified eyes. The pain would cause shortened breathing, and panic, and even clenching of the jaw. It would only last for so long, though, as the mouth would need to open.

In the moment the mouth opened there was taste.

The hot scent of blood and the taste of infection and pus would gush from the gums as the snaggle would untangle itself. Hot streams of sickness and vital fluid would run down the gums, onto the bloated and bruised tongue, and down the throat.

In the moment there is a reprieve; I drown in my own sickness and it will all be over.

David Davis is a writer and illustrator in Southern California who makes comics and creepy things. See more of his work at hpkomics.com.

David Davis

Jim Phoenix

El Jefe

About the Author

Real skull. Don't ask. You wouldn't believe it if I told you.

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