HauntedMTL Original – The Perfect Self – Kristina Spears
The Perfect Self by Kristina Spears
The perfect body before him will soon be his. He just has to figure out how he should dispose of his own. The window is open with the curtains pulled back allowing for the cool evening light to shine through into the single room apartment. The sound of passing cars and the chatter from passing strangers make up the hum of the city. William leans back in his plastic chair musing at the weapons spread out neatly on the white folding table. The perfect body and his soon to be new self sits peacefully nude in the other chair across the table. It sits in silence seemingly asleep with a plastic smile. It is younger with thick dark hair and has sharp features with broad shoulders. Best of all it has a six-pack. William had always wanted a six pack and now he is finally be getting it. Sometimes he imagines The Perfect Self, as he has been calling it, agreeing with him. It too agrees that indeed, it, The Perfect Self is far more superior compared to him. William does not mind his new companion’s cockiness because he is sure that his Perfect Self is right. He knows by now that it has a slightly improved likable personality that surely others would enjoy. By their late interactions The Perfect Self may even be smarter, though he suspects The Perfect Self to be cheating when it came to card games. Rubbing at his protruding dark veins on his forehand William thinks back to the recurring nightmares. The dream is fuzzy with somebody unknown. The death was always out of his hands. The feeling of powerlessness always lingers past the point of waking but things are different now that he has The Perfect Self.
“The process will be like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.” The man says, disrupting the silence in the shadowing room. The evening light glows and shifts over the body making it appear to shrug at the statement. Despite The Perfect Self’s disinterest William continues to add another example to the process. “Think of it like this. A Phoenix. It dies and in a blaze of fury it is reborn.”
“Maybe”, speaks his Perfect Self thoughtfully with a deep, husky voice compared to the William’s own gravely, shrill voice. “Snakes, did you know, they shed their old skin and becomes like new.” Hell, thinks William. He fucking hates snakes. The lighting lowers to the body’s shoulder making it appear the body is moving forward to examine the tools before him.
“How about the knife?” William imagines the Perfect Self say. “It could be fun.”
“You think?” He questions pulling at the bits of his own stubble until a place of his chin becomes raw. William imagines this place on his face becoming infected and then spreading across his body after his death, leaving nothing behind but a pile of yellow festering pus.
“Yeah. Just picture pregnant Jenna finding you in the morning. Her big swollen breast bouncing about as she panics about losing her chance to bed you one last time.” William laughs at this and it only becomes worse as he thought of The Perfect Self playfully pretending to be cupping imaginary breasts.
“Is it yours?” Questions The Perfect Self. The room collapses to dead silence. William moves forward placing his weight against the table. His index finger tapping the blade until it makes a deep enough cut to draw blood. Of course it was, William thought. Whose else could it be?
“This method could be painful.” William admits, thinking about laying in the liquid of his own blood drowning.
“I guess you’re right.” The tone of voice The Perfect Self returns to its usual playful tempo. “Plus you could end up with bathrobe Joe coming in instead. Just think you could have his testicles dangling over your head if you somehow fall onto the floor.”
“Stop.” The man responds swiftly, feeling his face crawl with the idea that ball sweat could be dripping onto his face as he lays hopefully dead so not to be able to smell the salty musk. “Who knows, maybe it’s Bathrobe Joe.” The Perfect Self says, not changing it’s smiling expression.
“What? The baby?” Questions William. Joe? Bathrobe Joe? Hell no. That man can’t utter a word without it becoming a stutter and his looks despite him being younger, let’s face it, has a close resemblance to a dried up tanned manatee. And he’s always wearing a fucking bathrobe. No woman would touch that.
Luckily the shine off the revolver brings back Williams thoughts to the greater task at hand. “In one of my dreams.” William said. “ I was shot. I don’t know about the gun either.”
“Why do you have it as an option then?” Asks The Perfect Self.
William shrugs not certain himself, but he figures The Perfect Self deserve some kind of response. “I like the idea of having the option.” With that, the only other option on the table is the rope.
