Flesh Failure

by Sèphera Girón

  They never returned to the little room. In time, I washed some of their clothes to wear for myself and threw the rest out the front door. I watched as other destitute girls scooped them up quickly.

  The landlord never bothered me. I paid the weekly rent when he appeared and he didn’t ask any questions. He never even acknowledged that the room had gone from four tenants to one.

  I searched newspaper headlines to see what might have happened to my three ladies. The days blended into each other as I read the cards. The wounds had healed nicely. On most days, my body behaved adequately and my emotions were rather even keeled. Then there would be those days where I felt tired and irritated. I couldn’t think clearly and all I wanted to do was lie in my bed and stare at the shadows the lantern flame created on the walls.

  Sometimes I thought that I needed to go back for another electric dosage, but then I would be somewhat able to get through the day again. Other times I had incredible energy and was able to charm people into parting with their money despite their fear of my face, should they catch a glimpse of it from behind my veil.

  One night, when I was lurking in a doorway with my tarot cards, waiting for someone to read, I spotted a woman who looked like Charlotte.

  “Charlotte,” I called out to her. The woman looked back as if recognizing the name. It was indeed Charlotte. “Charlotte!”

  I waited for her to recognize me, for her face to break into a smile and run to greet me. Instead, she turned and hurried off.

  “Charlotte!” Now I was puzzled and a bit miffed. So they were indeed avoiding me. I stood up and ran after Charlotte. There were some explanations that needed to happen.

  I had regained my strength and my power times ten over the weeks. Food and electricity had made me strong, rendering me taller and wider in a slow, steady arc. Despite my low-energy days, my adrenaline was surging. It was easy to run after her and catch her. I held her arm but she wouldn’t look at me.

  “What has happened, Charlotte? Why do you avoid me?”

  “You’re the fortune-teller, you tell me!” she howled. “Let me go.”

  “What’s wrong? You were the one who found me, who cared for me, who nursed me back to health and taught me how to earn a living. Now you too abandon me, just like my creator?”

  My rage grew. In fact, I was amazed at the anger, grief and resentment that poured out of me like blood from a freshly cut vein. But there it was. The months, weeks, days…of grief, of confusion, of trying to understand who I was and what I was. Trying to earn a living to get through the days so that I could at last buy the freedom to find my creator and find my reason to exist. I realized that I was holding her roughly, her feet off the ground, tiny little creature that she was. In fact, I could have squashed her thin little neck with my hand.

  “I…it was the girls…they…”

  “What?” The word came out as a bark. Passersby rushed along the slick cobblestones, their heads bowed, not wanting to get involved.

  “They thought it would be bad for business…to be seen with you.”

  “Why? I’m such a freak? And yet, they aren’t?”

  “It wasn’t so much the freak part…it’s the smell, Aggy. I’m sorry, but the smell of death is on you day and night. The perfumes, the baths, the peroxide; nothing quells your foul odour and we couldn’t live in that tiny room with you anymore.”

  I let her go, tears pouring down my face.

  “I AM death,” I said. “I fool myself but I’m no human. I’m not alive anymore. I’m just a collection of rotting meat.” I turned from Charlotte. She touched my arm.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you, Aggy, that’s why I didn’t tell you. We thought it better if we just disappeared.”

  “That’s only part of it, the smell. The rest is that they are afraid of me. Of the sewn-together creature who can speak. Did they not understand how grateful I was? How you took me from the streets and gave me a home. I am grateful to you all, I would never hurt you. Don’t be afraid of me.”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “I-I…need to go,” she muttered. “I have to work…” I watched her eyes glancing worriedly at the passersby, as if being seen with me would paint her with a brush of pariah. I might be an outcast even among the outcasts, but she still lived and breathed in this world. I couldn’t let her world fall away because my feelings were hurt.

  Life was hard enough for the girls without me destroying it more.

  “Go, Charlotte,” I said. “Tell them not to be fearful. I won’t acknowledge any of you again, and you can work Whitechapel. I won’t bother you.”

  Charlotte nodded, her lips trembling, tears welling in her eyes. She averted her gaze, as if looking upon my face was a torture she could no longer endure. She scurried off into the night.

  Rage filled me. I stomped along the cobblestones, pushing past people roughly, not caring if my shawl fell from my face to show the criss-cross of scars that adorned me. In the darkness, most people refused eye contact as a rule, never wanting to meet the eyes of a robber or a rapist. My face frightened those who saw me, perhaps even saving me from one filthy dodger who seemed poised for some kind of attack. His dark eyes glittered in the night as my face appeared under the lamplight. His mouth opened in an “o” and he turned. He pushed his way frantically through a man and woman engaged in rapid conversation and then a group of four women, likely maids finished with their shifts. In his haste to hurry away, he narrowly escaped being hit by a carriage. The idea of him squashed under the hooves of two horses amused me and soothed the sting of my anger for a moment.

  I continued on, the crowds of the day long gone, stragglers making their way home. There was no denying the chill in the air even through my many layers.

