More coloring pages!!! Featuring the rest of the Total Monster Makeover team, as outlined in the Meet the Cast earlier this month and as seen in last week’s coloring pages…
The Headless Horseman, crackerjack of the hot couture fashion scene
Swamp Thing, sustainable style guru
The Wolf Man, everyone’s favorite lycanthrope on Total Monster Makeover
Jennifer Weigel is a multi-disciplinary mixed media conceptual artist residing in Kansas USA. Weigel utilizes a wide range of media to convey her ideas, including assemblage, drawing, fibers, installation, jewelry, painting, performance, photography, sculpture, video and writing. You can find more of her work at:
https://www.jenniferweigelart.com/
https://www.jenniferweigelprojects.com/
https://jenniferweigelwords.wordpress.com/
This month we are going to explore more fun marker art from Jennifer Weigel, starting with black and white line drawing. Jennifer is getting ready for her big Life Is Brilliant solo show in March and has snuck in a few spookier themes, so she wanted to share them with you here.
Witch Way
The magic is strong in this Witch Way line drawing with its fun witchy head-topper, complete with striped hat band and star dangle. No self-respecting wizard’s ensemble would be complete without it.
Kitty Witch
And now the adorable Kitty Witch will don the Witch Way hat and cast a spell of cuteness on you. You gotta wonder just how the hat stays on but best not to question these things. We all know it’s magic…
Not Today Satan
The devil is in the details in this Not Today Satan line drawing, and boy is he pissed!
She Devil
This She Devil is just plain goofy. Maybe she’s coyly playing innocent; it’s not a look most devils can pull off, seeing as how innocence really isn’t their schtick…
Hang in There Spider
This little spider came down to your tuffet to remind you to Hang in There. She is very well-intentioned and is only looking out for you. I guess maybe she’s not so little though, she is an Argiope after all…
Christmas is about traditions and family. And Dr. Virginia âGinnyâ Kostyshyn is making up her own this year â frozen chicken nuggets for dinner every night, crying while playing Roger Whitakerâs âHome for Christmasâ on repeat, glasses of Riesling wine while watching âItâs a Wonderful Lifeâ, and dodging Dr. Katherine âKateâ Wrightâs texts.
Work is harder to dodge Kate, though, since they work in the same lab, in the same office and on the same experiments. And Kate doesnât like to tiptoe and pussyfoot the way Ginny does.Â
But thanks to Ginnyâs insistent avoidance and quietness, theyâve reverted back to last names. All while Subject 205 a.k.a. Greg, now an off-hand lab assistant, watches the situation darkly.
And heâs not apt to get into other peopleâs business, far be it from him, a year-old reanimated body. However, he has vague memories of last Christmas with Ginny. Fractured recollections of tinsel, eyes glaring at him, skin sliding off, mashed potatoes, Roger WhitakerâŠand Ginny crying as she stitched him back up.
He also remembers wiping away a tear and apologizing. For being who he is. For being what he is. For ruining everything like he ruined in his first life. And he recalls her hands being so warm, as warm as her smile, as she told him that they had nothing to apologize for.
And tonight is Christmas Eve, with Dr. Wright putting on her coat, coldly silent, and Dr. Kostyshyn slowly shutting down her laptop and hesitating.
âAll right, Greg,â Dr. Wright says, her clipped accent echoing in the white, clean lab. âHave a good night. Dr. Woodruff is on call. Heâll be in tomorrow. Have a holly jolly and all that.â
âYes,â he grunts and his eyes peer over to Dr. Kostyshyn, the offset orbs wide and inquiring. He earns a stern look for it, so he concedes, âYou, too.â
Dr. Kostyshyn peeks up, but Dr. Wright just nods, âDr. Kostyshyn.â
Ginny Kostyshynâs face falls and she nods in return. âYes, good night. Have a happy-â
But Dr. Wright is already walking out the door. Ginny can feel her chest clench, another new tradition. She gathers her coat and scarf listlessly. âIâll come by tomorrow, Greg, donât worry.â
âI donât worry,â he says, feeling some of that heartache. He doesnât worry, though, when he has a plan.
