My Flesh is Wanting.
It was on as elegant a winter's morning as you could of hoped for when the occupant of 17 Brendon Road vanished without a trace. The police had been called to the scene when a neighbour had expressed concern at the non-appearance of old Mrs Bamford at her weekly bingo session and the constant yelping of one of her two golden Labradors. The residents surrounding her small bungalow home had all emerged from their respective homes to look at the activity and catch the gossip; as always with these situations, stories, accusations and rumours were abound about what exactly had happened and who the culprits were. Had any of them actually heard the truth they would have dismissed it as nonsense, a grotesque tale of ridiculous horrors; such was the human mind that is would filter away the supernatural, bury it in the hope that, through ignorance, it would cease to be. However, this was not the case and, soon after the gossip had died away and the police investigation failed to locate the missing women, one amongst the residence would discover for their self the true terror that had occurred.
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"I still miss the old dear," Susie Claxton sighed as she continued to pack away unwanted belongings, "she didn't say much but always smiled."
Mary nodded her agreement. The two of them had been hired by Mrs Bamford to clean her home once a week; it wasn't a big job and Susie suspected the old women purchased their conversation as much as their domestic skills. Now that their employer had disappeared, with no signs of her whereabouts, let alone her return, the few relatives she actually had, had asked the two of them to pack all her belongings up into boxes and put into storage until a decision could be made as to their fate. The two women, both in their mid-thirties, had agreed out of sympathy and the desire to spend one last time in the home where they had worked for the past five years.
Susie found it so different without Mrs Bamford sat in her old, worn chair and without and constant attentions of Maxie and Mr Jones, the two pet Labradors. Just thinking of the animals made her shudder, though both animals had been found only one was actually alive; by some miracle the press hadn't got hold of the horrors that had been found but Susie, though she now wished she hadn't, had insisted on knowing before returning to the place. She was told how Maxie had been found cowering in a corner whilst Mr Jones' remains were spread across the dining room carpet, the animal having seemingly been ripped to pieces.
"What's this?"
Susie was brought out of her thoughts by Mary's voice and she looked up at her short, red haired friend; she was holding up something that neither of them had ever come across before. It looked to be a small, decorated, box that shone as the light shining through the window reflected off it.
"A new jewellery box?" she offered. Mary shook her head as she passed it to her. As Susie took it she felt a strong warmth flow through her body, it caused her skin to tingle and a heat to form between her legs; there was something welcoming, and inviting, about this strange object.
"It doesn't have a lid," Mary said, "Perhaps it's for decoration? Seems unusual to me."
Susie flicked a lock of brown hair away from her eye as she examined the box, running her fingers along it's intricately patterned surfaces; though she didn't know why, she felt there was something powerful here, something locked up within the wood and brass.
"I'm going to take a lunch break Mary," Susie said, her eyes never leaving the box, "Will you be alright on your own a while?"
"That's fine," came the reply from across the room where Mary had moved to explore under an old drinks cabinet, perhaps searching for some dropped change of forgotten relic of Mrs Bamford's muddled existence.
Keeping the mysterious box pressed close to her, it's warmth both comforting and a little erotic, Susie headed out the house into the bitter winter breeze; her home was only a street down and it wouldn't take her long to reach it.
Susie sighed with relief as she stepped in out of the cold into her own, small abode; she crossed straight into the living room and sat on the sofa, eager to examine her prize. She knew she shouldn't of taken it and yet something had compelled her, urged her to bring it with her and unlock the secrets that she became more and more certain that it contained.
As it sat on her lap she could feel heat spreading from it, tingling up her thighs and causing feelings her husband had failed to provide for years now; the fact that he was out working and she was here, alone, excited her, as if she was in the company of a young, handsome bachelor. Still, she wasn't cheating (why would such a thought even cross her mind?), she was alone with her strange and enticing toy.
"Now then," she whispered to herself as she ran her fingers along its surfaces, enjoying the smooth textures of the brass countered by the roughness of the wood into which it had been placed. Slowly she explored it's edges, it's details and it's every nook and cranny; she thought back to her first lover and how she'd explored his body in a similar, fascinated examination.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed when, without warning, the box began to move; as its edges slid against each other, revealing a shining interior, she realised that, far from a simple ornament, what she had was a complex and intriguing puzzle. Even more determined to work its secrets, she pressed on, always aware of the building heat inside herself. Her mind shut out the constraints of time and didn't once stop to wonder about whether Mary had realised her prolonged absence; the box was everything.
