The nightmare

Susan could feel her muscles release and her bones relax. It had been yet another long hard day and she had been looking forward to collapsing on the bed. Just as she started to dose off, the door creaked open.  “Mommy? I’m scared”. Susan sighed deeply. She didn’t have the energy to argue about the existence of the boogieman with her 5 year old daughter tonight. “Come get in”.

When little Katie got in, Susan reached for her to pull her in, to keep her safe and warm. “What have you got there?” Susan couldn’t see in the dark, but could feel that Katie had some large hard object in her little arms. “It’s Tammy”. Tammy was Susan’s porcelain doll. It was her favourite thing in the whole wide world. Tammy used to sit on Katie’s nightstand for safekeeping, but after a nasty encounter with the vacuum cleaner, Tammy cracked her face and lost an eye, and now Katie wouldn’t let Tammy out of her sight. Susan had warned Katie that if she kept Tammy in the bed with her while she slept, she could roll over Tammy and crush her completely, but Katie had made up her mind.

As tired as Susan was just moments before, she suddenly couldn’t sleep. Lying awake with her eyes wide open, the room slowly started to make sense. It was as if a soft moonlight had started to settle in, wrapping every object in the room with its magic midnight cloak. Each item had a new identity, a new colour, and some even new shapes. The longer Susan stared at the furniture in the room, the more alien the items began to look. Susan turned to the other side, away from Katie, hoping that the new position would encourage sleep. Susan forced her eyes closed. Her mind was focusing awfully hard on trying not to focus on anything, when she felt movement on Katie’s side of the bed. It was a soft subtle movement. Susan stayed dead still, not wanting to wake the child if she were merely moving in her sleep.

But then Susan heard movement on the floor – the floor on Katie’s side of the bed. Reaching behind herself with her hand, she felt Katie’s warm little body behind her. Susan realised that she was focusing on every possible movement and night sound that she could; insomnia must be kicking in.

Susan had been lying dead still for quite some time. She had the sensation that her eyes were only closed because she was forcing them closed. As if, if she were to totally relax all the muscles in her face, her eyes would pop open again. As if to prove a point to herself, Susan opened her eyes.

She gasped with fright. Just inches from her face, was Tammy. Cracked faced, one eyed Tammy. The adrenaline pumped through Susan’s blood so fast that she instantly felt lame. Had she not already been in the bed she surly would have collapsed! Susan stared at the doll. She tried to rationalise how the doll could have gotten there. Looking the doll in the eye, she couldn’t help but notice how alive it looked in the moonlit room. Susan blinked, maybe she wasn’t seeing right. Maybe she was imagining that the doll was there. The room was still very dark; maybe there wasn’t anything there at all.

The doll was still there. Susan started to lift her arm out from under the covers, with the intention to reach for the doll, only, when she moved, so did the doll. Tammy started to lift her arm too. Susan froze. She wasn’t sure of what she just saw. Susan could feel her heart beating in her throat. She wasn’t sure if the darkness was playing tricks on her eyes. After a few long moments of nothing, Susan slowly started to pull her arm out from under the covers again. Tammy didn’t move. Susan slowly reached for the doll... Tammy moved so fast that Susan didn’t have time to react. Tammy grabbed Susan’s hand and bit into it. Susan let out a loud scream. Tammy vanished and Katie started to cry. 

Susan put the bedside light on. Katie was holding Tammy tightly, tears streaming from her little cheeks. “Why did you scream mommy?” Katie asked. “Mommy had a bad dream sweetie” Susan couldn’t take her eyes off Tammy, who was unexpectedly... doll like, in Katie’s arms.

“You scared me” Katie said in a sob. Susan wanted to hug her child, comfort her, but at the same time she didn’t want to get close to the doll. She found herself in a bazaar predicament. “I’m sorry sweetheart. Mommy won’t give you a fright again, okay?” Susan got up and walked around to Katie’s side of the bed. She leaned over to kiss Katie on the cheek, and then removed Tammy from her clutches. She ignored Katie’s protests and left the room with the doll. Down the hallway, Susan placed Tammy back on Katie’s nightstand. Susan started to wonder if she was going mad. Tammy was clearly nothing more than a doll. Maybe she had had a dream after all? One thing was for sure though; she wouldn’t be getting any sleep if with Tammy in her bed tonight. 

Susan put the light out in Katie’s room and started to close the door, when she noticed the blood on her hand. Just then Susan’s body went ice cold. She was standing in the doorway, the door half closed. She looked up and straight into the darkness and there in the middle of the room, Tammy stood, staring straight back at her.

Tammy spoke in a deep growling voice; “What’s wrong mommy?”

“Shut the fuck up!” When the doll called her mommy, it angered her. How dare this devil call her mommy?

“Why are you shouting, mommy?” It was as if Tammy’s voice was dropping deeper in pitch.

Tammy started to walk toward the door. Her movements were boxy and unnatural looking. Susan had lost her ability to move. She knew that if she tried, she’d collapse with fear. But that didn’t stop her from shouting at the doll, the demon spawn from hell. When Tammy finally reached the door, she stuck her arms out. “Hold me mommy”. Susan was trying to fight the paralysation with all her might, when she finally launched forward at Tammy and grabbed the doll around the neck. “Please mommy, no, you’re hurting me. You’re hurting me mommy”. Every time the doll called Susan mommy, she tightened her grasp around the doll’s neck, hoping to choke the vocal chords that she knew the doll couldn’t possibly possess. 

Tammy fell silent. Susan closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks as she thanked God that it was over. She started to regain the feeling in her legs. Warmth returned to her body. She was still holding Tammy. Her eyes closed and senses regained, she started to realise how soft Tammy felt in her hands – so opposite from the icy cold, hard porcelain form that she fought so hard to silence just moments before. Tammy, now fearing the worst, tried to find the strength, the courage, to open her eyes.

She looked down at the soft lifeless form in her lap, her hands still wrapped around her neck... It wasn’t Tammy. It was Katie. Susan wasn’t in Katie’s room down the hall. She was in her own bed. Susan started to scream hysterically. It had been nothing more than a night terror... A night terror that now became the worst waking nightmare any mother could ever imagine. 

Mine's better than yours :-P

Firstly, I'd like to apologise for absconding - after returning from holiday, I found that SA had gone back to the dark ages, literally. Simply having electricity at an hour that I'd normally write, has been the challenge. 

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The 2014 Nissan GT R – the Black edition. Quite possibly the sexiest thing alive. Yes, alive – the way that it moves, the way that it roars, the way that it purrs – yes, this car is very much alive.

It’s sexy. It’s alive. And it’s not Peter’s. How absolutely and utterly depressing. Sitting dead still in traffic, in his Hyundai i10, Peter didn’t even have room to hide. Nothing made his car look more like a matchbox than having it sit right next to this beast.

The driver of the beast was an old man with a comb-over and a chunky gold chain around his neck. He looked Peter straight in the eye before revving the machine up like it was ready for takeoff. Just then Peter realised that he had been staring at the vehicle. Turning a lovely shade of red, almost like a tomato just before it reaches the perfect ripened state (you know, that plush red with a tinge of green along the edge) Peter wiped the drool from his chin and shifted into gear. He stalled the car. As if his existence couldn’t be more embarrassing.  The GT R vanished as traffic opened up, releasing Peter from his hypnotic state.

At 35 years of age, Peter felt like he had done well for himself in life, but it wasn’t good enough. He had a good job as an accountant at a large firm, owned a small townhouse, a car, some nice clothes and shoes, a few expensive watches and he enjoyed fine dining. But he wanted an expensive car, a large house and a Rolex. Peter was practically working his fingers to the bone, but these goals always managed to be just out of reach.

He looked around as the agitated motorists passed his stalled vehicle on the main road. Everybody seemed to have a nicer car. Peter just sat for a moment and looked at each driver as they overtook his car. They all looked so proud in their nice cars, noses in the air, disgusted with his cheap little matchbox that couldn’t start. Peter felt ashamed. The shame turned into anger. Soon he’d managed to start his car, but his mind was still stuck on the same destructive path. 

He looked down at himself. He liked the suit he was wearing. He was willing to bet that it was a nicer suit than that of most the motorists with nicer cars. Not because it cost more, but because he had better taste.

Peter started looking at the drivers again, this time focusing on what they were dressed like; their hands on the steering wheel – did they have nice jewellery or watches? Soon Peter’s focus was shifted to the people on the side of the road, marching to their destinations. Everyone appeared to be so well put together. That man had a stylish blazer that he managed to pair well with jeans – Peter bet that he owned a nice car to go with it. That woman had a perfect figure that was complemented by a tailored dress – there was no doubt in Peter’s mind that she was married to a man that provided a large home for her and their kids.

Just then Peter spotted a man that seemed to be rather out of place. Peter’s first instinct was to snicker; the guy clearly didn’t have any fashion sense what-so-ever. His pants were clearly too small; they fit him around the waist, but were too short; his shins were totally exposed. Almost as if this grown man were wearing pants made for a 10 year old. His trainers didn’t match the odd, but formal trousers that he was wearing and even though it was blistering hot outside, they guy was wearing a thick furry jacket.  

Like a brick, it hit Peter – this man didn’t suffer from poor taste in clothing, he was simply poor. The guy was probably wearing whatever he managed to get his hands on. The fact that he had that jacket on in the heat meant that he probably didn’t have a place to keep it. So he was more than likely homeless. The poorly dressed guy most likely didn’t have a job and if he found one, it wouldn’t be one of the highest paying jobs either. He looked awfully skinny too. Peter hit his hazards and called the guy over.