  My anger was dissipating, my pace slowed and I pulled my scarf back over my head, more for warmth than to worry about the staring. I grew more aware of where I was. I stood in front of the storefront where the Elephant Man had been displayed. There was still a paper stapled to the storefront, although the windows and doors were boarded up. Perhaps they had always been. I stared through one of the slats of the boards, through the dusty window but could see nothing. There was no light in the darkness for me to see as if I was only looking at myself.

  That man, that monster they had called him. He had something wrong with him and the doctors couldn’t help him. I heard he was in the hospital. I turned around and stared at the long, gated grounds of the hospital. The Elephant Man was likely in there somewhere, haunting the hallways, mourning for a normal life.

  I realized that I too longed for a normal life. There was no reason for me to grind my life in poverty. My creator had only thrown me away because he thought I was dead. If he could see what a success his experiment truly was, he could take me around the world, showing me off.

  Who was he?

  Where would I find him?

  I sat down in the doorway of Joseph Merrick’s sideshow emporium for a moment and ignored the foul stench of urine as I took the packet of cards from my pouch. The cloth came apart quickly despite my cold, clumsy fingers. The cards nearly leapt into my fingers. My legs throbbed. I realized I had been walking around all day, agitated and annoyed. I had a lot of money on me from my fortune telling that evening so I didn’t want to sit in the doorway too long. It would be nothing for a mugger to relieve me of my pay.

  The distant lights from the hospital and the gaslight across from me were enough. I shuffled the cards slowly and quietly. I didn’t know if I would be able to decipher a message for myself. I didn’t know if I even wanted to know the answer. The streets were nearly empty now. It wasn’t a good time to be out alone. A lone snowflake danced in front of me.

  The first card I pulled was the magician.

  The second card was judgment.

  The third card was the hierophant.

  The cards’ images swam in my hand as I stared at th
em. I understood the magician, the man who had created me. And certainly he would be getting his judgment day when I appeared on his doorstep. But the hierophant. A preacher? A teacher?

  I stared some more, hoping the images would pull into focus and the message would be clear. It didn’t happen.

  I put the cards back together and wrapped them back up, keeping a look out for anyone who might be sneaking up on me.

  It wasn’t easy to stand back up. Sitting down had been relaxing and it pained me in every manner to know that I wouldn’t be sitting down again anytime soon.

  “Thank you, Elephant Man,” I said to the doorway and then to the hospital across the street.

  What did he do all day?

  Was he in a cage?

  Did he lie in bed?

  I headed towards my home, looking over at the hospital until I passed it. More snow began to fall. I dreaded the idea of spending any more time at all in the slums. It was time to find my creator. The shadows were long, the doorways looming, and I was certain to keep looking along every cobblestone and flicker of light for danger.

  Despite my furtive attentions, the man lunged out of the darkness, tackling me like an animal. My strength meant little as his was superior. We rolled and struggled until I realized my only recourse was to bite him.

  My teeth sank into his neck and at first, he kept fighting me. However the more he pulled away the deeper my teeth sank, the harder I bit. Before long, his flesh was in my mouth. I was so shocked I breathed in instead of out and that piece of his neck slid down my throat before I could do anything about it.

  It didn’t stop me from attacking him further. The salty coppery taste of blood awakened something primal in me and I craved more. What more could this man give me then a tiny chunk of neck flesh?

  “Leave me alone. Stop,” he cried out, at this point, my strength returning tenfold as he grew weaker from the blood gushing from his neck. The rich pungent scent of it filled my nostrils and I buried my face inside of him, gorging on gulps of blood and bits of meat. His feeble attempts to push me away began to subside until at last, it was apparent that he would be moving no more.

  I pushed him from me and stood up. His body fell onto the ground. My stomach growled noisily, teased by the taste. I licked my lips and looked around. I pulled him further into the alley and pulled him apart with my fingers. A few more bites and I was satisfied. The blood provided me with strength and I was rejuvenated.

  Wiping my face with my skirt, I looked at him. No one would suspect a human could have torn him as such. It was likely a dog attack.

  I hurried away from his crumpled body before anyone walking past could understand the gravity of the tableau in front of them.

  The taste of blood fresh on my lips, I returned home.

  It was colder still the next morning. Winter was fast approaching and if I was to make any progress at all, it needed to be soon. It would be difficult for me to have to suffer through snow when I wasn’t created for it. My scalp was missing chunks of hair with the remaining sewn on in a most unflattering manner which was more apparent as it grew out.

  I walked quickly down the road, people around me parting as I sliced through them. My height and gait no doubt mesmerized them into letting me pass so as to save themselves potential trouble.

  Besides, for many of these folks, I knew their secrets. I could look into their guilty eyes and see their pleasures and their pain. So many of them had opened the doorways into their worlds, creating passages I could slip through and imagine their thoughts.

  Their secrets became my secrets and I greedily drank them in as lustily as I had drank the blood of the man who had tried to attack me.

  My power swelled and I dreamed the answer would come to me. How could I see for others but not for myself, what was going to happen?