Susie let a slight moan escape her lips as the heat and tingling spread from between her legs and washed across her body, a pleasure she had missed for so long. As she did, the box slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor, her working of it uninterrupted until now. However, it seemed she had already been successful and she watched as the entire box shifted itself, rising and rotating sections into a new, final, position.
A bell tolled. Susie looked around, searching for the source of the mysterious sound but none was forthcoming. She slowly stood and looked around the room, some hidden, primal sixth sense kicking in and warning of danger; there was a presence here.
"Hello?" she tried.
Without warning or explanation the room was bathed into darkness, a black so thick Susie failed to see her hand waved in front her face.
"Hello!?" was all she could manage as panic set in, as her mind tried to rationalise the darkness that had overtaken daylight. She tried to find the sofa she had been sat on but could not, she stumbled forward into a void, searching for some sign of light.
She regretted her wish for illumination as soon as it was granted for it unveiled things before her so horrific her mind struggled to keep a hold of itself. As the pale blue rays, their source unexplainable, rose in intensity, Susie found herself facing three demonic figures. She stood and stared, the need for rationality searching her mind for excuses and meaning and failing to recover either; she was frozen by her own terror and inability to except the evidence of her own two eyes.
"Welcome," said the middle figure. It stood at least six feet tall wearing a suit of black material that seemed, by the areas of exposed skin, to be stitched into it's skin, a metal bar appeared above it's head, having seemingly been attached to its back, and another ran horizontal past it's shoulders and from this one hung numerous knives and scalpels. Over this it wore an old, dirty hat and long, dirty jacket but neither could conceal the horrible site that was its face; no sign of anything human existed, rather it seemed to be composed of very fine straw, sewn together. Susie thought she could see two dark eyes behind the "mask" but couldn't bring herself to look harder.
"What… what…" was all she could manage. The creature smiled.
"Ah, so many questions," it hissed, "Let me introduce myself. I am Scarecrow."
Its name let Susie readdress her assessment and she saw it anew; a demonic collision of rural life and gothic horror was stood before her. It's companions stood silent in the shadows but, from what she managed to catch a glimpse of, they too were of similar design.
"I don't… understand," she tried.
"Few do at first," he said, his voice deep and unemotional, "But down the centuries they come to realise that their whole lives led them to this point."
Susie still didn't understand, she decided she didn't want to now, she wanted release, to return to normality, the life she had lived without monsters or boxes or feelings of pleasure. She wasn't staying longer, she decided, this blackness couldn't go on forever and she would turn and flee into the dark.
She hadn't finished turning when something snagged into her ankle. She screamed as she felt metal pierce who flesh at all points, struggled as she was lifted off the ground to float in the darkness, suspended. Warm blood ran down her body, her insides protested as alien objects were inserted and her nerves screamed with rage.
"Stop!" she cried out but it didn't. Chain and hook tore into her, ripped and stretched the meat of her body and scraped at the bone beneath and always with the precision of a surgeon, always with intent to wound and cause pain. She saw the Scarecrow step towards her.
"The box is the door to our domain," he said, "Your desires were the key."
He reached up towards her head and she screamed.
"But I didn't want anything!"
He brought up a knife in one hand and, with the other, grabbed a clump of her hair. She didn't know what he intended and couldn't do anything to prevent him, had she.
"Everyone wants something," Scarecrow spoke as he cut away a single strand of hair and stepped back admiring his prize, "You wanted to feel again, something you'd long given up hope for whilst dear Jenny Bamford wanted to escape the ravishing effect of age."
Susie's mind raced as she realised her ex-employer had also fallen fowl of the box and it's false promise, that the both of them had been deceived and led to the creature she now saw.
"It was all lies!" she screamed out, "We didn't want this!"
"Oh but you did," came the reply, "The both of you did. Jenny shall never die and you will feel like you have never felt before." Scarecrow lifted the strand of hair and, using a thin instrument that hung from his side, he teased it in with the rest of his 'mask'.
The truth began to dawn on Susie, the mask wasn't straw but a collection of conquests, hairs gathered from those who to had fallen victim of the box; the box hadn't lied, she realised. As the hooks stretched her flesh and made her entire nervous system scream she realised it had delivered on its promise, she was experiencing that which she never had before. It had been a trap of her own creation.
In the moments before her body was torn apart and spread across the darkness Susie couldn't help but wonder how much desire each person held within them and how many puzzles could be unlocked by the part of our soul that can never be satisfied by all that we are fortunate enough to have.