Sipho practically attacked the McDonalds BigMac. Immediately after Peter had invited Sipho into his car, he regretted it; every horror story of every person that was ever robbed and murdered crossed his mind. But once they were in the public take-out place and Sipho started to chat, Peter felt absolutely at ease. Sipho was an intelligent sounding guy, a nice guy. He kept saying “God bless you” and “Thank you” to Peter, ever so grateful for his kindness.

After a good hour or so, and about 5 more burgers, Peter started to feel really guilty. He couldn’t help but wonder what the difference between him and Sipho was. Why did he deserve to have a job, a nice house, his own car and many more luxuries, whereas this man had none? To make matters worse, just a few hours earlier, Peter’s greed had had him fuming with jealousy, and here a man with nothing appeared to be ever so grateful for that which he had received in life, even if it was a hand-me-down that was 3 sizes too small. The fact that someone offered it seemed to be the single act that brought sunshine to this man’s life.

By the end of the day, Peter had welcomed the man into his home, allowed him to clean up in the bathroom and gave him a new set of clothes (and a stylish set at that). Peter made sure that he popped a few notes in the shirt pocket so that Sipho would be able to feed himself till the next nice guy offered a hand out.

Lying in his bed, reflecting on the day, Peter put himself in Sipho’s shoes. Peter was a determined man. He worked very hard to earn a good living, but had he been dealt a different hand, would he still be as successful? Peter was one of 3 kids. Once he got his matric, his dad got him a job in sales. He hated it, but used the money to pay for further studies, which is how he became an accountant. He worked his way into finance, and once confident enough, moved over to a bigger company for a better salary.

Sipho doesn’t know how many siblings he has. He grew up in a shelter. He was abused there, but too young to leave and fend for himself. When he was 11 he ran away. He never received an education. He would get an odd labour job here and there, but nothing that ever lasted long enough to earn a living from. Sipho once asked one of his employers to help him with schooling, but was scolded; “I have my own damn kids to feed. Why in the hell did your mother have you if she couldn’t even afford to look after you?” was the response Sipho got.

Two different men, both hard working, looking to make an honest living for themselves so that they may have better lives – two different hands dealt – two vastly different lives – two different men, yet still, very much the same. 

The call

The phone is ringing; its two o’clock in the morning, why is the phone ringing? Has someone died? Has my brother been arrested again? It can only be bad news. Do I really want to get it? Get the call? Get the bad news? I mean, if I get it, I’ll have to deal with said bad news on some sort of emotional level, which in turn means I’ll have a sleepless night and I have to get up for work at six o’clock. Sigh. But if I don’t get it, I’ll just end up lying awake all night long anyway, wondering what the phone call was all about and conjuring up every possible bad scenario that could result in a 2am call.

It’s Tom, my brother. He is hysterical, which in turn has left me hysterical. I don’t even know why yet, but I feel like I’m about to pass out from the shock. Tom never cries. Never. He just keeps repeating that he has messed up, “...bad this time sis, bad...”

His sobs are violent. I’m scared. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But I listen anyway. He needs me, just like he always has. Someone has to help him pick up the pieces, and that someone has got to be me.

It’s a blistering hot summer’s night. I throw on a tee-shirt and shorts and run out the house. In my hast I’ve completely forgotten to put on a pair of shoes. But that’s of little concern now – I need to get to Tom, fast. It’s dangerous to drive 160km/h, I know; the cops might pull me over and we all know how that plays out, but I have to take the risk. Tom can’t think straight right now. I’m worried about what he might do. He is such a fragile soul. Why can’t people see that he needs to be handled with care? Why can’t someone just love him the way that I do? Accept him for who and what he is?

The lights are on and the door is wide open. He is nowhere to be seen. I told him to lock up and wait for me outside, why can’t he just listen to me for a change?

I park the car and rush inside. It’s a shocking sight. I wasn’t prepared for this; he said he had lost his temper. He said he didn’t mean to hurt her. I anticipated that there was a very good chance that he’d killed her – by accident. I was too scared to ask over the phone. Maybe that’s because I already knew. I thought he might have choked her.  Or pushed her too hard, letting her fall and hit her head. I expected to find her, still, beautiful, warm and in a peaceful sleep on the floor.

The smell has ambushed my empty stomach. I’m left heaving while I try to locate Tom. It’s a vile stench, much like the accidental discovery of a dead pet that had been slowly decomposing in the back yard somewhere while you searched the streets for it in vain. The white bathroom tiles are stained black from the dried up blood. The shoe prints on the floor give me the mental image of slippery sludge – thick blood oozing out of her and covering the floor like a red velvet carpet. The blood might have dried black on the floor, but its bright red in the bath, mixed with water and possibly, vomit. She isn’t beautiful. The sight of her scares me. I’m bound to have nightmares over this – bloated, grey and green, maggots feasting on her eyes. Her lips are missing – she’s so badly decomposed that I can’t tell why, but I have a suspicion; I imagine her saying something – something rather distasteful, difficult to hear. I see Tom grab her head with both his hands, yank her forward, as if to kiss her, only, he bites her. He rips her lips right off her face with his bare teeth.

We have a plan. We pick her up, but she’s so heavy. Her flesh has absorbed a shocking quantity of bathwater. She is heavily swollen. We place her on the black bags that I’ve rolled out on the tiles. I immediately wash my hands but I just can’t seem to get the feeling of squishy dead feet flesh off my palms. Wrapped up tightly, we carry her to my car. It has to be my car. They’ll be searching Tom’s.

We take her to the river; it’s flowing violently. We’ve had a good rain-season. I wonder how far she’ll wash downstream? I wonder if we should just dump her in and wait to see what happens when she is found, or if we should tie rocks around her feet so that she can sink, like they do on TV? She’s so decomposed that she couldn’t possibly be recognised, but police have their way of finding out who the victims are. I hope I didn’t leave any prints on the black bags. I wonder if they will wash off with the strong current.

We decide to burn her. Tom says they’ll find our prints if we don’t. As I watch the shadows dance upon his face, I realise what a monster he is. My own flesh and blood. I can’t believe what he has done, not only to another human being, but  to one he cherished so much. How could he hurt someone he loves like this and only realise what he has done a week later? Maybe... maybe he still hasn’t quite grasped what he has done. Or maybe he knows exactly what he has done. Maybe he is using me to help him cover up his mess!

But am I not a monster too, for standing by his side? For helping him get rid of the evidence? Why didn’t I call the cops? Why won’t I turn him in when all this is done? Why am I consoling him and assuring him that I’ll take care of everything?  That he has nothing to worry about? Because he needs me. Because I am all that he has. I am all that he will ever have and in some sick psychotic way, that’s just the way I like it. I recall the subtle seeds I’ve planted over the last month; “I don’t like her. You don’t need her. She doesn’t really love you. She’s using you”. I even wished her dead. I know that he’ll never hurt me... and that knowledge leaves me with a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I’m the real monster. I started this. I groomed him into the monster that he is today. I am the one that exercises complete control. He is my monster. I control the beast. 

The Black Widow

The chemistry between Michael and Angela was electrifying. Michael couldn’t care less about the neighbours in the elevator; he held Angela up with his right arm – hand firmly gasping her tush – her legs wrapped around his waist - while his left hand pressed into the arch of her back, bringing her closer (if even possible) while they violently sucked, kissed and breathed each other in.

It took them a good twenty minutes to unlock the apartment door. Michael was so distracted that he just couldn’t identify the right key – you see, in order to identify the key, he’d have to look at it.

Once inside, Angela grabbed Michael’s tee shirt at the neck and split it in two, apparently effortlessly ripping it from his body. It was one of Michael’s favourite shirts, but this was hot. He made a mental note to frame what was left of it.

Michael grabbed a fist full of Angela’s hair and pulled her in, kissing her hard, so that she knew what he meant. She bit his lip, softly, but hard enough to make him pause. She stepped back, looked him in the eye, and started to undress. She was exquisite. Angela had long pitch black hair, pale porcelain skin, big blue eyes and pouty lips with healthy flush to them. It was these very same striking features that had caught Michael’s eye just hours before at the bar. He knew then that he wanted to strip her down and have his way with her. But once there, faced with Angela’s naked body, something happened to Michael - it felt a lot like falling in love. Angela was tall and slender, yet “womanly”. She stepped forward, loosened his jeans and gave him a teasing lick before she turned away and headed for his bedroom. Michael followed, naturally.

With her back toward him, Michael stepped closer. He swept her long black hair over her left shoulder, so that he could kiss the right. Angela’s skin was soft and smooth. She smelled sweet and spicy. The combination made his heart race. He traced his fingers down her spine till he reached the small of her back, moving to the side he took a firm hold of her hip, his right hand still holding her right shoulder where he slowly moved his mouth across her delicate skin.  

Angela moved forward, steadying herself into a crawl onto the bed. The curtains weren’t drawn, and through the moonlight Michael noticed large angel wings tattooed on Angela’s back. They started on her shoulder blades and spread across her back, tipping at her hips. Michael wasn’t the tattoo loving type, but on Angela, it was almost expected and added a lot more “naughty” to his experience.

Michael grabbed Angela’s ankle and pulled her back down toward him. She turned on her back, inviting him in. Her kiss was hot, her lips were sweet. Soon he was lost in her spell. The passion was intense, erotic. She’d taken over – a total dominatrix. She was on top, the sweat on her body glistening in the moonlight. Michael was about to – you know – when out of the blue, Angela’s tattoo lifted off of her back and spread across the room, wings spanning from wall to wall. Caught up in the moment, biting on her lower lip and eyes closed, Angela dug her nails into Michael’s chest and ripped into him. Michael let out a shout, but the sight of her majestic wings coupled by the violence only intensified his climax.

