Twisted: Tales to Rot Your Brain Vol. 1

by Nora Thompson

  Why resist? Don’t be yelly

  We must remove the smelly jelly

  before we add you to the list

  of Dominic’s Exotic Full Belly Deli.

  Full Moon

  I sense you there, in the shadows, hiding. From what? From me? Poor boy. Your situation has little to do with me or my current state. These events would occur even in my absence, although I do enjoy the show. I watch you on these nights, the unbearable agony of your transformations. You curse me, as if I have a stake in your dilemma. Although I only observe you from a distance, I’m well aware of your misdeeds, you and your kind. I witness your hunger and the crimes committed to satisfy it.

  Others know as well. They’re coming after you, and they’ll find you. They seem to always find you. And yet you hide, prolonging the inevitable. Their fires burn brightly, even from this distance. They burn with anger and fear. Nothing burns brighter than fear. Yours is burning even now. They can’t see it yet, but it’s there. It’s how they’ll find you.

  Their fires move briskly through the leafless woods, dogs ahead, sniffing, running, panting. Just like you. You’re more like the dogs now than the humans, although fear runs the same through all the beasts.

  Your running slows despite your distressed efforts against it. Your feet are bare and dry leaves crackle with every heavy lunge. Still, they’re closing in. You can feel their hatred burning down the woods behind you.

  Within minutes they’re upon you. You dare to turn and steal one last look, throw one last slash into the air as they take you down.

  A man shouts panicked orders. Dogs bark, yelp, and then back away. The man raises his arm. One silver bullet sinks leisurely into your brain, but not before you defiantly sink your teeth through the flesh of the man barking the orders.

  They gather around your shrinking body, hushed. The dogs brave the threat and sniff your face, your bloody skin. Attention turns gradually to the man pressing his side, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. He looks up and begs for help, stretching a bloody hand toward his comrades who instead retreat in horror. A man at the heart of the commotion motions the others aside and they instinctively obey.

  Slowly, he raises his weapon. He aims.

  One more silver bullet. It sinks slowly. Even more slowly through the brain of your father than it did through yours.

  Do you still blame me? I wonder if your father blames me.

  They stand momentarily over father and son until a wolf’s distant howl breaks the moment. They leave both of you to stare, unblinking, at a full, silent moon.

  They call the dogs from lingering too long.

  Doc Chocolate

  Patients are like a box of chocolates: you never know what you’re gonna get. Also, they ooze when they break open, so you have to be careful when you lick your fingers.

  Three Strange Days

  Things have been a bit strange for the last few days. First, I really haven’t slept much. Well, now that I think about it, I haven’t really slept at all. And somehow I got here in this place, and I’m having a heck of a time trying to retrace my steps. How was it that I got here again? I walked here from—no, actually I think somebody drove me here. Man! I need some sleep! I think I do remember them driving me here, but I’m not sure why they did that without asking me first. Did I tell them I wanted a ride? I don’t think I even knew those guys. But the ride was first-class. Black limo. Stretch, I think. Well. It was black, I’m pretty sure. And it was longer than other cars I’ve been in, so maybe a stretch. But I’m not sure I really wanted to go, now that I think about it. Did they force me into that freakin’ car? No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that radical. I think I just didn’t want to go with them. I must have wanted to stay somewhere. With friends, I think. Oh, yeah! The friends thing! And there was a bunch of family there, too. It must have been a great party or something. Yeah! That’s right! It was a party for me! No wonder I haven’t been able to get any sleep. That thing went on for, like, days! People were in and out constantly. Stopping to see me, talking to each other. It must have been my birthday, I think. Maybe my birthday. I don’t know. Maybe not. A bunch of people even sent me some flowers. Not exactly what I would have asked for personally, but they were family so, you know. What can you do. And I was dressed a little stiffer than I would have preferred, but again, family involved, so…Now that I think about it, I didn’t actually pick out the clothes. Don’t remember who did, either. But the guy who did the fitting was a little weird. He was really into the poking and prodding stuff. I don’t think clothes fittings were really his specialty though, from the looks of the place. Looked more like chemistry class, if you ask me. Remind me never to go back to that guy. Sheesh! I didn’t even know him all that well, and I’m not entirely sure who sent me to him—oh, wait. There were these other people I got to know really well. They were the ones who sent me there. That’s right. But before they did, we hung out together for a while. What an awesome place they had! Anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask. Well, I never really had to ask. They were terribly excited to do stuff for me without me even asking! We hung together, but not too, too long. They seemed to be losing interest in me by the end, but when I first got there they were really excited to see me! And the people who brought me there in the first place were crazy that way, too. What more could you ask for? Those people did seem in a hurry to drop me off though, so I guess they worked extra quickly to pay me all that attention before then. That’s fine. I don’t really mind. The ride in their van was pretty exciting, so that kind of made up for the shortness of the whole relationship we had going. When they first picked me up, I wasn’t really sure what to expect, the way they were looking at me and trying to calm me down, as if they thought I needed that for some reason. And, well, I guess I did kind of need that considering all the blood everywhere. They didn’t seem to mind all the blood, but I think they must have thought I did. Oh! Maybe that’s what I felt that was so warm on my face! It was just the blood. Silly me. With all this excitement, is it any wonder I’m having so much trouble sleeping? Even after they’ve given me this soft, cozy bed. I guess maybe it’s a little smallish, maybe a little too cozy. That could be the problem right there. But this place seems peaceful enough. Really quiet. Not a living soul around. And look! They dug this spot fresh just for me! I think it’s time I should be catching up on a few zzzs, if you know what I mean. See you around.

