Stranger Realms

by Jarred Martin

  And then, the doll was no more.

  I collected my razor, and the mangled flesh it had brought me, and once again, deposited them in the drawer by my bedside.

  All of this brought a but a profound exhaustion in me, and I, being already sat on my bed, resolved to rest finally, and righteously, having known in certainty, that I had extricated a great evil from my life. And so I slept[. And soundly, and peacefully.

  I dreamed.

  Such sweet dreams I had.

  I saw my beloved over me, descending from some ethereal firmament on breaths of lavender and holly, with wisps of her glorious brunet locks hanging down, her winged form suffuse with heavenly radiance. What wondrous expression that glow did frame, smiling upon me as its orbit brought it ever closer. Billowing, gossamer strands of softest and spectral element draped over the sum of my flesh as at last we touched. And I cried out as I felt those long lost lips once again brush my tortured, worried frame, each tender osculation sending shafts of consummate passion throughout my being, as celestial and marvelous as those that pierced St. Theresa, and no less fervent. Such ecstasy I knew! And I cried out again as my beloved’s dimensions bolstered and a firmness and weight were bore down upon me in glorious reception, and those heavenly shafts did penetrate and multiply an ecstasy so absolute that I thought I might not survive it.! And I must have sung then, for I next heard my own voice join an angelic choir, unseen in the seething ether of marjoram and teakwood that surged above. The beating of her godly wings sent the air to rush about, and then there came a presence so divine that its glory shook me in a flux of seizure, and commanded all other reflex to senselessness as its sublime experience eclipsed them and was visited entirely upon my sex with such loving tactile grace that I had all but vanished into a realm where only the twin inhabitants of my member and its rousing did dwell.

  “What ecstasy” I cried out

  “What splendor!”

  “What euphoria!” I shouted.

  And it was at that moment that all pretext of blissful fancy shattered into ruin and revealed, in its absence, the obscene nightmare to which I had been remanded these past few days. I, prostrate on my bed, peered down over my naked body, and the sheer horror and abhorrence at what I witnessed next numbed the very marrow of my bones. There, betwixt the splay of my legs, stood the doll, whole, and untouched by flame or even cinder, leering and twisting its horrible, plague-scarred mouth into an exaggeration of my own salacious glee. It held firm in its grasp my own engorged phallus, and in its pallid hands it did execute motion, gripping the sides of my rigid member, and heaving and yanking the flesh between, it replicated nearly perfectly in sensation the act of carnal love. And I, dear Doctor, only just then having full command of my waking faculties, and in my subsequent slumber knowing only the pleasure of long lost touch, and being in such a state of horrified shock, I’m ashamed to admit that in that dark moment I abruptly jettisoned my seed, and it sprayed from my phallus upwardly and with great force and distance, as I trembled with horrid orgasm. I next opened my eyes, my face dripping sweat, and I looked down to gaze upon the hideous specter of the doll, spattered with clots of dried blood all over, and now dripping with my milky semen, it, completely animated now, only leered back at me in utter satisfaction at the abomination it had perpetrated, its scowl marked by deathly fever and its small white knobs of teeth gleaming in sickening fashion.

  I could not abide this. This horrid doll, with its blasphemous machinations, this impossible creature before me! I seized the doll in a disgusted rage, and committed it once again to the ravenous flames of my furnace. And as the blaze again consumed the beastly apparition, it once again let loose a spectral and painful wail as it was consumed by the heat. And my satisfaction was only temporary, for I knew now the impermanence of such means of disposal. And what was more, I saw, as the devilish thing was reduced to ash, aged Bildad, who had been resting on the hearth, sit up and take interest in the burning of the doll. And as he nosed about the gruesome scene, I took heed of a peculiarity then; for I noticed a bit of smoke waft through the grating and disappear, inhaled in the sinuses of old Bildad, much as one would see a a grayish vapor exuded on the breath on a cold day, only black, and traveling inward this time.