  “Miss, oh miss.” A young lady scurried after me. I turned to look at her well-worn face. The poor thing was barely sixteen but looked at least ten years older and worn out at that.

  “I’ve heard you’re the best. Can you help me please?”

  We found an alleyway where people weren’t bustling and jostling us. I produced my cards from the pouch and she slipped two coins into my hands.

  “That’s all I have,” she said.

  “No, it’s not,” I said, not even knowing I was going to say it. But there it was. Out there between us.

  “You’re right, I do have more money but I need to spend it wisely on food.”

  “I understand,” I said, looking at her pale, gaunt face painted with large circles of rouge. “What is it you need to know?” I asked her.

  “I…I’m not sure. That’s the problem. I don’t know what to do. There are pains and wounds I can’t explain. My body…well, I can’t speak of such delicate issues but my lord, it hurts.”

  “Let’s see if this will pass for you.”

  My stomached tightened in fear for her. Besides the devil and the tower, the facts indicated that she too was on the killer’s list.

  “You need to steer clear of the shadows,” I warned her.

  “I do and will.”

  “It’s more important now than ever.”

  “Of course, Jack the Ripper and all.”

  I nodded.

  “You need to see a doctor or a healer for your pains. You have a disease, likely syphilis.”

  “I figured as much. I can’t afford a doctor. What can I do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll give you a pound if you can heal me. Light a candle or something.”

  I knew that she wouldn’t last the night because she would be sliced and diced in an alleyway. No point in a thief taking her money when she was willing to pay me to pray for her.

  “I will go home and light a candle for you and I will pray for you every night,” I told her.

  “I know you will. Everyone says you’re the best.”

  I laughed and accepted her money.

  After she left, I continued on walking. My new shoes had been custom made and cost a lot of money but they were worth it. I could walk better in them. It still wasn’t ideal but part of that was my whole body being made off balance. Aesthetics are one thing, equilibrium is quite another.

  However, long walks were part of my routine to pass the time and find new places to tell fortunes. The river glistened in the distance. It would be nice to walk along the river banks.

  I stepped onto the bridge and stared down into the river. How delightful it must be when the river was warm. Today, the breeze from the water was chilling.

  It was so very cold I didn’t think I could stand for it. As I wandered along, a sheet of paper blown up against a fence caught my eye. The words “human reanimation” was printed in bold on the page.

  The flyer was for an evening of whimsical talks and lectures by professors about the mysteries of science. I noted the day and time.

  It dawned on me that I had to discover what the day was today and if I’d missed the lectures already.

  I looked at the flyer again. My heart beat so fast I thought I would pass out.

  The names on the flyer. Dr. Rueben, Dr. Walker, Professor Klein.

  Echoes of memories flashed through me. Did any of these men know my creator?

  I walked around the riverbank in a daze, dizziness returning full force the harder I tried to think. My stomach roiled. I was craving something. I didn’t know what. There had to be something I could sink my teeth into and a steak pot pie wasn’t going to satisfy me. My mouth watered for a juicy, tender mountain of flesh like that man had.

  A large woman in standard maid clothing walked towards me carrying a shopping bag and taking glances at the river.

  I raised my hands.

  “Ma’am, miss?”

  “I don’t have time to talk,” she said as she attempted to hurry on by. “I have a m
ission to do for the master and I must be quick.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m quick. I promise,” I assured her. We stood by a small garden with several hedges.

  The woman stopped and stared up at the grey sky pregnant with snow.

  “It will be colder before it gets warmer. Every year we have to get used to it as if it’s a surprise.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “A surprise.”

  “Oh, you’re a funny one. But really, what do you want?”

  “I need to know what day it is today. I’m not stark raving mad, I just realized that I hadn’t checked my calendar in a while.”

  “It’s December so you are safe. Not quite the end of the year.”

  “Have I missed this lecture?” I asked her, holding out the paper.

  She looked at it.

  “I can’t tell. I can’t read,” she said.

  “So what day is today? I’m wondering if I missed this.”

  “Today is the sixth.”

  “Ah, good. So I can still go.”

  I didn’t want to do it, not really, but the scent of her, the countenance of her rather cool demeanour, as if she were doing me a big favour to answer a few simple questions, angered me.

  My fingers twitched and quivered. Before I realized what I was doing, I pushed her into the hedges. No one was around as I tore her clothes from her. My mind was filled with white-hot lust and I’m shameful to think of it now. However, at the time, it was the craving of the blood that consumed me.

  I feasted upon her too, ripping out her throat as I had the previous man. As her warm blood gushed into my mouth, an intense sense of guilt consumed me.

  With the insatiable cravings abated, I was able to think clearly. I needed to discard my bloody clothes before the lecture started.

  It was today.

  After walking quite a ways, I threw my overcoat into the river. Remarkably, my dress, though dirty from the wrestling, didn’t have noticeable blood. I had washed my hands and face and anywhere else there might be blood in the freezing-cold water of the river.