Rest Well, Pheebz
About two weeks ago, we learned of the passing of one of our anthology authors, Mary Ann Jackson, lovingly known as Pheebz. We wanted to offer her story from GIVE: An Anthology of Anatomical Entries here for folks to read. This is a body horror collection about organ/tissue donation, so if that’s not your taste, I won’t blame you for not reading. Thank you for being in our lives, Pheebz!
SKINNED
BY MARY PETENSTINE JACKSON
Vincent calls Pepper into his office. He is the head of “The Family” and has been for a very long time. She stops in her tracks and turns to walk in. She notices that the room is tastefully decorated with a heavy oak desk, midnight blue drapes hanging over the curved windows of the turret, and a dark marble floor. She is a little anxious as she enters the room because she has heard some of the gossip going around; gossip about an alliance with the newly formed Dwellers of the Dark. That alliance worries Pepper as she watches Vincent grip the lion head knobs to close the thick doors. He is a pleasant looking man, older and wise, she thinks, as he runs his hand through his dark brown hair. His eyes look sad and concerned and this sets Pepper’s nerves even more on edge. She hides the anxiety well with her clear, bright blue eyes and a blank expression on her smooth face. She perches confidently on the office’s cream-colored, plush chair.
“He has handpicked you,” Vincent informs her.
He is Borok, the High Priest of the Church of Satan and the figurehead of the Dwellers of the Dark.
She shifts slightly in her chair, wanting to run and hide. Being picked by him for anything was never good. Vincent walks towards her and places a fatherly hand on her shoulder.
In a shaky voice, he explains Borok’s selection. “He wants your fair, white skin.”
A small shudder travels through her.
“There isn’t much time before the Necromancer and others from the church come to take you.”
She knows there will be five other members of the church and she knows exactly where they will take her, into the lowest of the catacombs beneath the castle.
He continues, “You know this is of the utmost importance to our clan. I won’t lie… it will be extremely painful and very uncomfortable for quite some time after the procedure, but you must offer yourself to this.”
Pepper hangs her head slightly, “Yes sir, I understand.”
“This isn’t only to solidify The Family’s alliance with the Dwellers of the Dark, it will also ensure that we will stand together when the Hierarchy crumbles.”
A moment later, they hear a knock on one of the big doors. Vincent crosses the room and opens the door a crack. Pepper tries to make out what is being said, but hears only urgent tones and mumbled, rushed speech. Seconds after closing the door, Vincent hands her a white cotton gown.
“Change, quickly!”
He leaves her alone in the room where she changes and waits. When Vincent returns, he offers to walk her to the tunnel opening of the catacombs. She accepts and turns toward the doors, but is surprised when Vincent heads to the fireplace. A secret passage, she thinks as they walk in silence. Teeth chattering, Pepper shivers, unsure of whether it’s the dark, dank passageway or the fear building in her. Her mind turns to what she knows of the age-old torture and means of punishment, being flayed alive. They will start on either her arm or leg, and work their way around until all of her skin is removed. She thinks of what will happen to her.
Someone approaches the small group from behind, but Pepper is too deep in thought to care. She feels a pinch as something punctures the back of her neck. Her knees go weak and she experiences a falling sensation as everything goes black.
As Pepper awakes, she is completely immobile, save only slight movement of her head. Her body is in a never-ending, open jumping jack pose, both ankles and wrists being pulled to their limits, fastened to short chains. A slight breeze cools her head, which she realizes is now clean-shaven.
She tries to lift her chin and looks around the cavern surrounding her. Lit candles bathe her in a circle of light, rendering her unable to make out any features of the large group of hooded figures standing in the shadows. Off to the far right, Borok stands before a podium, holding a book. Chanting, he picks it up and waves it in the air. As he approaches her, Pepper’s eyes widen.
On the spine of the book, fine hairs and freckles dot the surface. The cover is pale and soft. She can see what looks like a birthmark or a mole on the back cover.
Skin, she thinks. The book is made of skin! Is this how mine will be used?
A mammoth of a man leads a group of four other men in from the left, each holding a more menacing flaying tool than the one before him: a four-inch flat-top blade with a curved hook on the top edge, a tree purser-looking tool with a short handle, a saw with wicked teeth, and the last one, a six-inch blade on one side and a ripper on the back part at the top. The four men surround Pepper, two flanking her sides, one at her head, and one at her toes. Her thoughts are racing and she wants to scream out for someone to help her.
But she has been chosen and therefore, she shouldn’t complain. She must sacrifice her temporary comfort for the good of her people.
The height of her fear makes her feel faint and extremely aware at the same time. Borok continues to chant in an obscure tongue, completely unintelligible to Pepper.
Suddenly, the mass of hooded figures chants back to their High Priest. With a wave of his hand, the four men simultaneously commence their cutting. Long, ear splitting screams of agony let loose from Pepper’s throat as tears begin to break free. The tools pierce her skin and the fat layer beneath. The blood trickles to the floor with each cut, slash, and pull of her skin. Her body begins to convulse from the pain. The candlelight seems to dim and the sounds drift far away as the trauma sends her into shock.
When Pepper comes to again, she cannot make sense of what she is feeling, seeing or hearing. She feels groggy, as if she has been under for hours, and she cannot move or scream, even though white-hot pain threatens to send her mind back into the dark. As the fogginess in her brain starts to clear, she feels wet and sticky.