  You Know What Else Children Don’t Know?

  Chapter 3:

  The Things Children Do Not Know

  You could fill a book with the things children don’t know, but the topic will be addressed in this chapter only. Please refer to the late Edward Thomas’ adolescent treatise The Things They Aren’t Telling Us for a more in-depth examination.

  Many aspects of the adult world remain a mystery to a child. Children slog through their days ignorant of even the possibility of the existence of an unknown, and remain happy to do so (See Fig. 3.1). They don’t know certain things because adults do know these things, and adults own the world.

  Fig. 3.1 See? Children are blissfully ignorant.

  That’s rule #1. That adults own the world. Rule #2 is that adults know things and children do not. As an addendum, Rule #3 was added in the late 13th century to clarify for those who could not connect the dots: Adults do not share the things they know with the children who, by default, do not know.

  The Rules:

  1. Adults own the world

  2. Adults know stuff, and kids don’t

  3. Adults aren’t sharing

  Those are the rules. Those have been the rules for thousands of years. Evolution created the rules. No amount of information sharing can change the rules. Children have tried, but those children no longer exist.

  (Please see Rule #1 and the essay, How Edward Thomas Almost Changed the World, now available in paperback.)

  Please note: it is widely agreed that parents fall under the category of “adults,” and therefore adhere to the rules of that catego
ry. These two terms will be used interchangeably throughout this chapter.

  Something children do not know

  Something the first:

  Why parents put their kids to bed.

  Putting someone somewhere should be a red flag, but red flags are not something that children know. When you put something, it’s a thing. It’s put-able. It does not have the ability or the wherewithal to put itself, so someone needs to do the putting for it. And so, adults put, and children are put.

  Once children are put and en route to a dream state, they are generally considered taken care of. Doors must be closed at this time to avoid confusion and questioning by the child at a later date (See Fig. 3.2). If the child inadvertently witnesses things they do not know, the child must be dealt with without delay. (Please see Appendix D for information on “Utilizing Closet and Under-bed Monsters,” “Chasing Children” and “Inventing Believable Monster Explanations on the Spot.”)

  Fig. 3.2 Unacceptable door gap

  Something else children do not know

  Something the second:

  What is really under the bed.

  Closet and under-bed monsters must be confined to their working areas in order for parental units to maintain credibility (See Fig. 3.3). A parent who has lost credibility has lost authority, which violates Rule #1. In the case of a Rule #1 violation, a child shall be held accountable and their punishment swift.

  Fig. 3.3 Eating facilities are generally not considered acceptable as part of a designated work area.

  Monsters observed outside their work zones could lead to disbelief of parental monsterial explanations and, in turn, an inquiring child. Inquiring children shall be promptly tortured. (Please see Appendix B, “Are We There Yet?”)

  Handy Hint

  Monsters need a healthy working environment, so avoid unnecessary vacuuming or cleaning in designated work areas.

  You know what else children do not know?

  Something the third:

  What parents really are when they remove their parent suits.

  What happens to a parent after a child has been put to bed? Do canines grow?

  Maybe. But children will never know.

  Does wooly hair sprout from their skin?

  Maybe. But children will never know.

  (Please refer to the “Handy Hints” in Chapter 5, “How to avoid body dandruff,” if you find you are prone to such things.)

  Are they attracted to the smell of clean skin and warm milk breath?

  Maybe. But, again, children will never know.

  Remember, only adults know what’s beneath a parent suit, as dictated by Rule #2.

  Adults must appreciate that, when removing parental suits, children should be confined to areas unavailable for viewing removals (See Figs. 3.2 and 3.4). Children observing parental suit removal are violating both Rule #2 and Rule #3 and must be tortured (please see Appendix B). If bogus parental rationalization and customary torture procedures fail to appease the child, or in the case of chronic witnessing, immediate termination is in order. (Please see Appendix M: “Feeding Your Monster” and Appendix N: “Feeding Your Monster Within.”)

  Fig. 3.4 Chronic witnessing will require immediate termination.

  Always remember, keeping under-bed and closet monster memberships in good standing requires co-op participation on everyone’s part. If you accept the generosity of other members allowing you into their homes, your time as a parental unit and allowing others to torture in your home is expected. Eating another member’s child remains an added benefit, but remember, it takes both monsters and parents to make this work. Your participation as a parental unit is essential to a healthy and unlimited manipulation of adult authority.