They were both spent, sated, dripping in sweat. Angela leaned forward, brushing past Michael’s lips with her own and stopping at his ear. She wanted to say something. He was waiting for it. She was waiting for it. But then she moved back to his mouth, and gave him one final kiss.

Pushing herself up, Angela smoothed her hands over Michael’s face, coming to a rest with both palms over his temples. It was just then, that Michael started to come out of the trance, but before he could speak, a bright light burst from Angela’s palms through Michael’s temples. With nowhere to go, the light came bursting through his eyes, nose and mouth, burning away the sockets and leaving four ashy holes in his head, as black as coal.

Angela got up and walked over to the window. After taking a moment to stare at the night sky, she drew the curtains closed and walked over the en-suite bathroom. Angela flipped the light switch on and came to a standstill in front of the full length mirror. When confronted with her naked reflection, Angela turned her body to analyse her side profile. She lifted her hands and rested them on her belly. She felt movement. Angela smiled.

She rinsed the ash from her hands before changing back into her clothes and leaving Michael’s apartment. In 9 month’s time, Angela would be a proud mommy. She could only hope that her daughter would inherit some of her father’s feisty spirit. 

Tokoloshe

Bongani was delighted. He had wanted a piano ever since he first stepped foot into a white school as a child and heard the sweet sound of music escaping from the school hall, like ancient ancestors that have finally been set free.

After damn near attacking one of the movers for scraping his new baby against the door frame, he finally had it settled in the spare bedroom. It was magnificent. He found it on one of these free classified apps you get. It was an old grand piano, with the most intricate designs carved into the wood. It had huge copper candle chandeliers protruding from the corners of the top, with space for three candles each. It was a little dusty and the chandeliers were covered in cobwebs, but nothing a little polish couldn’t fix. Bongani sat down before the majestic piece of furniture, raised his hands... and then started to play. Oh hell no, he thought to himself. It needed to be tuned too!

That night Bongani struggled to fall asleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about his new treasure. He was planning on searching for a piano tuner first thing in the morning so that he could get it sorted out before Saturday’s family potjie. He wanted to show it off!

Bongani woke up to the soft sound of music notes filling the air. It was so sweet, he could actually see the notes float over his head dripping with honey. At first he thought he was dreaming. After all, he’d been obsessing over the piano for a week. But then he was awake. It was as if someone had thrown ice cold water over his face. The cold spread down his arms and legs. Bongani lived alone. But someone was playing the piano – he could clearly hear it coming from the other side of the house.

Fumbling for his gun, Bongani got up. He slowly and quietly, made his way toward his bedroom door. He didn’t want the intruder to know that he was awake. Bongani took hold of the door handle, and very, very slowly, pulled it down. There was a soft click, as the door handle released the door from the frame. Just then, the music stopped. Bongani broke out into a sweat. The intruder must have heard him. Bongani stood dead still for a while, listing to the sounds of the night, waiting for the intruder to make his next move. But nothing happened. After a good 10 minutes and a near heart failure, Bongani decided that it was time to go and inspect. Just now the intruder decided to take a nap in the spare room? It was not unheard of.

Bongani tip-toed down the passageway toward the spare bedroom. In his mind he pictured the old Pink Panther cartoons, and just like that the theme song was stuck in his head. When he got to the end of the passageway, he saw that the door was wide open – as he had left it. He stepped in. Nothing. There was no one there. Bongani then went on to inspect the rest of the house. After finding absolutely no sign of life, he checked all the windows and the doors. There was definitely no sign of forced entry. Bongani decided to relax and go back to bed. It couldn’t have been anything else but a vivid dream! He checked his phone as he made himself comfortable. It was 03h30 – he had 2 more hours before he had to get up for work.

The grand piano looked immaculate. Bongani had polished it up. He had also arranged for someone to tune it on Friday so that it would be ready by Saturday. He had tried playing it again, but it was so out of tune that his ears bleed. Bongani decided to make it an early night. He was tired after his early morning phantom intruder. As he made his way toward the en-suit shower, he hummed an old familiar song. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it had been on his mind all day long.

Bongani finally got into bed, set his alarm for 05h30 and hit the light. It was a matter of moments, and he was out.

Bongani felt like he’d only just fallen asleep when he woke up again, to the sound of someone playing the damn piano. He shot up and listened. He was wide awake, he was sure of it, and could clearly hear the piano being played. To be sure, Bongani pinched himself. Yes, he was certainly awake. Bongani got up. He didn’t even bother reaching for his gun. This time, he was sure that someone was messing with him on purpose. When Bongani opened his bedroom door, the music stopped. He marched down the passageway and into the spare room. Again, nothing. Bongani searched the whole house and all the doors and windows, and still, no sign of entry. After checking the time and seeing that it was 03h10, he decided to go back to bed. Maybe he was dreaming. After all, the music he woke up to was pitch perfect, unlike his piano.

By morning, Bongani was dog tired. He decided that he’d get some sleeping pills during his lunch time, so that he could ensure at least one good night’s rest for the week.

Bongani woke up. He looked at the time. It was 03h00. He drank the sleeping pills before bed, but still woke up to the sound of the piano being played. Bongani decided to sit up in bed and listen. Listen to how long the piano playing would continue. Listen for the sound of a cracking door or window. Listen for footsteps. Bongani eventually started to dose off. He woke up with a jerk. The piano was still playing. He checked and saw that it was 04h00. The piano had been playing for a full hour. Bongani got up. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, the music stopped. After checking the house and again, seeing that no one was there, he went back to bed.

Again, Bongani was dog tired at work. After discussing the bizarre matter with a co-worker, it was noted that the music always stops playing the moment that Bongani opens his bedroom door. Either this is for the intruder to ensure that he/she has enough time to escape, or, there is some sort of recorder linked to his door. That night Bongani decided to sleep with his door open. That night, Bongani got a decent night’s sleep.

The next day it drove Bongani crazy. He couldn’t figure out how the music, which on previous nights genuinely sounded as though it were coming from his spare room, was somehow linked to his door. It was Thursday already, and by Friday night, the piano would be tuned. He felt as though he needed to solve the mystery before then, as the piano he heard was pitch perfect. After discussing his dilemma with his trusty ol’ co-worker, it was decided that he would hook cameras up in his house to record through the night, like in those horror movies.

Bongani arranged to get off work a little earlier so that he could set the cameras up. He set two up in the passageway, one facing his bedroom door and the other facing the spare room. He also placed one in the spare room with a direct view of the piano.

That night, Bongani struggled to fall asleep again. The anticipation was just too much to bare, but before long, he was out.

True as Bob, Bongani woke up at 03h00 on the dot, with the piano playing. He waited a while – he wanted to ensure that he got as much evidence as possible on the cameras first. He then got up, and walked toward his bedroom door. He slowly lifted his hand, hovering it above the door handle. The music didn’t stop. When he opened the door, the music was gone. Bongani didn’t even bother checking the house. He closed the door and went back to bed, knowing that he would solve the mystery in the morning when he checked the cameras out.

Bongani woke up, dog tired. He grabbed his laptop where the recordings were stored and headed off to work. He had the intention of going through the footage with his co-worker, but it was such a hectic day at the office, that they just never got to it. 

When Bongani finally got home, he sat the laptop down on the kitchen counter and had a look. He forwarded the video to 02h55, as he always woke up at 03h00. 4 minutes and 50 seconds went by with absolutely nothing happening. But then he noticed something happening in the spare room. He minimised the other cameras and opened the spare room camera to full screen. He rewinded it so that he could see it again.

Bongani could feel the blood drain from his face; a little black hand emerged from under the bed in the spare room, shortly followed by another. Finally a little black head popped out. Shining from its eye sockets like burning embers, were two large red eyes. The creature then stood up. It was no taller than a 2l coke bottle. It was grinning; its sharp white teeth stood out in contrast to its ashy black appearance. It then pulled itself up onto the piano stool, and started to play.

Bongani shut the laptop, he didn’t want to see anymore, but it was too late. The lights went out. Bongani pulled his phone out of his pocket to use for light. When he turned the flashlight app on, he saw that it was shining directly in the Tokoloshe’s face! It let out a shrill scream before lunging itself at him. Bongani screamed as he fell to the floor. The Tokoloshe sat on his chest, its face inches from his. Bongani couldn’t move. The little creature was as heavy as an elephant. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the Tokoloshe’s huge red eyes. It was as if the Tokoloshe had hypnotised him. The Tokoloshe then put his lips to Bongani’s and started to suck. A clear white mist escaped Bongani’s mouth and went into the Tokoloshe. Bongani started to panic; he could feel himself lose consciousness. Not in the way one does when falling asleep, but rather, as if his soul were being severed from his body.  Bongani tried to gasp for air, but instead, the Tokoloshe stole his last breath.

It was over. Bongani would not be playing the piano at Saturday's family potjie. No, he'd be joining his family's board of ancestors instead...

Summer madness

It's so ironic how the day that my life changed started out so normally. I think we have this perception that just before the world goes to shit, we'll have some sort of feeling - a bad omen - descend upon us, like a thick cloud of smoke. But no. It didn't happen.

It was a lazy Saturday morning. I woke up, had coffee, ate cereal, checked my Facebook updates - all the normal bull. It was the first decent summer day since winter, so I decided to rub myself in with tanning oil and go catch some vitamin D. Hell I was so white I could give Casper a good run for his money.