  I tried to pay this event as little mind as I could. I committed myself over the next hour or so to solving the hellish puzzle that was the doll and what next to do about it, and so had not the inclination to look into the dog’s matters. And so I sat in my parlor, examining my dilemma, exerting no small effort of intellect, when it dawn upon me, a childishly simple facet of the equation which I had, strangely, given little thought previous; and that was, of course, to seek edification at the toy shop where I and the doll were first acquainted. Thinking back, I recall the dreadful expression of the shopkeep that the doll's presence seemed to issue, and thought that the man must know something about it to react in such a manner, and resolved to find out exactly what that was.

  I recalled seeing a stairway and door leading to a small apartment attached to the shop when I exited it last, and I thought it would be no small matter of good fortune that the shopkeep would live so close to his business, as it gave me better chance of quickly locating him. And so I was off! But before I left, I attempted to collect Bildad, as I thought he would appreciate the constitutional, only to discover that he had suddenly taken ill. The aged thing was lying on his side, wheezing, and panting heavily, apparently quite stricken with discomfort. It seemed that illness could not but abound in this household, and prayed that poor Bildad did not chance upon some lingering strain of plague that had taken my wife and child. And though it pained me greatly to witness the suffering of Bildad, I vowed only to see to my old friend’s health upon my return, as the matter at hand was most dire.

  I hurried out into the street, heading in the direction of the popular thoroughfare and the quaint shop. I arrived to find it closed. I though it quiet the curios development as it was only just before noon on a Tuesday. And I though my curiosity would soon be satisfied by the shopkeeper, unpleasant as I remembered him, but still, I thought, headed up the stairs, I was determined to have answers from him one way or another, and resolved not to leave his presence, should he be home, unless he gave some information as to the nature of my ghastly tormentor.

  I completed the stairs, and knocked on his door. I waited, and there was no answer. Still, with sinking heart, I knocked again, and waited, ears pricked and ready to receive any sound from within the apartment, but alas, there was none!

  What was I to do? Clearly, the man was not a home, or at least did not want to appear so. What would you have done, Doctor? In my situation, as bizarre as it was, I’m sure one could imagine the desperation those circumstances brought about. And forgive me, Doctor, but, as I found the door locked, and most securely so, I put my shoulder into it once, twice, and then three times, heaving greatly my weight behind it, until the frame did splinter enough for me to reach in and undo the lock that secured it. And this, perhaps my only crime committed in my strange tale, I beg you to remark. I’ll admit to it, and freely. And so, as regards to the door, having just broken, I proceeded to enter.

  I found the apartment deathly quiet, and all about its interior deathly still. I noticed that there must have been some unrest within, for I saw an ottoman lying overturned on the floor, and there lay also scattered pages of newspaper. I could not help but notice that one particular page presented one of the reportings of the mutilated children that I was so familiar with.

  I called out then, not knowing the man’s name, but explaining my familiarity with his profession and that we had been briefly acquainted. There was no reply. It was somewhat dim within with the shutters drawn, and so I took up a kerosene lantern, and lighted it, and made my way slowly and quietly through the apartment. I was careful to call out from time to time, so as not to disturb the shopkeep if he turned out to be in some position where he was unable to hear me, but it did no good, and still my calls were unanswered. As I exp
lored the suite, the glow from the lantern cast dark and foreboding shadows along the strange walls. I felt a distinct chill in the air, and all of a sudden my senses became attuned to the stench of offal from somewhere in the suite. I checked every room, and then opened every closet, warily leading through those foreign apertures with the light casting wavering and disturbing shade along unknown walls. I prepared myself for any sort of shock, though I did not know why, but I had the sensation that something was woefully amiss. I explored further that small dwelling of grim dancing shadow and the increasingly severe stench of offal, until there was only a single door remaining unopened, and here, I thought, the shopkeep must be, if he is here at all.

  And so I opened it.