“It could be a quick death.” Encourages The Perfect Self, with a tone that almost seems to have too much interest by the idea of William swaying off the ground with a rope gripping tightly around his neck.
“I have heard that people piss themselves during this kind of death.” William responds, wavering from the idea. The mental image of him being soiled with saliva dripping down of his face does not sit too well with him. “I can hear them now talking at my funeral, William, I knew him well. He smelt of piss.”
“You know, no one would have to find your body.” Reassures The Perfect Self like a true friend. “I could just hide it. I will just tell people I-you had plastic surgery. Took vitamins. Did some exercise. We will continual living like nothing ever happened.”
“Maybe. Maybe- The dream you know-” The man pauses feeling foggy. “Sorry. I have been having trouble thinking lately.” William stutters feeling something growing in the back of his mind and he starts to laugh to some unknown joke. It could be about Jenna or Joe. Was it about The Perfect Self or was it about him? William jerks, and forces himself to sit silently in his chair.
“That’s okay. I am here now,” The Perfect Self responds still holding its plastic smile. The evening has almost faded completely, save for some streams of blue light that shifts across The Perfect Self’s body making it appear that it was moving closer. William doesn’t move as The Perfect Self pushes itself over him with its hands spread gently across his throat. William allows himself to lean back in his chair still trusting that The Perfect self will give him a dignified death like any true friend would.
“It’s okay.” The Perfect Self repeats. “It’s okay.” I know thought William. It’s okay.
Blood oozes from his throat as The Perfect Self dug its thumbs inside. For a brief moment William struggles in The Perfect Self’s grasp, forgetting that this was what he wanted.
In the blacken silence of the room, The Perfect Self
whispers to itself, “Hello, I am William.”
Kristina Spears grew up in a small town in Ohio where she enjoys spending most of her time outside even if that means taking her laptop with her. She attended Miami University and graduated from the writing program. Kristina has a love for writing fantasy and science fiction. With an obsession in the supernatural, horror, and messed up stories, these themes tend to make their way into her writing.
Poised Potion Poison Potential, an RPG story by Jennifer Weigel
(There – I finally said it! Second time’s the charm. Can we move along now?)
So I think Barbarella is losing it. Like she’s been sneaking healing potions. We never did manage to get to an alchemist before she downed one of those unmarked flasks we got off the goblins when we took their lair. Yeah, we all know they’re healing potions but I can’t help but think the goblins weren’t getting their goods legit. I mean, they are goblins, ‘nuff said. And I’ve heard some of the black market varieties have other weird properties too, so I fear maybe she’s gotten a bad one or something.
Anyway, she’s been acting strange, spending a lot of time by herself. And not working out, like usual, but rather rifling through the treasure trove. Not that she’s at all sneaky about it. I mean c’mon, it is Barbarella after all. She’s kind of the polar opposite of discreet. She’s always been more of a don’t-tread-on-me and mess-with-my-buddies-mess-with-my-war-axe kind of a girl.
It’s making Squidge suspicious. Yeah I know, Squidge is a bit edgy anyway, but they’re acting even more so now. They seem to have an even tighter grip on whatever things they’ve stashed away all up in that cloak of holding or whatever it is that they never take off and that makes it hard to remember much of anything about them. Hell, I don’t even know what gender they are, not that it matters anyway. I don’t concern myself with what Squidge is or isn’t up to so I don’t really care; generally the best is to assume the worst and move on. Nosing around in Squidge’s business is like begging for a stab wound to the back in your sleep, if you know what I mean. But they’ve been acting even more paranoid than normal, so I think they’ve noticed that something is off too.
You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve even had to down a healing potion; I tend to stay in the far back and let the other two hack n slash, it’s safer that way. And health elixirs aren’t my cup-of-probiotic-smoothie-protein-tea (it’s all too snake oil salesman fad craze diet antioxidant stuff for me). I’m more of a freewhellin fireball flingin kind of spell-slinger. The healing arts magics are a bit too… mushy gushy lovey dovey for me.