The latest boom-boom song was exploding through my earphones, blocking out the world and, oddly enough, sending me to la-la land. I woke up about a half an hour later, don't ask me why. At that moment, for the first time that day, something struck me as odd. I lifted my head and pulled an earplug out. Ja. Ja something was very odd. There was a strange gargling sound coming from the back gate. Now guys and girls, this is the part of the movie where the viewer shouts "RUN", only, this was real life, I wasn't a viewer, and I had no idea what was about to happen.

I got up with great hesitation. I pictured a rabid dog trapped between the bars of the gate - I would approach, and out of sheer madness, it would break free and rip my body limb from limb. When I peeped around the corner, I suddenly felt a hell of a lot better. It was just Jack, the neighbour. He was standing with his back toward me, groaning. I figured he'd accidentally hammered a nail into his thumb or something (Jack had a reputation).

"Jack, it's just you! My heart! What's wrong?" Ha! Jack stopped groaning. For a moment, he was dead silent. Eventually, he turned to face me, slowing figuring out where I was. It was when he had his eyes locked with mine that I noticed that his throat had been ripped out. Now, any normal person would, in this situation, run over and offer medical attention, however, I noticed a strange look in Jack's eye. It scared me, more than the idea that I was watching a man bleed to death. It was more like, watching a dead man, come to life.

It was a matter of a seconds; I turned on my heel and started to sprint into the opposite direction. The gargling sound was right behind me. Within no time, I was at the end of the yard, with no more room to go and I could hear Jack right behind me. I was too scared to look, I didn't have a moment to waste, and if I were going to die, I'd prefer not to see it coming. I jumped and grabbed the 6 foot wall with the tips of my fingers. I don't know where the hell my upper body strength came from but I managed to get myself up. I was just about to be over the wall when Jack grabbed my left foot! He was so quick I just couldn’t avoid it. He bit into my ankle, ripping the tendon right out. Yes, the pain was bad, but instinct took over, and I managed to lift my leg just enough to get a bit of leverage, and then kick down with full force, knocking Jack’s front teeth right out and simultaneously planting his arse into the plush lawn.

I pulled my leg over and landed on the other side of the wall. To my horror, I landed smack-bang in the middle of a scene from The Walking Dead, only, this was real and I as shitting myself. Seriously – I could smell it – nervous poop.

I began to run, but was very quickly reminded that my left foot was out of action. I hobbled so fast that I’m sure I made some sort of Guinness world record! There were deranged people – zombies – popping out of every bush and around every corner, each more mauled up than the next, looking for a quick snack. Fortunately, this snack was a bit quicker than they had anticipated. I made it a good 3 blocks before a car pulled up to me, “Get in!” He didn’t have to ask me twice.

The fucking bastard! I was in the car for all of 3 seconds before he hit the brakes and kicked me out again. Apparently he had an issue with my ankle. I looked down at it. It was nasty. I needed medical attention asap, and if the movies were anything to go by, I was in deep shit. I visualised an axe. It was my only option. I waddled over to the nearest house. With chaos upon us, I didn’t feel the need to get permission or make myself known. I just stormed into the garage and hunted for an axe. I found a panga.

I closed the garage door. I didn’t need some flesh eating bastard coming in here and ruin my survival plan. I turned the light on and sat down for a moment. I was really light headed. With all the action happening so fast, I’d forgotten that I was badly injured and losing a lot of blood. I tried to just relax and catch my breath. My muscles were zinging, my ears were ringing, I felt faint – these could all be symptoms of severe loss of blood. Or shock. Or the zombie transformation. I scrapped that last thought before I could allow myself to really think about it.

It was time, I was frightened by the idea of hacking my own foot off, but more frightened by the idea of losing myself to this animal madness that had taken over. I was on the verge of doing it, so close, when the garage door opened. It was another survivor, obviously looking for shelter. It was rather amazing. I took one look at this person and all I could think about, was flesh. I can’t tell you if it were a man or a woman that entered the garage. I can’t tell you what he or she was wearing, how old they were, or if they even had hair. All I could see was meat. Delicious, juicy meat.

I think that this person did try to talk to me, perhaps even, offer me assistance, since I was the one in need of medical attention, but when the survivor got closer, I stood up on both feet. I no longer felt the pain in my left ankle. In fact, I felt fantastic, and I knew that if I just had a few bites out of this person, just a few little nibbles, I’d recover in no time. I mean hell, just looking at this potential meal made me feel all energised.

I launched myself forward. I was unprepared. This person was faster than me. The panga was confiscated and used against me. I felt myself fall. I rolled a few times, floor, oh look, my headless body, ceiling, garage door. Floor, body, ceiling, garage door. Floor, body, ceiling, garage door.

The garage door opened, I watched my meal leave. I was going to starve to death. How shitty this day had been, all I wanted was a tan, dammit.

Anna's Ghost

Tears were streaming down Anna’s cheek as she marched through the dark. She’d just had a huge fight with her boyfriend and in a fit of rage decided to get out of the car and walk home. Anna just couldn’t believe it when he sped away the moment she slammed the passenger door shut. She knew he could be an arsehole, but she never thought he’d stoop that low!

Going over the events of the evening in her head, Anna decided that this was it. She was NOT taking him back this time, no matter how much he begged. She remembered how angry he got when another boy had asked her to dance. She remembered the sting on her cheek, almost as hot as the sting in her heart, when he slapped her in the parking lot. Yes, there was no way that she was taking him back.

It was a dark, quiet night. Something in the night air gave Anna the chills. It was still a good 5km walk home. The sound of an engine could be heard long before the lights of the car appeared. It was approaching from ahead. Anna just knew it was Mark, no doubt regretting his decision to leave her out here all by herself. On the one hand, she wanted to ignore him and continue marching forward, but on the other hand, she knew that she should probably just get in the car, go home, and deal with him in the morning when she was on safe territory.

The bright lights blinded Anna, so she couldn’t get a look at the car, but it did slow down and come to a stop before her, so it was definitely Mark. Or so she thought.

Anna walked up to the passenger door, when she realised that it wasn’t Mark’s car. Anna gasped with fright and took a step back. A middle aged gentleman stuck his head out; “Need a ride?” Anna didn’t respond. She just had the living daylights scared out of her. “I don’t bite, love. Girl like you shouldn’t be out here all by yourself at night. Get in, let me take you home.” Anna looked at the man. He was well presented, he had a nice car. It was dangerous being out here all by herself and if Mark hadn’t returned yet, he probably wasn’t coming back for her at all.

“Okay, thanks” Anna got in.

“Where to?”

“I live a few streets down, near the mall. I can direct you from the main road?”

“Sure, no problem. So what are you doing out here all by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out on the streets at night?”

“My boyfriend and I got into a fight at the school dance. I told him to take me home, but then he dropped me off here in the middle of nowhere and left.” Anna knew that it wasn’t the full truth – she’d told him to stop and she got out of the car to walk. She shouldn’t be pinning the blame solely on him, but it was too late now, she’d already said it.

“Well that wasn’t very nice of him. What’s your name love?”

“Anna.”

“Nice to meet you Anna, I’m Rick. How old are you? You mentioned that you were at a school dance?”

“Yes, I’m 17. It was the Matric dance. Oh, it’s a left here at the next stop”

At the next stop, Rick didn’t turn left. He went straight over.

“You missed it” Anna said as she turned to look at Rick. He had a stone cold expression on his face and he didn’t respond.

“Rick, you missed the turn off, but you can turn left at the next stop too. Rick, did you hear me?”

“I heard you”.

Again, at the next stop, they just went straight over. It was at about this point that Anna started to feel really uncomfortable.

“You can stop; I’ll just walk from here”

“You can stop whining. We’ll be home soon.”

“Whose home?” Anna didn’t like the way he said it. And she knew it wasn’t her house; he was blatantly ignoring her directions.

Just then Rick reached for something at the side of his seat, then swung over and hit her in the head. Anna was lights out. “That’ll stop your incessant whining.”

Anna woke up. Her head was throbbing. It was pitch black, she couldn’t see anything. There was the familiar stench of a dead animal; the smell was so vial, she gagged a little. Her hands were cuffed around a cold metal pole. Anna got to her feet and tried to slide her hands over the top of the pole, but it continued all the way up, probably to the ceiling. Anna yanked at the pole to see if she could pull it loose. Her cuffs were clinking and clanking against the pole. Just then she heard stomping coming from upstairs “Shut the fuck up girl, or I’ll come down there and shut you up myself”. Anna stopped moving immediately. She was petrified. She didn’t know where she was, or what was going to become of her. She suddenly remembered every story she’d ever seen on the news where women were discovered or rescued from some dodgy guy’s basement after 10 years of rape and torture. Just then and there, Anna decided that she wasn’t going to be another one of those headlines.

Anna sank to her feet. There was clearly nothing she could do. She was stuck here. Anna eventually passed out, probably with a little aid from the concussion, but was plagued with nightmares of Mark, dark streets, strange men, satanic basements and dead cats.

Anna woke up the moment that dawn broke. She couldn’t believe she slept at all. She’d been cold, uncomfortable and kidnapped. Who sleeps in a situation like this? Anna looked around to suss her surroundings. It didn’t take long for her to start screaming like a stuck pig. There were at least 3 corpses that she could see. One was almost completely decomposed, and one was of a girl that must have died in the last week or so – beaten and tortured to death, clearly. Anna saw the man from the night before –Rick – come marching towards her. She started screaming even louder, petrified of the thought of what he might do – he had a metal pole in his left hand. Rick grabbed Anna’s face with his right hand and squeezed so tight that she thought her cheek bones might crush. Rick leaned in nice and close, to the point that she had to squint to focus on his eyes; “Time to teach you how to behave, when you’re in my house, girl”.