  Such grisly horror my lamplight did reveal as at last I came upon the shopkeep! The door I had opened led to his toilet, I soon discovered. It was once tiled with white and the walls alabaster too, now gone a deep crimson in the quivering lantern's glow. Hideous claret from one end of the room to the other decorated the walls in viscous clots and spatters, the colors running deepest crimson to black as shadow devoured and the light shook in my hand. Great boughts of blood spray had lighted on every surface in quantities I would not have thought possible, and seeing them, I was assured the victim was wholly drained of every ounce of claret. And amidst this sanguine exhibition lay the shopkeep, disemboweled by his own hand. He held a large kitchen knife with his fingers coiled in a death grip around the handle. The blade was sunk deeply into the shopkeep's chest, apparently lodged against the underside of his own sternum, and had gotten stuck there in its trajectory, which had begun at the groin, and continued upward through the belly, severing the skin, muscle and adipose tissue, and rending the flesh not unlike a curtain at the inauguration of a first act. And with the flesh and sinews so cleaved, the bowels and viscera were free to spill forth, unhampered, and had slithered quite wetly out through the torn curtain of belly flesh, and lay about on the floor in piles of glistening offal. And lastly I noticed that, perhaps in some abrupt transmittance of guilt or explanation, took a finger as he waited to die, and clearly scrawled through his own blood the beginnings of some word or phrase, but only achieving the letters “F” and “O” before he died, rendering the message an eternal mystery. I wonder what he was attempting to relay.

  I recoiled instinctively, though I cannot say what overcame me more, the grotesque display of innards, or the abattoir stench that pervaded the apartment. I retched, my hand over my mouth, stepping backward. I came to the door, only noticing then that my own footprints were impressed upon the apartment, on the rug and floor, leading from the toilet to the door, but I was in such a state of purest abhoration and horror that I could not spend the time in that awful suite to remedy it, and only fled, as quickly as I could. I threw open the shattered door which I had broken upon entry, and emerging on the other side, found my hands were too unsteady to secure it correctly, and so, regretfully, I left it askew as it was, and made haste back to my own home.

  I realize now that I should have reported the indecent to the authorities, and in truth intended to at some point, but as I have illustrated many times, I was very out of sorts to act in any sort of proper or rational fashion. Theses were trying times for my poor tortured mind, and amid the never ending horrors, I could only trust myself to make haste, and secure myself in the comfort of my own abode. Do not judge me so. The man was already dead, and I left living in the wake of his cowardice, still had such supernatural elements to contend with!

  I soon arrived home, very much frayed, and out of sorts; so much so that, entering my parlor, I could scarcely remain upright long enough to find a chair to collapse upon. Now comfortably situated, I essayed to inventory the sundry grievous transgressions to both man and nature that I had borne witness to all these days. And all manner of grieving and death, and dolls, and murder, perverted assault, and mutilations most foul did eddy about my faculties until I thought I might become ill to sustain such horrid notions all at once. Though taxing, I was stalwart, and resolved to bring things to a manageable degree, for my own sanity seemed at stake. And it was while still in my chair, mulling these things over, that I heard the whimpering of poor Bildad from another room, and suddenly recalled that he had contracted some form of discomfort or illness. I leapt up in a fit of compassion for my old companion, and rushed to him immediately.

  I found the dog in a state of seizure, or something like it, and apparently quite painful at that. Bildad spasmed involuntarily, his musculature and fur contracting and furrowing, the tongue lolling out past his white-whiskered snout, and old yellowed teeth, whimpering and yapping.

  I, of course, maintain only a rudimentary sense of the canine biology, and so, sadly, was not able to offer my faithful pet any sort of relief during his spate of paroxysms. I could only watch, and wish comfort for him, stroking his head and wishing for hasty and full recovery. Suddenly, I was then reminded of my erstwhile ailing wife and child, in the throes of fever, raving with a madness that only prolonged agony could bring about. Their plague-ravaged faces alight with blistering sores, wild eyed and drenched in frigid sweat. Bildad had some of that look to him, as I watched him struggle for his life on the floor.

