God it was tough going. I would scrape at the blackened soil and wean and
glean a few crumbs for the barrow. It is always such a pain when you hit a
lump of rock in such circumstances. Using the fork I loosened as much as I
could, digging round this painful obstruction to my progress. I must have
been levering at it when it seemed to split in two, and I thankfully lifted
the lump clear to heave it into the wheel barrow . It wasn't so much a rock
I had lifted, more like the cover of a cavity inside a rock. The contents
looked like a tiny shrivelled something, a dead monkey maybe. Black
shrivelled skin mottled with white mildew stretched over erupting pus
coloured bones.
Steph walked in behind me.
"Here we are Darling, another cuppa. What on earths that?"
I didn't wish her to see. Insistently she brushed past and stood by me
looking down at it.
"Urrr! That's disgusting." She gripped at my upper arm.
It was plainly a baby, but in life, something had been wrong with it. The
deformed legs showed deformed feet with fused toes. The half shut eyes
squinted back, but not eyes, just bottomless black holes. Beneath the eyes
was half a face with barely any jaw. Small and useless fingerless hands
seemed to reach upwards.
"Better get the police and I think I'm gonna be sick."
She turned, ran for the lavatory, and I could hear her spewing down the
bowl, spitting and moaning between each stomach spasm.
Within 20 minutes two policemen had arrived. They knelt down beside the hole
for minutes before Sgt. Wilson turned to me.
"Yup. I think it is murder. I don't think it is a new murder, but murder it
is. I've got to get forensics down here".
He pointed at something. Stretched round the neck of the infant was a slim,
twisted and knotted cord, cutting deeply into the dessicated tendon and
skin.
It had been a dramatic twenty four hours. I gazed down at the hole where the
body had been. They had dug the ground loose around it sparing my return to
scraping.
It had rained in the night and outside in the garden was the barrow I had
left the day before. I had just pushed it outside for space as people began
to arrive. For some reason the CID had left the stone where it was, maybe
forgotten in the ruction of photography and sampling. I was about to tip it
when I noticed something carved into the surface. Getting the broom I
brushed away the clay.
Crudely etched into the stone were the words:
"If this horror thou do see.
Then you will accursed be."
Somehow they didn't seem quite right, but contained within, a suggestion of
the sinister.
She hadn't seemed to be normal for a few weeks since the incident, and for
Steph, not looking after herself. But once again work had to come first, and
I was worried about her.
"What's the matter Steph? Your not still thinking about the fireplace
are you?"
"Just a little bit. I'll get over it. I'll be back as I want to be.
Don't fret so much."
"But you missed the hairdressers last week, and I've not known you do
that before. You havn't even done your nails." It was true,
she would often sit there on the settee, comfortably, gently filing them.
"I'm not sure Steph....." I began, but she interrupted me.
"I'm not Steph. I am Megan. Just being me, as I am, as I want to be.
It's OK. When you get back next month I'll be exactly as you wish me to be-
you know me, I'll make the effort."
When I got back I was shocked at the change. Her hair was matted and grey
and she obviously hadn't washed it during the weeks I had been away. She had
smeared black around her eyes and daubed bright red lipstick on her mouth.
She was still wearing the dress that was her favourite, that she had worn
when I left. Her hands were filthy and the long nails that she looked after
were broken and chipped and still had the varnish from weeks ago. The dirt
under them was apparent.
"Steph. What is the matter?"
"Nothing,nothing. Just being me, as I am and want to be. I'm not Steph, I
am Megan the witch. But I have made myself some new clothes and I'll wear
them tomorrow for you." She smiled at me. The yellow misshaped stumps of
her teeth showed themselves for the first time
"Oh God Steph. What have you done to your teeth?"
"Nothing .Nothing Just as I want them to be, just as I am. Pulled some out,
filed 'em- don' you like me more?"
She reached down and lifted her dress. then thrust her fingers into herself
and began to masturbate . "Will you be a wizard for your witch? Come and
suck my juice. Come and suck Megan. It's my month. I am cursed. Come and
suck your harlot."
She withdrew her blood stained fingers and carefully wiped them in her hair.
"Ok. Ok." she said. "Tomorrow will be different. I give in. I'll have a bath
and everything. Wash my hair. Do my face for you so I look nice. I am Megan,
but I want to be dreams for my captive man. I want you to eat and pleasure
me. Promises."
"Give me an hour. I'm going to sort myself out for you. You will love me
when I come out I promise. You needn't get the doctor to me. I'll be fine."
She locked the door behind her and I could hear the water running. I busied
myself in the house sorting out the neglect. I was sure the Steph would
emerge. I could smell the wisps of perfume drifting in from under the
door. Just like Steph. From time to time I could hear a little moan, maybe
of pleasure.
"Are you alright Steph? " I called.
"Yes I am fine. Turning myself into your woman so you can screw me muchness.
I've done my face. I am doing my eyes now. You will love my creation."
"Nearly done, almost ready and I'm coming out."
I really wanted to see the old Steph appear in the new clothes she had made.
The door slowly opened and I gazed in horror at the apparition. The tight
fitting leather top barely covered the breasts. She wore a course hessian
skirt, maybe that of a medieval peasant. From the area below her eyes she
had de-fleshed her face. She had carved away her nose, her cheeks, mouth,
sliced herself to peel it all away. Instead of eyes, two black gaping empty
sockets stared at me. She had matted her hair with the blood. Some madness,
maybe Megan, had gripped her mind. I immediately thought of the faceless
baby. She reached out for me with fingerless bleeding hands and spat her severed
tongue at me in a shower of blood.
She tried to gurgle something to me.
And at that moment she collapsed.
t was several weeks before the funeral could be held. The police again
visiting the cottage when she died in front of me. I had tried to clean up
later but the task was too upsetting, and in the end I gave up. I had to
wait for the inquest, but eventually it was over dutifully recorded as open.
The official account barely passed notice in the newspapers. Bled to death
as a result of self mutilation. Just another case of mental illness and
strain.
Tags: PART4