Rick took a step back and swung the metal pole at her. The first shot hit her right in the ribs. Anna let out a blood curling scream “the more you scream girl, the more I teach” Rich said as he swung another shot, this one hitting her right on the back. The pain sent shock waves through Anna’s spine, instantly causing numbness in her left foot. It was too painful, how could she not cry out? Rick hit her a third time, this time in the head. Anna’s vision blurred and her ears rang, just before she collapsed to the ground. The blow was, unfortunately, not severe enough to knock her out completely. Anna lay on the ground, a contorted mess of broken bones and blood, gasping for air in between her sobs, trying with all her might to stifle them, but failing miserably.

Rick grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back so that she was forced to look at him. His eyes were glazed over and there was white foam collecting on the corners of his twisted grin. “Look girl, the rules are simple. If you listen, you’ll live, the problem with you girls is always the same; you think someone’s gonna hear you. No one is gonna hear you out here. If we get that one thing straight, we might just be able to get along” Anna could feel her bottom lip start to tremble “please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go?” Ricks eyes rolled back. He let go of her hair and let her head drop to the floor. He walked out of the basement without another word. Once alone, Anna let it all out. She sobbed till nightfall.

Anna had been alone in the dark for hours. The house was dead quite and Anna wasn’t sure if Rick was even still at home. Anna tried to stand up, but her left foot was still numb and pain shot through the rest of her body, so intense that for a moment, Anna thought she stood on a live wire. She must have made a noise, because it was moments later that Rick was back in the basement with her. Anna instinctively started to tremble, a low hum involuntarily creeping from the back of her throat.

Rick didn’t say a word. He also had a mask on – nothing special, just a plain white mask, covering his face, but his presence was unmistakable. He might have felt like a different person, but she knew exactly who he was, and what he was capable of. Rick un-cuffed Anna and picked her up like a child. He took her over to the far corner of the basement. There was a chair next to a basin. Rick seated Anna in the chair and filled the basin. Rick then picked up a remote, and turned on some music; there was a surround sound system hidden in the dark, and from it, played Allan Pettersson’s Concerto per orchestra d’archi n.1. Anna didn’t recognise it, but the dark classical piece made her hair stand on end. Rick started to wipe Anna down with a cloth soaked in warm water. The basin soon appeared to be filled with blood – the water transforming a little more with every dunk of the cloth. Anna wondered how much blood she’d lost – it looked like more than what she’d initially thought.

Rick then took something from the mirror cabinet above the basin and put it down on the basin’s edge – a scalpel. Anna knew that something bad was going to happen, she could feel the impending doom rising from the ground like a vibration of sound, moving through the air and filling the room. Rick turned to reach for something in the draw on his other side. Anna seized the opportunity and grabbed the scalpel. The sudden motion forward coupled by her paralyzed leg and the intense pain slammed her to the floor with bone crushing force. Anna rolled over to her side so that she could see what Rick’s next move would be. So that she could brace herself, and maybe even make use of the scalpel she’d just risked her life for. Rick stood over her. She couldn’t anticipate his next move; she couldn’t read him through the white mask.

Anna found herself hopping along a deserted road in the pitch black dark. She couldn’t piece the final events of the evening together, but that didn’t matter. She’d somehow managed to escape and she needed to get help before Rick came after her. A set of headlights could be seen in the distance. Anna was concerned that it might be Rick coming after her, but logical deduction told her that Rick would probably be coming from behind – where she was running from – and not ahead. Anna desperately started to wave while standing in the middle of the road. The car slammed on its breaks and screeched forward, stopping only inches from Anna’s knees. A young man got out “What the... Are you okay? What the hell happened to you?” Anna just collapsed to the ground, whether from relief, pain, or the adrenalin rush, she couldn’t tell. But then she started to sob uncontrollably. No matter how many times the young man asked, she couldn’t bring herself to calm down enough to answer a single question.

The young man helped Anna into his passenger seat before speeding off towards the nearest hospital. Anna could tell by the look of shock and horror on the man’s face that she must have been in a poor state. Anna looked down at herself; she was wearing her pretty blue dress, the one that she bought just for the dance, but it was covered in blood. Anna’s shoes were missing and her left foot was badly crushed. She could see the bones of each and every toe, exposed. The sight made her think of road-kill. Anna held her hands up and noticed that one of her arms had been severed at the elbow. The realisation sent a shockwave through Anna’s body, followed by the strangest sensation she’d ever felt in her life. It was almost like déjà vu - a suppressed memory, starting to surface. Anna looked up at the young man driving the car. He glanced back at her too. One look at the expression on his face, and Anna suddenly remembered everything. She pulled down the passenger visor to look in the mirror; she had a few strands of hair left on her head. The flesh on her face was rotting away, exposing bone and teeth, and a few maggots. Disheartened, Anna looked back at the young man “I’m sorry” she whispered before disintegrating into the night, right before the young man’s eyes.  

The young man slammed on his breaks once more, the smell of rubber and smoke choking the night air. He searched frantically for the girl that was just there moments before. It was then that he realised who he’d picked up. He just sat there, in shock. After a good 20 minutes, Mark put the car back into gear and pulled away, guilt crushing his chest with every kilometre that he progressed. It was 5 years to this night that he’d left her out here all by herself. At the time he didn’t realise that it would be the last time that he would see her, but by that same token, never had he thought that he’d ever see her again...

Letter to a father

As I sit here, numb with pain, I remember everything; the good and the bad. I find my mind switching from one memory to the next. Oh, how I’ve hurt you. The things I’ve said, the things I’ve done. I disappointed you to the point of severance. Not because you turned me away, but because I was too ashamed to face you, to look you in the eye. Regret is a nasty thing; hell’s torment, an ever-lasting punishment. You know I never meant to hurt you? Funny how we hurt the ones we love the most.

But you hurt me too! You chose her over me. What would mother say? But would you care? You hurt her too. She was dying. You let her die alone. Where were you? Where were you when we needed you most? Where were you when the pain gripped mother so hard she’d wet the bed? Did you love her less when the medicine began to change her? Did the swelling from the cortisone disgust you? She cried me awake most every night – alone, in pain, afraid. Where were you? Loneliness is a killing thing. It sucks the spirit right out of you and then tosses you aside like the worthlessness that you are.

But then I remember how you adored my children. From the moment my first was born, how you’d sneak out the house to come visit, always bearing gifts. Cuddling them, sitting them on your lap, each on a knee, feeding them tales with a handful of sweets; how you walked to school in the snow; your first job; when you lost your fingers to an aeroplane propeller. They’d hang on your lips and soak up everything you said. How my heart would swell with affection to watch you. Love is a wonderful thing. It heals all wounds. It forgives every wrong doing. It forgets.

You were always there for me; every time I messed up, you’d always let me come back home. I’d never stand it for very long because of her, but to know that you invited me into your home, time after time, really meant something. Even so, I think, all I ever wanted was a little recognition. I wanted you to choose me over her. I wanted you to take my side. I wanted you to put her in her place and invite me into your special circle. How I spent my days, imagining how the sunlight bounced off of the skin of the chosen few in that inner circle, longing for that feeling – sunlight – bouncing off my skin. Jealousy is a devilish thing; it turns even the nicest of people into demons. It fills our hearts with hate and vile.

Before I had a chance to really make things right – work my way into your circle, you started to slip away. How my heart ached. You were so close, yet you went a little further every day. I’d run after you, reaching out, calling for you and at first, you’d turn around and see me. You’d come back, and reach for me. But there came a day; you didn’t recognise my voice; you didn’t remember your name. You turned, looked me in the eye, and asked who I was. How my heart split in two. Before I could ever get too close, you slipped away. Day after day, I’d watch, I’d call, but it was in vain. Further and further you’d go, till no longer you were. Disease is a heart-wrenching thing. As it eats away at its victim, so too, it eats away at the world; friendships, relationships, family – chewing away at the cords that bind us together, like a cancer.

Funny how I lost you, all those years ago, yet here I sit today, with the sorrow of a thousand widows hanging on my heart, because you finally broke free. You escaped purgatory. You found freedom. The idea should have me rejoicing, but here I am, tears flowing down my cheeks and breathless jerks stealing my composure. How I loved you my dear father. How I loved you, and you will never know. Knowledge is a strange thing. How do we know when we’re better off with or without it?  I want you to know father.

I want you to know. 

Incy wincy spider

So there I was, just chilling, when this woman walked in on me, and started freaking out and then she tried to murder me!

It started out like every other evening. When it got dark, I decided to find myself a nice spot to spend the night and hopefully catch a few moths. It had been quiet the last few nights and I was starving. After hours of searching, I found a crack in the wall, which lead me to this awesome damp area. And we all know, where there’s moisture, there’s insects. I started to spin my web. I went from one wall to the next, covering the entire corner. It was a masterpiece by the time I had finished, even if I say so myself.

I was nestled in a nice little spot that I’d weaved for myself, kinda like a hammock, recovering from a hard night’s labour, when I felt the first vibration. I froze, to feel again, not really sure if there was really something there, or if it was just a breeze. Nope, there was something there alright. The vibrations started to come violently. I had to make my move before it managed to free itself. I marched over to source of the vibration and found a huge, and I mean, HUGE, moth, flapping about trying frantically to free itself. Fortunately, I’m quite talented in the web making department, and I’d managed to set up a sticky, strong silk trap that was rather capable of securing even the feistiest of meals.