  Abruptly, the trembling intensified, and I feared it might be the final seizure that would end poor Bildad’s life. I watched as the paroxysms shook the quivering muscles beneath his fur, and strangely, it seemed to converge all in a singular location of his body, that being his left side, and centermost. My jaw must have dropped down as I gaped in horror at what was transpiring. The location did not quiver and tremble now, but began to reach outward in a bizarre sweep of protruding flesh. It was a sickening and narrow tine, as if something was trying to force its way out from inside of him. I looked into his humble and glassy eyes as he was stricken and overcome with pain and fear, and he wrenched his jaws wide and vomited forth a tide of fresh and hot blood, that washed over the floor.

  This seemed to be the last of Bildad, as I could non longer discern a pattern of breath, but still, from deep inside of him something shook and struggled to emerge, pushing outward in peaks of hair-covered flesh, and producing most disturbing and unnatural jagged point. How awful! And I prayed then that Bildad had indeed given up his spirit so that he may not longer endure what seemed to be a most excruciating ordeal. I stared as once again his flesh expanded outward in an odd peak, strained to such a degree that the bones of poor Bildad’s ribs could be heard creaking as they veered inside of him. And further still, as flesh found the cessation of its resistant properties, and a bloody void was opened therein. Bildad’s flesh and sinew split apart with an unholy sound of pliable flesh being rent asunder, and the poor dog opened up with great elliptical flaps of his flesh bursting outward and spouting claret about in horrid bursts of crimson.

  And I saw then, in that abysmal cleft, the gleam of a razor, and further more, the gore-sodden hand which held it. It was tiny. And porcelain. And stayed by my abject state of horror, I could only watch in disbelief as the doll, whole once more, climbed out of that slick aperture, streaked completely in gore so that it was only the single horrific color of red. And it lifted its grinning, fever-ravaged face at me, and its mouth did drop open to expel the odious claret it had injected in its sickening womb. And after that, the thing uttered such a laugh, with its glistening, entail spattered eyes painted on its face wide and mad, that I produced a scream at an even greater volume so as to drown it out.

  And still, the doll, slithering, wriggling, worked to extricate itself from the mire of gore which entangled it, all the while brandishing my old shaving razor. And suddenly I found I was in command of my senses once again, and wasting no time, I turned and hurried away from the butchered form of my noble pet, and found myself running wildly toward my chambers, not chancing a single moment to look behind me. And arriving in what I hoped to be safety, I slammed shut the door and turned the lock to impede further entry. And in the interest of security, I then took to my bed, and remained there sh
aking, under cover, repeating the Lord’s Prayer, and squeezing my eyes shut. Yes, I prayed then, Doctor. Even a man who had turned away from the presence of his God, can, when he is in grave need of spiritual comfort and can turn to no other fleshly abode, will then return to his supernatural being and beg interloping.

  I prayed, shaking there in the darkness under my covers. And strangely my thoughts turned to my sweet departed and beloved. How I wished once more to view that pallid brow but a single time, unscarred by plague and fever, sweet and inviting, so that I might plant but a single kiss upon it. If only I could feel he comfort of Batilda’s hand in mine, I might summon the strength and fortitude to face such evils as tormented me. But it was not so. And then I thought, if there is and right in the unknowable divide between death and living, I may see her then, in the quiet place where cherubs alight, and murmuring brooks of purest ambrosia wind a gentle course through the knolls of honeydewed grasses. And in the light of eternal sunshine, may I but glimpse my beloved’s smiling face, before I am remanded to bleakest dark, with all the souls of Hell disturbed by my torment!

  I was surely to die in those next seconds, I thought surely, surely. I could nearly feel the spectral hand of the executioner reach out to me, so as to gather me like a single grain of wheat from his godly field. Goodbye, I thought.