âAh, good. ThenâŠI guess have a good night.â
***
Ginny checks her phone but no texts to dodge tonight. Not from Kate and not from her family. One text from Bath and Bodyworks telling her about a special and wishing her a happy holiday season.
At least someone cares.
She sniffles as she flops into her couch and searches around for a half empty bottle she left last night. This isnât like her. She knows that, so why canât Kate know that?
The last argument they had, Kate told her to grow up and stop pining over a love that wasnât reciprocated. Just like that. Ginnyâs family didnât love her.
Yes, maybe itâs true. Maybe they havenât called her since last Christmas. Maybe they hated her. Maybe theyâve blocked her on social media. Maybe they never would have her come back. Maybe sheâd never have her motherâs lasagna again.
Stupid things like that seem so much more significant.
Stupid, stupid traditions she could no longer have, but still remember.
And after the bottle is empty, the tradition of crying herself to sleep begins again, as it did the night before, and the night before that.
***
Kate is angry and getting piss drunk, looking at her phone again. Itâs useless, she knows, but still.
She sighs and puts it back into her pocket. Along with other lonesome losers, sheâs in a dive bar, watching some American football highlights from a game twenty years ago. Her parents are already asleep in Birmingham, six hours ahead of her.
She tries to watch the television, but itâs just flashing images. Itâs just lights and muted sounds. Itâs not real, doesnât feel real. Merry Christmas.
Sheâs been away from her family for ten years now and she was half-hoping, now that Ginnyâs family was bust, that maybe, just maybe, they might have gone to her hometown. Itâs been five years since sheâs gone back and even though she calls and Skypes, itâs about as real as the television. Just flashing images. Itâs not the smell of her mother, the warmth of her father, and the sassy gleam in her grannyâs eye. Itâs all different.
But when she vaguely brought up the holidays, Ginny shut down.
Ginny shut down, but worst of all, shut her out.
She taps the counter for another and the bartender nods. ââKay, but then youâre cut off.â
âGot it.â She had a long, quiet few days ahead of her. It wasnât so much she was angry at Ginny, it was just hard to have someone keep grieving and not know what to do. Kate had never been the shoulder to cry on. She had put all of her efforts into school, career, study, science, and technology. She wanted to be one of the best.
But being one of the best made her one of the lonliest and she thought those days were over when Ginny somehow wormed her way into Kateâs life and heart.
She thinks about the gift in her desk, sitting there for the next few days. For an eternity, perhaps, unopened.
How disappointing.
How frustrating.
How soft and stupid.
She finishes her drink and cashes out.
***
One empty bottle later in Ginnyâs home and one cold, drunken walk later to Kateâs home, and suddenly they both get a call. A call from the lab. It rings to both of them, at opposite ends of the city. It wakes Ginny up and startles Kate into falling off the sidewalk.
âH-hello?â Ginny stutters into the phone, frizzled hair in her mouth.
Kate is still picking herself back up and then joins. âWhat?â
âOh, hello,â Greg says, monotone, as usual. âYou both may want to come back to the lab.â
Sighing, Kate replies, âDr. Woodruff is-â
âHeâs dead,â Greg states, looking down at the man split in two. Shame, really. Woodruff wasnât too bad. Just opened his mouth when he ate and clipped his toenails in the lab. âRemember the man-pig hybrid Dr. Chuz is working on?â
âYes,â they say in unison but with alternating inflections.
âOh God,â Ginny exclaims.
âWhat happened?â Kate asks, looking for a cab or something to get her to the lab. Itâs hard with everything spinning.
âIt escapedâŠsomehow,â Greg quietly explains. âI think itâs a bit sick, though. Reanimated meat probably didnât do it any good.â
âGreg?! Are you okay?â Ginny asks and gets up, tangling in her coat and scarf.
He looks down, legs half-eaten and chartreuse blood pooling around him. âHmm, Iâm still alive. The legs need work, though.â
âWeâre on our way,â Kate tells him, and still looks around at an empty street, â…somehow. I canât drive. Ginny, can you pick me up?â
âUhâŠâ She looks at the empty bottle on the ground. âUnfortunatelyâŠI probably shouldnât drive.â
They both sigh.