The moth didn’t even see me. It was too busy trying to get lose. I snuck up behind it, raised my fangs high up into the air, like two little steak knives and came trashing down on it like a ton of bricks (okay, more like a gram, but I pack a mean punch okay!). I grabbed the moth with my front legs to secure it, and started rolling it with my hind legs while wrapping it up for later. I couldn’t believe my luck.  A meal this size would easily keep me going for another week!

I barely had a chance to put the moth aside, when this bright light just came out of nowhere. I was momentarily blinded. Never in my life had the sun come up so quickly. By the time my eyes had adjusted, I noticed a human. Jip. This was not good. I like humans about as much as the next species. Something like, 1 out of every 10 spiders that encounter them, actually lives to tell about it. My one boyfriend, Nick, told me all about his encounter with a human, right before I ate him. He said it was the scariest thing he’d ever lived through. He was kidnapped and held captive in a glass prison for what felt like forever. Just when he was beginning to run out of oxygen, the door of the glass prison opened. He started to walk out when the prison tipped upside down and shook violently, causing him to fall out and crash land on some sort of hard rock.

I tried to hide in the deepest corner of my web. The human came closer. A hand came pretty close but then moved away because it suddenly started raining. The human started to shed its skin, then stepped into the rain. The whole area suddenly became extremely wet and slippery and I was starting to fall out of my web. I tried to latch on but it was pointless.  Even my meal had washed away already. I couldn’t believe that I was going to die hungry. My grip was finally lost, and I fell to the floor. I was going to drown. There was water everywhere and the current was inescapable. Just before I was finally washed away for good, I grabbed onto something solid. It was the human’s foot. I ran up with the sole purpose of seeking higher ground. It was at about that this time, that the human finally noticed me.

She pulled her foot up with so much force that I thought I’d start flying. She let out this high pitch shrill that instantly drew blood from my ears. The combination of her flying foot and the sound of hell’s demons breaking lose, left me with no other choice but to bite down so that I could have a better grip. I was so frightened.  If I fell off, this human would step on me for sure. I sunk my mini steak knives into her foot and prayed that the nightmare would stop, but I’m afraid it didn’t.

I was bitch-slapped. When I looked again I was on dry ground, but the human was standing over me with an item, larger than life, smacking down at me. Fortunately this human had pretty poor motor skills, or I’d be as flat as a pancake. I started running for my life when I found a gap in the wall to hide in. The human was still screaming and smacking at the wall with the strange item. I suddenly felt faint. I couldn’t believe that I had managed to escape with my life. Soon the human would lose interest and go away.

I was right, it was much sooner than expected, that the human left. Finally I could breathe a sigh of relief. Just when I was about to leave the gap the human returned!! A different item was in her grasp this time. I retreated back to the gap. It was then that this huge deadly gust of wind and rain came flushing into the wall, knocking me out cold.

I honestly don’t know how I survived or what saved me. I woke up in a narrow tunnel busy drowning. The current was so strong I couldn’t escape. The tunnel finally opened up and the current flung me into the air with a spray of water. I landed in some sort of pond, and there I managed to grab onto something and pull myself to safety. It was a horrific experience. I hope to God that I never see another human again. I don’t even know why God created humans. They’re ugly and scary and serve no real purpose.

I lost two legs in the battle. My stumps are my constant reminder of how fragile life is. Now, I take every moment in. You never know when it’s all gonna end. 

Eater

What a beautiful man she thought, as she stroked his pale white cheek. He was still warm to the touch. Mandy leaned in and kissed his lips, softly - a small peck. She drank in a huge breath of his scent before pulling away and taking one more look at him. Mandy could feel that wicked grin take form on her face. She didn’t feel wicked though, wicked was just the description of the grin. She felt excited. She’d been dreaming about this for years. Mandy leaned in again, smoothed her nose against his chin, slowly making her way up to his cheek, running her tongue over every inch of stubble. She opened her mouth and secured a sizable amount of cheek flesh between her teeth. She was holding it there, literally drooling over him, with anticipation. Pop. It was like, biting into an apple. A crisp pop through the top layer of skin, followed by a soft marshmellow-y-ness underneath.

The distinct taste of metal excited her taste buds as the blood began to trickle. Mandy pulled back and began to chew. She’d eaten raw pork before, simply out of curiosity, fantasising that it was a man. He didn’t quite taste like what she had anticipated, but that was quite okay, as the sheer satisfaction she got from scratching this 12 year itch, made it worth her while. Mandy began to giggle like a school girl, drunk on lust and power. She leaned into him again, this time, without any of the foreplay and took a nice fat chunk out of the other cheek. Pop. As she began to chomp away, she started to laugh hysterically. This was so much better than she’d fantasised about.

Mandy got up. She wanted to get a butcher’s knife from the kitchen. This was her first kill. She didn’t want any of the meat to go to waste. She didn’t know when she’d get another opportunity like this. Mandy exited her garage as fast as possible, trying to open and close the door with lightning speed so that no one would catch a glimpse of the corpse inside. This looked so much easier in the movies. People usually had big properties all to themselves to commit all kinds of mischief on. Mandy had a townhouse. It was tricky, but doable. As she ran over to her front door, she caught a glimpse of herself in the window. She still had that stupid love-struck grin on her face, which on its own would be okay, only hers was covered in blood. She frantically started wiping her face as she ran into the kitchen.

She collected a chopping board, her butcher’s knife and some freezer bags.

“What are you up to?” Pauline asked, with an overly friendly smile on her face but a great confused frown on her forehead. It was Mandy’s neighbour. She’d caught Mandy red handed, leaving the house for the garage with equipment in hand. Shit, Mandy thought to herself; “Oh hi Pauline. I’m... Just making biltong...”

“Oh I didn’t know you made your own biltong?”

“Ja, I normally don’t, but my brother brought me this huge chunk of wildsvleis, so I thought I’d better make the most of it before it goes off, you know?”

“Oh lekker, I hope you plan on sharing!?”

“ha ha, we’ll see if there is any left”

Pauline smiled at Mandy and went back into her house. Mandy felt like she could hardly move. The adrenaline had just kicked her so hard that she felt like she was about to pass out. Pauline can thank her lucky stars, she thought to herself. She had no desire to eat a woman, but if she happened to kill one, well then, there’d be no point in letting her go to waste now would there?

Back in the garage, Mandy began to undress the beautiful man. When she removed his shirt she realised that she’d made quite a mess of things when she had killed him. It was a pity as she could have used some of that meat. She’d just have to find another way the next time that she did it. It was very important that she didn’t ruin his head or his face though, because it was the cheeks that she’d been fantasising about all these years. 

Naked and stretched out, with his right arm over the chopping board, Mandy took a swing with the butcher’s knife.

There was blood everywhere. Mandy had been chopping at him all afternoon, but a simple domestic butcher’s knife was no match for human bones. It was such a mess. Mandy started to feel a little sad. She had started with this project with such great expectations and then she went and ruined everything with her lack of experience. She curled up into a ball and held her knees together, wondering what to do. There was no turning back now. If she couldn’t manage to cut the body into bits with bones and all, she’d have to somehow strip the meat from the bones. Mandy started with the hacked up arm. She dug the knife in till it reached the bone, then scrapped the knife downward, along the bone, slowly lifting the flesh off. It was a hefty task that took her till midnight to complete.

The alarm went off at 5am on Sunday morning. Mandy had managed to refrigerate most of the meat during the early hours of the morning, but she’d have to make a plan with the internal organs and bones that lay scattered on her garage floor. Mandy put on her tracksuit and made herself useful. While staring at the mess in the garage, she was hit with an amazing brain wave. Mandy gathered up the leftover organs and carried them into the backyard. She discarded the lot into the braai. She then went back for the bones.

With an early morning fire crackling in the back yard, Mandy began to reflect on her weekend activities: As happy as she was, finally fulfilling her lifelong fantasy and all, Mandy couldn’t help but wonder if she’d miss her brother at all. Ohhh I wonder if I still have marshmallows!

Author's note: A special thank you to Patrick B Vince for sparking the idea for this story!

A moment of insanity

I can’t fathom what is happening here. I simply don’t understand how I even got here. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been successful and that meant I always got what I wanted. I’ve always been the best at everything; the fastest runner, the smartest kid in class, the young successful business man that all the women swoon over. So what the hell is this? I thought Candice invited me over for dinner. Why are we sitting on the couch like this? I feel like I should engage in this “conversation” and change its direction, but the moment I heard “It’s just not working out”, my ears started to ring, I started to feel light headed and at this very moment, I actually feel like I’m starting to see white! She’s still sitting there, making all these overly expressive hand movements to accompany her flapping lips, only I don’t hear anything but the deafening ring that started earlier.

 I stare blankly at her, sweat dripping from my forehead, when I notice her beautiful legs. She’s wearing that tight black pencil skirt I like, cut just below the knee, with a pair of FM pumps. Her legs look so smooth, like she had them waxed today... Why is she wearing this? What kind of message is she trying to get across? I can feel the frown starting to take form on my forehead. I look back at her face; she’s still talking. She’s really beautiful. That’s why I picked her to begin with. It wasn’t meant to be anything serious, but if anyone was going to be walking out of this relationship, it was going to be me. I’m the boss here. Not her. I don’t know who the hell she thinks she is, but I’m going to have to set her straight. Sure, you think you’re pretty now, but who do you think will want you if you didn’t look like that eh?