Why am I in such unbearable pain? Where am I?
A figure jogs Pepper’s memory and she tries to remember. Boobrick? Burocks? No, not right…Borok! Oh my god! Sweeping, seeping blood and fluid ooze out from where skin once was. A horrified gasp escapes her parched throat as realization and panic set in.
How long does it take for a vampire to regenerate a full body of skin?
She feels a hard tug and sharp pain as her epidermis slides to the floor with a wet, smacking sound. Darkness envelops her again.
Jarring pain brings her back, eyes wide open, as she bounces on the cold floor, the searing, burning feeling on her heels triggering her senses to high alert. She feels rough, moist hands binding her wrists, pulling and stretching her arms as she tries to focus. Something runs down her face. Through her haze, she can see smears, drips and drag marks trailing behind her on the stone.
An iron gate opens with a long squeak. Borok’s voice drones on and on, chanting words that have no meaning to Pepper. “That is not dead, which can eternal lie! With the strange eons, even death may die! That is not dead, which can eternal lie! With the strange eons, even death may die!”
Light temporarily blinds her as she is dragged into a dazzling ceremonial chamber. She is crudely thrown against a wall, pain continuing to needle her body.
Pepper turns towards Borok’s voice and sees two robed men fitting her pale, blood smeared skin over what looks like a badly decayed, broken body. Her stomach pitches and rolls, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream of anger, pain, horror and grief as the darkness closes in on her yet again, even without eyelids.
This time, she awakens in her own plush and lavish bedchamber. If not for the pain and intravenous tubes snaking
through the gauze wrapped around her body, she would have written the experience off as a horrible nightmare. She hears a sweet, soft whisper. She knows that voice…it’s her friend, Lydia. A small smile creeps across her face, causing her to wince. Lydia is a petite, dark-haired, cheery lady. She offers Pepper a sip of water.
Lydia is known to prattle on when she is nervous or angry, and right now she is both. Vincent was so wrong to do this to Pepper! she thinks.
“Why do the Dwellers of the Dark need so many organs and tissues from us vampires for the demons they raise anyway? I think Borok just gets a kick out of torturing our kind. Thank goodness you aren’t human, Pepper, or you would have died within a few hours of the start of your ordeal. As it is, you’ve been incoherent for a week! I’ve been beside you the whole time – you never came to but you have moaned and whimpered a bit so I assumed you were having a terrible dream.”
She had been.
*
Walking the halls of the large castle, it seemed too quiet.
“Hello,” Pepper called out to no one in particular. “Where is everyone?”
She heard a close, rumbling growl and strained to see by the light of the chamber stick in her still bandaged hand. The growl became closer still. She turned to see a pair of glowing red eyes and froze in mid-step. A voice in her head then yelled at her to RUN AND RUN FAST! Danger is approaching!
Her candle suddenly revealed one of the most disgusting and disturbing sights she had ever seen. Deep within her she somehow knew…this was the demon who was the recipient of her skin, donated only a few months ago. It was larger than a man, gray in color, with black and brown spike-like, bony partitions sticking out from the gaps. A greenish-red pus-looking substance seeped from tiny holes where skin was stitched onto the corpse’s frame. What an abomination of her formerly beautiful, smooth, white skin!
The demon lunged forward, its huge, sharp, meat hook claws reaching out for her; its grotesque mouth opening wide. The last thing Pepper saw were three rows of dagger-like teeth as she fell back in fear, limb by limb being torn from her body.
*
Pepper, dehydrated, manages a single tear down her cheek. The nightmare was horrifying and she is thankful to have such a caring and dedicated friend by her side. In painful time, her body would repair itself, but would her mind?
Forever is a very long time.
ABOUT MARY PETENSTINE JACKSON
Mary has been writing since she was in elementary school. She has penned short stories and articles for P.E.T.S. Magazine, entered writing competitions and won a few times, as well as written a family history book filled with funny stories. She considers herself “a jack of all trades, but the master of none.” When she is not writing she enjoys: repurposing old items into something new, crafting, deep woods camping & hiking, swimming, reading, gardening, music, singing, playing with her grandkids and spending time with family. She has a wicked sense of humor and loves all things darker or horror related.
One of the best things about being a writer is making friends and connections in the writing community. Recently, I asked Jonathan Lambert of Jolly Horror Press to preview one of the stories in my upcoming collection Old Farmhouses of the North.
Some History
Jonathan has read my writing since the very beginning, back when When the Dead was the only work in my catalog. His book Gugga was reviewed by fellow writer Eloise J. Knapp in the same video as When the Dead. We’ve been friends and fans of one another since, though we’ve never met in person, as we live across the country!
When he reads my stories, he reads from a place of knowledge, knowing how much my storytelling has evolved over the years. Here’s what he had to say about ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’:
His Thoughts
“I couldn’t stop reading once I started. This one has some serious wheels … super elegant … terrifying … bizarre and wonderful … creepy as fuck. It disturbed me a little, which is super hard to do. How do you come up with this stuff?”
Jonathan Lambert, Editor, Jolly Horror Press
‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ is just one of ten short stories of speculative and quiet horror fiction in Old Farmhouses of the North, set for release in Fall of 2020.
😮 #amwritinghorror #writingcommunity #horrorfiction #speculativefiction #amwriting