âLetâs get cabs and meet there. Greg, is it still in the building?â
âOh yes,â he states, as the mig- er pan, whatever it is, is heaving in the corner, vomiting up bits of the doctor and vile parts of himself. Greg eyes the bits and bobs in morbid fascination. âI donât think heâs going anywhere for a while. I think I didnât agree with him.â
âThey keep a shotgun upstairs, so weâll come down with that.â
âA shotgun, Kate?! While weâre- uhâŠâ
âPissed?â
âIâm not- Oh, no, Iâm just tipsy.â
âYouâre slurring.â
âAnd Iâm losing blood,â Greg calming brings them back on point.
âRight. Since youâre âjust tipsyâ and American, you can call, well, shotgun.â
âOh, Kate,â Ginny admonishes as she flings her shoes on. âDonât worry, Greg. Weâre on our way.â
And just like that, his plan is in action.
***
When they both make their way to the underground lab, Ginny faring better than Kateâs weaving and swaying. However, they find a horrific mess. JustâŠa mess. Everything is turned upside-down. Blood on the walls, on the floor, on the ceiling and doors.
Calmly, in the mess, Greg is leaning against a desk, playing a word game on his phone. His legs are torn asunder and remain only in strings of cartilage, bone, and muscles. It reminds Ginny of oozing and meaty string cheese. Looking up, he nods. âMerry Christmas.â
âJesus H!â Kate breathes out.
âWhere is it?â Ginny says, shotgun shaking in her hands, almost the size of her.
âI think itâs dead,â he tells them and points to a hidden corner. âI heard gagging and strugglingâŠServes it right.â
Ginny goes to peek while Kate remains. âArenât you a bit calm?â
They share a glance to size up each other as Kate sways and refuses to acknowledge it as much as Greg refuses to acknowledge his string cheese legs. Thereâs a pause before he says, âWhy wouldnât I be? Iâve done nothing wrong.â
After her investigation, Ginny breathes in relief. âItâs dead! I think it died by aspiration.â
âHallelujah,â Kate sarcastically replies, still glaring at Greg, who is almost at the next level in his game.
âWell,â Ginny sighs, pulling off her coat. âI guess we, uhâŠâ
She gestures to the bits of Dr. Woodruff, the larger pieces of him, the vomit, the lab, the everything. âGreg is first, I suppose.â
âI guess, the wanker,â Kate mumbles, slipping off her own coat, then having to find the coat rack in the calamity. âYou donât deserve us, 205.â
He shrugs as he contently plays on his phone, continuing to ooze out, without real concern now that the scientists are here.
Ginny puts 205 up into the examination bed and sedates him while Kate goes into her desk to get some supplies. Thatâs when she finds her present to Ginny with a frown. It seems as good a time as any.
Before they need to scrub up and put on surgical gowns, she tosses it to Ginny. âMerry Christmas. Itâs after midnight.â
âOh, sorry. Your present is at my apart-â
âJust open it.â
Itâs small. Very small. Box-shaped. And Ginny is nervous and afraid. It could be something that sheâs not ready for. What if itâs a tone-deaf, âlet me be your family since you donât have oneâ? What could she even say if itâs a ring? It just feels cruel.
With shaking hands, she opens it slowly, relieved to find a key instead. A key? To where? Kate wouldnât be so cheesy as to say to her heart. It’s not a car key, thank goodness.
âItâs to a cabinet,â Kate explains, seeing the confusion. âRemember when we were here the first year and there was that cabinet and you lost the key?â
Blinking, she half-recalls. Honestly, she just remembers being scolded for it and the panic afterwards.
âAnd you kept looking for it and I got annoyed and just took a crowbar and sledgehammer to it. Remember?â
Ginny laughs. âOh, yeah. I thought you were crazy.â
âYou called me impatient at the time.â Swaying, but sobering up, Kate sighs and walks over to Ginny. Sees the little key in her green-bloodied hands, shining like the star on top of a Christmas tree. âYou said itâd turn up eventually.â
âGod, that was years ago, though.â
Kateâs hands curve around Ginnyâs carefully. âI know that youâre upset with your family. Itâs not what you wanted or expected. Theyâre being shits about it and it hurts to be on the outside.