I get up; every muscle in my body is zinging. I feel like I’m going to burst out of my suit any minute and turn into The Hulk. Candice is standing too now. Her lips aren’t flapping anymore; she’s just staring at me. She looks confused. She’s confused? How the hell does she think I feel? I’ve always been the one in control. Does she have any idea how it feels to have that taken away? Like some silly little woman has the goddamned mentality to even know what the fuck she wants?

I storm over to the door with every intention to just leave because I can’t take this, but the door is on the other side of the kitchen, and I’ve just spotted something on the kitchen counter that stopped me dead in me tracks. It’s like... It’s like something’s come over me. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t have any emotions right now – I’m not even angry anymore. I don’t have any intentions. I don’t have any plans. I’ll just take it as it comes.

I reach for the counter and pick it up – the object that prevented me from leaving her house. I hold it with both hands, and see the emptiness in my eyes, in its reflection. Looking up, to meet her stare, I see that Candice, who had followed me this far, looks like she’s just seen a ghost. I’ve never seen the look of fear in her eyes before, but it’s just ignited this strange sensation of power within me. I don’t know why the idea that I have caused fear would have such an exhilarating effect on me. Maybe it’s  just because it’s the polar opposite of the feelings she extracted from me a few moments ago in her rejection? Without taking the time to think about this, or to rationalise my emotions, I lunge forward. She looked so much like a frightened cat that I knew that I had to grab hold of her on the first try, or she’d get away.

It’s as if I’ve just come to. But I remember everything. Every part of me that died on Candice’s couch this afternoon, just came to life. I’m sitting on the kitchen floor – I think I sank into this position when my legs started to go numb. I look at the deep red fluid covering the floor and for whatever reason, swish my hands through it – to feel the wet sticky texture, to break the mirrored smoothness of its surface, to make sure it’s real. Lifting my hand to get a good look at my blood soaked palm, I start to cry. Oh god this is real. What have I done? I reach for Candice and pull her limp mutilated body into my lap. Her eyes are still open. That look of fear and shock that just moments ago, invoked the demon in me, now has my stomach turning. I lean a little to my right and start to puke violently. I feel guilt like no one has ever experienced it in their lives. It’s a heaviness, like an elephant, sitting on your chest. I look at Candice again and close her eyes. I will never be able to take away her last memory of me. I will never be able to undo what has happened. She will move on, to where ever the fuck we go, and I will be known – to her at least – as the devil that sent her there. That idea alone enrages me all over again. I grab the knife, still next to me, and pluck out her eyeballs. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but somehow it makes sense to me. In one of the drawers, Candice keeps resealable freezer bags. It would work perfectly to transport a pair of ice blue eyes.

I don’t know what I’m going to do, I’m kinda just winging it as I go along. The house has been cleaned up with bleach, I’ve burnt my clothes, put on a clean change of clothes, and Candice is wrapped in a blanket and cling wrap, and stuffed in my boot. Dead bodies are surprisingly heavy. It’s not like I haven’t picked Candice up in the past, but dying apparently added 50 kilos. I had to completely remove myself from the situation, in order to get it together. Even now as I’m driving to god knows where with a body in my boot, I feel like a removed entity, looking at myself through a glass panel.

The first thing I do when I get home is have myself a drink. I’d been driving around for hours but it was all in vain. As I sit here at my desk, bottle in hand, she lay in the boot of my car, wrapped in blankets and plastic. I reach in my trouser pocket and retrieve the reasealable freezer bag. Staring at the contents of the bag has put me in a zoned out state. It took quite some time, but when I finally snapped out of it, it was because I’d somehow come to a decision to make things right.

I put the, now empty, bottle of whiskey down on the desk, and open the draw. There lay my gun. It should be in a safe. But I liked to keep it here. I liked to be able to pick it up every now and then, feel its weight in my hand, and imagine its destructive capabilities. It’s loaded. I made a point to keep it loaded at all times – in case. Looking dead ahead, I lift the gun to my right temple. I subconsciously squeeze the freezer bag in my left hand, because I’m a coward searching for the guts to do this, when I feel the sensation of a pop. I don’t even have to look to know, but it was enough. Popping Candice’s eyeball in my hand was enough of a reality check to get me to do the deed. Click. 

Window to the soul

When I'm not thinking up crap or procrastinating, I draw. How about a personalised illustration for every story I post?

The flats in the clouds

I’m going to tell you a story. A story about a strange adventure I once had. Take a moment to cast all disbelief and doubt from your mind, and let me share this unique experience with you. It happened one cold winter’s night, many, many years ago:

I came to, head spinning and stomach turned upside down. It took a few seconds for my eyes to register my surroundings; it was pitch black, no lights were on. How did I get here? All that I could recall was lots of alcohol and dancing with my boyfriend and the gang... and that was pretty much it. So I must have passed out. I sat up, but it was just too much for my stomach to handle. I leaned over to the side and proceeded to puke my guts out. I vomited to that point where all you taste bile - how utterly disgusting, I know. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and tried to get up once more. My head protested, and when my stomach started to convulse once more, I decided that it might be safer to just lie back down on the couch and let another hour or so pass. I fell asleep, dreaming of orange juice flowing from one Royal Albert tea cup into the next, right above my head. I was waiting for it to spill over into my dry mouth, but every time, just before the orange juice could touch my lips, another tea cup would appear and the orange juice would pour into it. All I could do was watch the delicious, cold, wet orange juice flow, while I died of the thirst.

I woke up once more, feeling a lot better. It felt like a few hours had passed, but it was still pretty dark. I got up, still not feeling so hot and tried to make my way to a wall to feel for a light switch. On my way over I hit an object so hard with my shin, that I concluded that it couldn't possibly be made from an element of this earth. I let out a yelp as I tumbled forward, landing face first on the icy cold tiles. I laid there for a few seconds, softly mumbling/crying to myself, wishing someone would make the pain go away. I soon realized that it was very quiet, like, my mumbling was actually echoing back at me. I quieted down and listened, and it was too quiet. I got up and marched over to the wall, my hands flat against it searching for a light switch. When I found it I flipped it on, instantly blinding myself. I turned around to see the room through my squinted eyes. I was all alone apparently and I didn't recognise the place. I didn’t know how I’d gotten there or where Jake – my boyfriend – and the rest of the group were.

When I opened the front door, I noticed that I had been in a flat all along. I was on the top floor, it looked like it was about 4 stories high, and this flat was at the very end of the corridor. I started walking down the corridor, looking for a flight of stairs or a lift so that I could get to the parking lot and see if I could find Jake’s car. It was dark and cold, and eerily quiet. The corridor also seemed unusually long.

I was about half way through when I started to hear music – someone was playing the piano. It sounded like Lisa se klavier, but without Koos Kombuis’ voice or lyrics. I realised that the music was coming from the very next flat. When I passed it, the door was slightly ajar. I stopped. I took two steps back, and pushed the door open, very slowly. I suppose I was hoping to find someone whose phone I could borrow – because that would be the logical thing to do in that situation, but what I found, was very, very different. The layout of the flat was a carbon copy of the flat I’d woken up in. I stepped in through the front door into the open plan kitchen and living room area. There was a single floor lamp on in the far corner of the living room. Something about the warm glow of the light and the light sound of the piano sucked me right into the living room. At the far end of the room, was a door that opened up onto a balcony. The music was coming from there. I walked over the door and peeked out to see who was on the balcony. I cannot describe my reaction to what I saw. It was too awesome to express in mere words, but what I can tell you is what I witnessed in that flat that night; the balcony of that very ordinary flat, was carpeted with plush red fabric. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung low from the ceiling, casting bursts of moonlight into every direction. A small marble table was set at my end, with a bottle of champagne and one empty glass. But what was most striking about this extraordinary balcony, attached to this super ordinary flat, was on the other end of the balcony; a huge cream grand piano... and an English Bulldog, sitting on a piano stool, and a few pillows, playing Lisa se klavier.

“Help yourself to the champagne” the dog said, in a perfect English accent. I don’t think I moved or responded because the dog soon spoke again, “I’m afraid I am bound to this chair till 03h00, so you’ll have to pour your own champagne”. I was rather hung over and thirsty. If I couldn’t have orange juice, champagne would have to do. I popped the cork and champagne came bursting out. I stood there in a moment of shock before pouring the champagne. I took my first sip. I felt like my head was floating in the clouds. Everything just felt so unreal. I kept closing my eyes and reopening them thinking that the dog would disappear and my vision would adjust to something plausible. I wanted to ask the dog something, but I wasn’t sure what to ask. If I’d met an ordinary talking dog that could play piano, I might ask him how it was possible, but this was a posh dog. This dog had class. I might say something that would offend him, or worse yet, I might say something that would make me sound utterly unworldly. Like, where have I been the past ten years while the world embraced this snobby, talking, piano playing English Bulldog with a proper English accent? “So, what’s your name?” I finally managed. “Butch” he said. “hmmm, where are we, Butch?” I asked. With a name like Butch, I figured anything goes as far as questions are concerned. “We’re on my balcony” he answered, completely nonchalant. “Your boyfriend is downstairs though” he said. Just like that I was pulled back to reality and realised that this craziness started out with me looking for Jake. “What? What are you talking about? How do you know he’s downstairs?” It was as if I’d completely forgotten that Butch was a dog, and not a human. “He passed by here about an hour ago and there is but only one way to go, down”. I placed the glass of champagne back down on the marble table and ran out of the flat. When I got back to the corridor, the icy cold winter air hit me again. I hadn’t realised how cold it was while basking in the warm glow of the magical flat. I wrapped my arms around myself and marched towards the stairs.

