Signal Transmitted, Message Received by Jennifer Weigel
The street was desolate except for a few stray streetlamps. There hadn’t been many stragglers around these parts; these back alleys of London didn’t see much traffic nowadays. Not since the murders started anyway. But I wouldn’t know anything about that. Wink.
A wailing shriek erupted through the darkness and the rain. A cop car was either hot on the trail or had a hunch about something. I needed to duck and cover, and fast. I dashed into a dusty old storefront to let the wailing sirens scream off into the distance and to get out of the rain for a bit. The rain didn’t bother me near so much as the commotion.
The smell of moldy books permeated the shop. There weren’t really any wares of note; the place was empty save for a smattering of old bookcases bereft of their contents. Despite the lingering odor, there were no books to be found, or anything else for that matter. There was nobody around to greet me, except for a strange object perched on the front table by an antiquated cash register.
It more or less resembled a baby doll head and other detritus on a metal structure. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen, like some sort of horrific creation by one of those nasty children that harvested all of their sister’s dolls for parts. I grinned as I recollected my misspent youth. Eventually the dolls gave way to a bigger and brighter enterprise – harvested bits can get you a long way, you know. Even a crooked tooth can fetch a pretty penny if you know who’s in the market…
The cop car wailed past, off towards some unseen calling. Good riddance. The cops typically never take much interest in these parts, which is part of why I’d picked this as my stomping grounds. Less attention can go a long way. Smile. Yeah, a couple of vagrants had died here already. And sure, they’d started an investigation. But it wasn’t going anywhere fast, and it wasn’t likely to. No sense in moving on just yet.
The damn doll head continued to drill holes into my psyche. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that I could sense that it was watching me. Not that there was anything to show for it, since the eyes never blinked nor dilated or anything. But nonetheless, it was following my every movement, I was certain of it. I wanted to reach out and smash its head in but something within me dared not draw too close.
Still, the shopkeep would be an easy mark and there was no one to be found out and about given the weather and the recent circumstances. The remaining vagrants had cleared out save for myself. Best not keep my buyers waiting… I ducked behind a nearby bookcase and called out to the empty storefront, “Hello! Anybody here?” A gust of wind outside the window roared in response. I clutched my dagger close under the fold of my coat. Nobody came. I peered out toward the register.
Suddenly, the doll’s eyes flashed a blinding beacon of white light before returning to their vacant stare, as if I had been caught in the flash of a camera. A hollow shrill sound like a mechanical chime echoed forth from within the bizarre creature and was gone again only a moment after. What a creepy security system.
I was most definitely being watched and decided to take to the street again. I had to get out of there. Briskly, I left the dusty vacant storefront and crept out into the rain. I could still feel the doll’s gaze at my rear, causing the hairs on my neck to jolt and prickle from the wayward energies charging the air between us.
I swaddled myself in my trench coat as I turned away from the building to slink into the nearby alley. From there, a flash of light greeted me and I heard a familiar mechanical chime, My heart sunk in my chest. I turned slowly to see the baby doll headed creature a little ways down the alley studying me with those same hollow eyes from atop its metal tower. Only moments before it had been perched by the cash register in the vacant storefront and now here it was in the alley.
My mind reeling, I turned back towards the storefront and picked up my pace, heading for the park across the street. What was that thing? Why was it following me? Who knew? I stopped under a burnt out streetlamp and stared back towards the alley and vacant storefront. Nothing. The rain drummed down in silvery streaks across the street, flickering into and out of focus. I shuffled over to the park bench I knew would be waiting for me. Sigh.
As I glanced over my shoulder at the street, I saw it again. The same creepy baby-doll-head-watchtower-thing. It just stood sentry, offering no clue as to how it had gotten there. My fear gave way to hate, boiling and festering beneath my skin. No one was on to me; I’d covered all my tracks perfectly. Whatever this was, it had to go. Anger welled up in me. I stalked over to the thing and stared at it. It stood there unmoving, staring blankly ahead.
My hand drew back in slow motion, knife in tow. I lunged forward at the creature, intent on smashing it in. The butt end of the knife met porcelain as I made contact with the baby doll head, sinking into the fragile surface as if it were an egg. It gave way, shattering into a million points of light as it emitted one last bright flash and mechanical chime. I recoiled and stared at the scene before me as it came into focus.
“Don’t move,” a cop shouted from the car, hunched behind the driver’s side door like it was a riot shield. Another cop had his sights trained on me from the passenger door, I could feel the weight of his itchy finger at the trigger of his gun. The cop car headlight lay smashed and shattered at my feet, glass strewn everywhere.
You can read another tale of creepy doll head mayhem by Jennifer Weigel on Haunted MTL here.
And feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or here on her website.
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.