âI found the key recently and I just wanted to give it back and remind you that sometimes it takes time. You were right. Sometimes you have to be patient. Maybe with them. Maybe with yourselfâŠMaybe sometimes even with me. But youâre going to get back what you lose. Not always in the moment you want it, but youâll find it. You just have to be patient and remember what you have now.â
Ginny purses her lips so she doesnât cry like a sop, but leans forward to touch her forehead to the chin there. With a long breath, she replies, âThank you.â
âOf course. And maybe if youâre not too busyâŠyou can come back with me and meet the Wrights. My mum collects ugly porcelain swans, my dad has the worst jokes, their dog is full of farts, but gran isnât so bad. And Iâm not saying that as-…I want you to meet them. Theyâre much more normal and better people than Iâll ever be.â
A stray tear falls as Ginny sniffs and chuckles. âYouâre not so bad.â
âIâm about to sew up a reanimated corpse that was half-eaten by a pig-headed abominationâŠIâm not great. ButâŠIâve got you here, so itâs not awful.â She leans down to punctuate her gift with a kiss.
Ginny smiles and accepts the offered kiss warmly, realizing how much sheâs missed it. âMm, and when weâre done, we get to clean up the body of the aforementioned abomination and get to break the news to Dr. Chuz.â
âThatâs okay. Iâll do it. I donât mind ruining his Christmas; he misspells my name constantly.â Kate smirks and kisses Ginnyâs cheek.
âMerry Christmas, Dr. Wright,â Ginny quietly says, hugging tight onto her girlfriend.
âMerry Christmas, Dr. Kostyshyn,â Kates replies and holds her back, just as tightly.
Itâs midnight, officially Christmas Day, and Aly is sitting outside on the cold pavement outside her house. Thick snowflakes fall on her hair as she stares at the Christmas lights on the roof, a dance of reds and greens and blues and golds. Her robe is damp from the wet snow, her once fuzzy purple slippers are now crispy and hard to the touch after years of use. Her dadâs BB-gun, which he let her practice sometimes and did a terrible job hiding in the garage, lay right beside her.Â
She has been waiting all night for her friends to come home. Her babysitter, who fell asleep hours ago, has no idea that sheâs outside right now. Her twin brotherâs snores rippled throughout the house as she snuck out. His room, on the second floor, has a window that faces the street. Itâs the window sheâs staring at right now. Her parents are out, wonât be back until late. If Alyâs lucky, her friends will come before her parents come home. Sheâs been waiting for hours now, for her friends to crawl across the roof and lift up her brotherâs window, pop open the screen, sneak inside and slither across his room, through the wooden floors in the hallway, down the stairs and into the stockings hung above the fireplace. The babysitter is so glued to her phone in another room in the house, and sometimes she sleeps when she has to stay late, so she wouldnât notice Alyâs friends, who will sneak in quietly and think no one knows they’re there. But Aly knows.
For years, things died in her house on Christmas day. It was small at first, just a houseplant or two. But then two Christmases ago, her friends got greedy. The family woke up to a house full of dead plants, to all five fish floating at the top of the fish tank, the latter of which ruined Aly’s entire winter break because she felt so terribly sorry for them. Last year, the family got a cat over the summer. Christmas morning, Peanut was nowhere to be found. Aly still doesnât know what happened to him; thinking about it too much scares her.
But her friends made a mistake last year. Before realizing the cat was missing, Aly and her brother were filled with nothing but joy on Christmas morning. She was even feeling especially generous and ran into her brotherâs room to get a toy for him when she saw her friends escape. They slammed the window shut, the screen lay outside on the roof. She watched them slither, pink goo trailing behind them. When she told her mom about the broken screen and the friends she saw, her mom ignored the bit about her new friends and popped the screen back in, thinking Aly’s brother must’ve been messing around with it again. Aly tried to tell her brother about the friends, but he wasnât interested. She tried to tell her dad the friends stole Peanut, but he insisted the feline mustâve ran away. Aly was always making up stories, and they were all tired of pretending to believe them.
But this year was different. Aly didnât know what these friends were going to kill next and she refused to find out. She didnât care how much snow was falling, how cold it was outside, how freezing her ears and toes had become. Sheâll wait and wait as long as she could. She was ready.
***
Check out more of our holiday stories here at HauntedMTL and have a very happy and haunted holiday season!
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