I’d gone down two flights of stairs when I heard Jake call my name. It was coming from the top, so I figured that he was on the 3rd floor. I ran back up and into the corridor of the 3rd floor. It was pitch black. “Jake” I called out. I heard the distinct creak of a door toward the end of the corridor. I ran over. The door of the second last flat was open, but the security gate was locked. I wrapped my fingers around the bars and pressed my face through them, “Jake, are you in here” I whispered. I heard footsteps. Someone was coming to see who was at their door. Low and behold, a six foot clown appeared from around the corner. He had a huge-ass red nose, typical clown makeup and green hair on either side of his head. His forehead went on forever since he had a huge bald patch on the top of his head, which he hadn’t neglected when he painted his face. He was wearing a multicoloured clown onesie with giant black shoes. He smiled at me, “Hello, are you here for the party?” he asked, “ah... no, I’m looking for my boyfriend, Jake. Have you seen a young guy wandering around here?” “Maybe, did he come for the party?” Gee wiz, this clown was desperate for party guests. “No, he didn’t come for the party. Never mind” I said as I released my grip from the gate. I was about to walk away, when the clown spoke again, “Well if you’re not here for the party, what are you here for?” “Don’t worry, I’m sorry for bothering you, you have a good evening”, I turned around and started to walk back to the stairwell. I heard the security gate unlock behind me. I didn’t want to turn around; the idea of a creepy clown following me down the corridor in the darkest hours of the morning was more than a little unnerving. But then I heard “fetch her spike”.

Now well, I couldn’t exactly ignore that, could I? I turned to see who Spike was. Oh my fucking word. Spike was a Doberman with its skin on inside out and all four of its legs facing backwards. Spikes lips were curled backwards with his razor sharp teeth exposed and he was coming for me. I started to sprint as fast as I could, but the further I ran, the longer the corridor got. Spike soon caught up with me and it was then that I started to scream for help, hoping to wake one of the residents up so that I could find shelter in their flat. Spike lunged forward into my back, pushing me to the floor and ripping a chunk of flesh from my back with his razor sharp teeth. I started to scream hysterically. The very next flat door swung open and an old lady stepped out with a shotgun “Tell that fucking mutt to stand down or I’ll blow his brains out” she shouted. The clown whistled and Spike immediately recoiled. I started to cry, from shock I think. The old lady told me to get up before Bozo the clown let his mutt out again. I got up and walked over to the bad-ass old woman. “Let me take a look at that. Yep, it’s bad. You’re gonna have to go see the doc about that before you bleed to death” “The doc?” I asked. “Yeah, he’s on the second floor. He’ll stitch that right up, tell him Rose sent ya. Go on, before you faint from loss of blood”.

When I reached the second floor, I realised that I’d been in so much shock, that I’d forgotten to ask the little old lady what number the doc was at. I contemplated going back up, but I had the good sense to stay on the second floor. I’d rather have woken every person on that second floor than go back up there.

I knocked on the first door. It was as good a place as any to start looking for the doc, right? At the very least, I’d ask the person that opened the door, if they knew which number the doc stayed at. The door opened, but no one was there. This flat didn’t have a security gate on it. “Hello” the moment the word came out I recalled that this was exactly how the clown incident had started out. “Come in” I heard, from somewhere deep in the dark flat. “I’m looking for the doc, can you tell me which number he’s at?” I really didn’t want to go inside. This flat gave me the creeps. “I’m the doc, love. Come in; let me see if I can assist you”. Oh shit! I stepped in rather reluctantly. What were my options? Staying out here and bleeding to death? I walked down the passageway of the little flat, there were two rooms on the right, one on the left and one straight ahead. “Where are you?” I asked, not wanting to barge into the wrong room. “Here” he said. I could clearly hear that he was in the room straight ahead. I made my way towards him, nice and slow. I stepped into the room. The room was red – not like, the walls were painted red, I mean, the room had a red glow to it, but it was still dark. I could see the back of a man, wearing a white coat and leaning over a dissecting table. It was dark and with him in the way, I couldn’t quite see what he was doing. He was working with great care, whatever it was that he was doing. He extended his right hand and reached for a drill that was on the operating tray next to him. A drill??“ What can I do you for?” He asked. “Um... I was bitten, by a dog. I think I may be bleeding to death”. The doc stopped what he was doing and spun around. He was a frail looking little man. His eyes shone overly bright in the dark room. He smiled at me, “Bleeding to death hey? God knows I like the sound of that” He stood up and started to walk over to me. I then spotted what he’d been doing. He was dissecting one of my friends! Casey was stripped naked and her chest was split at the middle, the skin nicely removed and flapped over the sides of her chest like wings, to expose her ribs and internal organs. “Trusty old Rose, always sending me a new toy when my old one breaks” the doc said, lifting his hand and smoothing a bloody scalpel down the side of my cheek. It was in that instant that I decided that I was not bleeding to death, but rather, that I would be bleeding to death very soon, if I didn’t make a run for it.

I stormed out the flat and towards the stairwell, only, the stairwell was no longer there. It was a dead end. I turned on my heel; the doc was standing in front of his flat, smiling at me. I pushed past him with so much force that he fell to the floor. He let out a cry. I turned to look and saw that he’d fallen into his own scalpel; it was sticking into his ribcage. I decided that it still wasn’t safe, and if I were to live through this night, I couldn’t stop running. There was a stairwell on the other end of the corridor. I ran down the stairwell as fast as my legs to carry me. When I got the first floor, the stairwell stopped, which meant, it probably continued on the other end of the corridor. I started running towards the other end of the corridor when I passed an open flat. Something in that flat caught my eye and brought me to an abrupt stop.

I stood still for a moment, trying both to catch my breath and to calm my racing heart. When I felt like I’d managed to compose myself, I turned around and stood in front of the open flat. Again, let me remind you that it was the darkest hours of the early morning. But a twinkle of light shone from the kitchen counter of this flat. It looked like every other flat I’d just been in, but there was a single item on the kitchen counter that separated this flat from the rest; an egg - a golden egg the size of a chicken’s egg. It radiated light. Other than the glowing egg, all the lights appeared to be off. I wondered if anyone was home (or awake). I took a step inside. I didn’t want to, but I felt like I was gravitating toward the egg. No one jumped of a dark corner with an axe. Nothing grabbed me by the ankles to drag me across the floor. So it must be safe, I figured. I walked up to the egg. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I picked it up and held it between my palms. It was warm and buzzing. I sniffed the egg (don’t ask me why), and it smelled of candy. I was still busy losing myself in the egg’s charm, when the buzz turned into a crack. I got such a shock that I immediately returned the egg to the counter and took a few steps back. Slowly, the egg started to hatch. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it; what would come out? A dragon? A phoenix? A magical goose? But then, when the creature inside revealed itself, my heart came to a standstill.

There stood Jake, in all his glory; naked and shining like a mini Greek god. “Jake?” I fell to my knees and covered my mouth with my hands. “What’s wrong?” he asked. I didn’t know where to begin. How? What happened? “You’re... You’re so... small” I could hear the tremor in my own voice. “Gee thanks babe, that’s exactly what a guy wants to hear when the takes his pants off” – I thought he was making a joke. Making light of the situation. “Are you okay?” He asked, holding out his hand. I stood up and walked over to the counter, he was holding an odd looking brown mushroom, “They really mess you up huh?” I didn’t know what he was talking about. “It’s been hours, are you still trippin’?” he pressed. “I don’t know what you mean” I confessed. Jake started to laugh. The more he laughed, the harder he laughed, and the harder he laughed, the more he grew, till he was his fully grown self again. I started to cry. All of this, everything that had happened, was just too much to handle. Jake reached out and pulled me into his embrace. “Don’t worry, it’ll soon be over. Next time we’ll just use oyster mushrooms in our Linguine hey?”

I woke up with the bright sun shining in my face. I was in on the kitchen floor next to Jake. When I sat up I noticed that I had vomit on my shirt. Jake groaned next to me. “Hey! Hey Jake” I was shaking him, trying to get him to wake up. “I’m awake” he said. “Why did we sleep in the kitchen?” I asked. “I found you here last night. You were standing in front of the egg tray, crying for me. I couldn’t get you to move, so I just held you here until you tired out.” “Really?” I was quite amazed. I remembered things a little differently. “I think my ‘shroom was laced with acid” I said. I lay back down on the kitchen floor and closed my eyes. It felt like I hadn’t slept in days. I thought back to the night before and the series of events that followed – in my mind anyway. “Did I leave the house at all?” “No, we were here all night.” Jake started to get up “Come, let’s go to bed”.

I held out my hand so that Jake could help me up. My whole body felt like it was buzzing. An old photo of my grandparents caught my eye in the passageway. In the room, I noticed that my porcelain clown had fallen off my dressing table and was lying on the floor, in my Doberman pinscher’s bed. Spike seemed pretty pleased; he had the clown’s head between his paws, licking its face like it was a lollipop. I undressed, happy to be vomit-free and then cuddled up to Jake. “I wonder where the English bulldog came from.” I thought aloud. “Huh?” Jake didn’t know what I was on about. “Never mind” I said, as I dosed off to never-never land once again.

Author’s note: this is a fictional story. I have never taken magic mushrooms and do not know what the effects are. This story was inspired by a weird-ass dream I had.