We aren’t a goody-two-shoes fixer-upper team, more of a nice-fill-in-the-blank-I-think-I’ll-take-it kind of ensemble. You know the type. #thuglifeforever. But times like this do make me wish we had a paladin or a cleric or even a druid to tag along. Where do you find the moral high grounders when you need them anyway? Sure, I guess I could go to a church or something, but some of the lesser evil critters I’ve wagered pacts and bargains with may not take too kindly to that. And the nature nice guys are all save-the-treants which generally doesn’t mesh with the whole fireball jive.
I guess Squidge could ask someone, but they only really talk to The Guild and just in that you-don’t-stab-my-back-I-don’t-stab-yours kind of sense, so we don’t have anyone to consult with on these kinds of things. It’s certainly not worth seeking out a 100 gp pearl for a wizened old wizard to snort for further clarity, even if the relative scarcity and exchange rate has made them significantly smaller and easier to haul around at this juncture, assuming you can find them at all. I swear, if the alchemists didn’t need to get high to get anything done it’d be a whole lot easier for everyone. And don’t even get me started on the Oracle, that nympho dominatrix bitch. Suffice to say I will NOT be going back there anytime soon, for ANY reason.
So here we are. Maybe whatever it is’ll pass on its own. But I noticed a couple more of those goblin healing potions have gone missing. We all know they don’t work if you aren’t hurt. And I swear I saw Barbarella take her own axe to the shin before she downed one when she thought I wasn’t looking during my nightly séance with the campfire flames. My cohorts don’t realize I can actually do more than it seems from my ritual state. The demonspawn that grant me my powers aren’t always all-engrossing, especially if I’m channeling things I’ve done a bajillion times already and not trying to harness something new. Frankly sometimes it’s best to tune the spirits out since they pontificate at length for no reason, but I suppose I’m not one to talk.
I keep coming back to this thought though. Why would Barbarella hurt herself just to chug a stupid goblin potion anyway? Usually those dares go the other way. Goblin potions taste like bad grog two days following a dwarven ale upchuck hangover, and that’s if you’re lucky. Often they’re worse. And they’re not even that good as far as healing elixirs, mending maybe a minor flesh wound at best. They’re crappy, no getting around it, and a last resort at best. Why would she deliberately go out of her way to drink that shit?
You know, there’s a whole stash of the things left, and I am a bit down on health myself. Maybe I should try one to see what the allure is. Perhaps the camaraderie and shared experience could help me get Barbarella to sober up and leave the toxic sludge alone. Or at the very least, maybe I’ll understand what she sees in them. Perhaps they’re new and improved, but I seriously doubt it seeing as how they’re still just ill-obtained swag we got off some low-level goblins. You know, no one ever really gives goblins anything worth having unless they’re trying to exploit them in some way, and even then it’s really not worth it, seeing as how the goblins don’t have anything anybody wants to barter…
I swear those potions were in this satchel here; we had like over 100 of the things. Oh, here’s one, way down in the bottom of the bag having fallen under some of the other crap we looted that wasn’t worth much of anything. Wow I really had to dig deep to fish that out, and it’s only been about a week since the goblins’ lair… In the light looks like the same ol’ ordinary purple black pink tinged sludge we normally find, a tad more sparkle factor but not enough to care. Now why are Barbarella and Squidge both looking at me like I’m holding the golden goose egg of everlasting mana and fingering their weapons?
If you enjoyed this RPG story by Jennifer Weigel, perhaps you will want to see some art from previous campaigns or read the Twilight saga, both on Haunted MTL here.
Check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s writing here at Jennifer Weigel Words.
This is the kickoff to a new series exploring nature that is kind of horrifying, at least in ways. Our first subject is Vampires Among Us. There are lots of animals named for vampires, sometimes due to folklore and sometimes for their appearance (like the Vampire Squid), but most of these animals don’t have blood sucking tendencies.
Bats & Birds
There are legit vampire leaf-nosed bats in Central and South America that drink blood. They feed on mammals and are often shown to feed on livestock. They’d be kinda cute if they weren’t so creepy. There are also vampiric birds: some finches in the Galapagos have developed the taste for blood of other birds, mainly seabirds that flock to the islands to raise their young.