  Security

  Master tells me I do my job well.

  He lets me growl but not bark. Growling comes from deep in my belly, which I’ll be filling tomorrow after our work is finished.

  I growl to let the creepers know they’ll be finished soon.

  I growl as long as they fight.

  I don’t growl to warn them to leave. I don’t want them to leave. If they hear my growl, it’s already too late, and they’ll never leave.

  So they run, and I chase, but I don’t growl. Not yet.

  It’s important work, and Master says I do it well. Because I do, he lets me sleep on the terraces in the sun. They don’t usually creep around here when there’s sun. They wait until the sky is dark, then they creep around.

  So in the sun, I can sleep.

  The stones on the terraces keep me cool. The water does, too. Sometimes Master will take me down to the waterfall, and I can splash and play. All the playing and splashing and exploring in the woods makes me tired and hungry.

  But I know we must wait. We have work to finish first, and then we can eat and rest.

  I sniff the ground hard.

  They’re here. I can smell them.

  They try to sneak, but I can smell them.

  Master takes the leash off my collar and pats my head. I run, but I don’t bark.

  I can smell their sweat.

  They’re running now, and I chase.

  I wait to growl. I won’t growl until my teeth hit bone, and then it’s too late, and they’ll never leave. I only growl until they stop moving, and then I fall back and catch my breath.

  Master knows what to do now, and pats my head.

  The creepers are heavy, and I help Master drag them in.

  By morning, our work will be done and finally, we’ll eat.

  Master will cook his meal and toss some of the flesh to me. He’ll save me the bones.

  Master will pat my head, and I’ll sit at his feet. He will stoke the fire in the great room with the shoes and clothes and leftovers, and I’ll lick the blood from his fingers.

  It’s important work, and Master rewards me for doing my job well.

  Crow Quill

  She dipped her crow quill pen and continued.

  she began, trying not to swirl the tails of the letters

  “Ugh!” She dipped her pen.

  She grinned.

  “Pity.”

  She lifted the candlestick from its holder until the body lying on the table in front of her reflected the flickering blaze. The figure released a muffled whimper when she dipped her pen into it once more. Her tail flicked. She returned the candle to its holder and continued.

  She dipped her pen.

  She dipped her pen a little deeper this time.

  Past Tense

  If I remember correctly—and I don’t know why I wouldn’t—I remember she was a bit creepy.

  Was being the critical word here. Was.

  Past tense.

  Somebody thought up the “death warmed over” expression just for her. Seriously. A knife thrower probably couldn’t slice through all the layers of that scary, scary makeup she heaped on. Maybe she was sparing us from what was decaying undernea…sheesh! I think something creeped up my back just now! Goose bumps!

  Ha!

  But that face...she definitely lugged some serious bags under those eyes. Not really sure what she collected in those bags. Bags baggy bagging. Greasy, heavy, wretched baggage. I think the skin around her eyes even sucked inwards a little. Made them awfully beady. Her eyes, I mean. Nothing to see in those tiny eye socket gaps but shadows.

  Empty, black eye socket shadows. Empty black eyes. Like oil. Oily, black, greasy socket shadow eyes.

  She couldn’t cover that part up with makeup.

  But the disturbing way she spread that awful red lipstick way off her lips. Ugh! Frightening, just...frightening. Her teeth were, too. And black. Well, maybe they were more green and gray than black, and the black just collected between the teeth.

  And there was a lot of space between.

  Kind of matched her skin, the greenish-gray bits. And paper thin. Probably looked straight through the paper into her veins. Not entirely sure what was running through those veins, but I had my theories. She did have a nice, healthy glow�
�for an alien!

  Ha! Ha! See? I can still laugh.

  I’m wondering now if she heard what people said about her—what we said about her. Do you think she heard? I’m thinking maybe yes. But I only said those things because I needed to fit in, to be part of the crowd.

  You know how that goes.

  If I didn’t go along I would be next. I never really meant any of it. I hope she knows that.

  I mean, knew that. Knew that, of course. No way of her knowing now, right?

  No way.

  I did try to be nice to her…in my mind. That’s the part that matters, right? My intentions? I made sure I stayed in the back and didn’t really involve myself when the rest of the crowd did their thing. Just there in principle, but not really participating. I think that’s important.

  That’s the important part, that I didn’t participate.

  But all that squealing…now there’s a sound you don’t hear every day. Did her eyes look like black oil before, or did that squealing thing push her over the…no matter. I didn’t take part. I was far, far in the back, and I really didn’t see much of what was going on.

  I did see some thrashing about, but that was happening way out front. Way out of my personal space.

  Of course I did see the…mess…when it was over. Also not something you see every day. I’m actually talking to someone who is helping me deal with the night terrors, so I’m hopeful about that. I’m trying to forget them. Her eyes, I mean. But you can’t control your dreams now, can you.

  Things creep into your dreams.