Leeches & Lampreys & More
And then you get into leeches and lampreys and other denizens of the water that are known to attach themselves to larger creatures and drink their blood. Leeches were even believed to have medicinal value (and still are in certain circumstances). And there are also numerous plants that are known to be parasitic and feed on other plants, wrapping their roots or vines around others to steal nutrients.
Spiders
Now I’m going to drift off into the realm where this becomes truly horrific. Spiders. Now, spiders aren’t vampires per se, seeing as how they actually kill their prey – they don’t just feed off of it while it remains living and wanders about its business. But because of their structure, they cannot eat solid foods, so they have to inject their prey with enzymes to liquefy it so they can slurp it out like a protein shake. That’s sort of vampirism on steroids if you ask me, just the kind that no one is coming back from.
Bloodsucking Bugs
But let’s get back on topic. Now let’s consider mites and ticks and fleas and mosquitoes and the like. Some drink blood for their survival; others do so as part of their reproductive cycle (like mosquitoes which otherwise eat fruit and nectar but need the extra protein from blood to grow their eggs).
Ticks need to feed on blood once at every stage of their life cycle and can pick up diseases along the way (like Lyme Disease) but don’t always do so. Different ticks are more likely to come in contact with different things and often humans are not their preferred meal but they are opportunistic and will feed on whatever is available when necessary. Symptoms of illness from tick bites may take years to develop and can have really weird side effects (like the allergy associated with Lone Star Ticks which makes a person unable to consume mammalian flesh).
Anyway, here are some brief glimpses of vampirism in nature. Thank you for joining us for Nightmarish Nature and may you avoid getting bitten by any true vampires among us… And I still think spiders take first place in the creepy eating category here, even if they aren’t technically vampiric.
This story came to me in a sort of roundabout way from a rather unusual source. So I thought I’d share it with you, dear readership, and see if you can make heads or tails of it. – Jennifer Weigel
Dread Pirate Rum Tum Tugger could tell this was the right spot.
The site, beneath the sweeping limbs of the Live Oak, Spanish Moss swaying gently in the breeze, was a perfect match to the crude map he had bought off that soothsayer Deuteronomy.
The earth moved easily, as if it had been excavated previously. He dug in with greater fervor with each swipe. The sandy soil gave way to reveal something hard. He scooped and smoothed the remaining detritus from the surface as he uncovered a box.
The carton was simple.
No markings; no ornamentation; no writing. Just a plain cardboard crate, brittle from having been buried for so long but still sturdy. He hoisted it from its burrow.
“Ha HO!” he shouted to the passing breeze, rousing a small cloud of birds that erupted from a nearby thicket. They captured his attention for a moment, but he quickly refocused and returned to his task.
The box was locked but no difference.
Any self-respecting ruffian like himself could pick a lock in seconds. And he did so with panache, as was his way. He pried the lid open and licked his lips.
Inside was the legendary Kernel of Eternal Life, a small sparrow’s heart, still beating.
Artwork description: Myself as Dread Pirate Queen Miss Kitty wearing black bell sleeve shirt and black vinyl skirt with strapping leather belt over leopard print shirt and tights, with strapping leather boots, pirate head wrap and leopard cat ears.
Image text reads: Purr! Avast ye mateys, Dread Pirate Queen Miss Kitty invites ye to check out her booty stash and dig ye up a dungbie prize. Seek ye some buried treasure! Just grab ye a plastic litter scoop and dig… dig… dig… to ye heart’s content.
I created this image for a promotional poster for a performance piece in a charity art show in which I, as Dread Pirate Queen Miss Kitty, hawked a carnival sideshow style sidewalk installation. For a mere $5 donation to the animal shelter the show supported, gallery goers could dig around in a kiddie pool full of litter to find a prize: a cheap plastic trinket from the dollar store. I had some takers, including one kid who seemed to really enjoy the digging and whose parents were all in, saying “You know, you can totally do that at home too.”
For more cat antics, we invite you to read C-2747’s logbook here on Haunted MTL. Feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or on her writing, fine art, and conceptual projects websites.
