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BLOODY REJUVENATI​ON: By Joshua Scribner

Monday, March 28th, 2011

“Where am I?”  Jerry asked.
 
One second he had been naked on the bed, waiting for a beautiful woman.  Now he lay in darkness.  The floor below him angled slightly.
 
The voice of a man answered his question with a question.  “Were you picked up by an attractive woman?”
 
Attractive was an understatement.  She was blond and had a huge chest, like a woman from a fantasy novel.
 
“Yes,” Jerry answered.
 
The man immediately stated more questions.  “Did she get you in her car, ask you how old you were, and then ask if you were a virgin?” 
 
“Yes,” Jerry replied.
 
“And what did you tell her?” asked the man.
 
Jerry hesitated.  He was embarrassed.

The man said, “Listen, you can tell me.  My name is Wayne.  I’m thirty-one and live with my Mom.  I’ve never even touched a girl’s boobs.”
 
Hearing that, Jerry felt like he could tell this stranger the truth.  He said, “I told her nineteen and that yes, I was a virgin.”
 
Jerry had never even dated a girl.  As far as he could tell, none had really liked to look at or speak to him.  That’s why he had been stunned by the stares of the girl in the coffee shop.
 
“There’s one more guy here, but he’s asleep” Wayne said.  “His name is Matt.  He’s a fifty-year-old priest.”
 
“Wow!” Jerry exclaimed.  “She seduced a priest.”
 
“Yeah, I know.  He’s pretty screwed up over it.  He says he’s normally pretty repulsive to the opposite sex and had never really been that tempted.  Then she came into the picture.”
 
They were quiet for a few seconds, and then Wayne asked, “Did she get you to wear the blindfold too?”
 
“Yeah,” Jerry responded.  “I mean, I was just . . .”
 
“I know,” Wayne kindly interjected.  “You wanted to do whatever she said, just so she’d go through with it.” Wayne smirked.  “I vaguely remember smelling something odd before waking up here.”
 
Now that Wayne had mentioned it, Jerry thought he could recall the odd scent too.  They had been drugged, probably with chloroform.
 
“How long have you been here?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but the priest was here before me.  I don’t think I was here more than a day before they dropped you in.”
 
“Dropped?”
 
“Yeah.  There’s some kind of hatch above.”
 
Jerry got to his feet, almost falling down the slope. “Does the entire floor slope down?”
 
“Yeah, on all sides.  There’s a small hole in the center, like a drain.”
 
Jerry was afraid to move around too much in the dark.  “Have you tried to find a way out?” he asked.
 
“Yeah,” Wayne responded.  “But I ended up cutting myself.  Two of the four walls are covered with spikes.”
 
Jerry got a mental picture of what he’d just heard described.  It caused his heart to race and his stomach to hurt.
 
“Holy crap!” Jerry exclaimed.  “Why have we been brought here?”
 
“I don’t know, dude,” Wayne responded in a disheartened tone.
 
Just then, there was noise below like a door opening, and then a small beam of light appeared.
 
“It’s coming in from the drain,” Wayne said.
 
Jerry crept toward the light, got down on the floor, and looked down.  The light stung his unadjusted eyes, but he kept looking.  He only saw a blur below, but he heard a familiar voice.
 
“This is disgusting, Mother,” said the girl he’d met at the coffee shop.  “Are you sure it will even work?”
 
The next voice spoke with a strange accent.  It sounded like something from an old vampire movie.  “My beautiful daughter, I am four-hundred and forty-eight years old.  Tell me, am I still radiant?”
 
“Of course, Mother, but it is my first time, and I am nervous.”
 
His eyes were seeing better now.  Through the small hole he saw the first naked woman he had ever seen in person.  She was standing below.
 
Both he and Wayne remained quiet, but the priest started to moan, as if having a bad dream.
 
The girl’s mother said, “You need not be afraid.  After I faked my death in the old country, I started refining my methods.  Back then, I used virgin girls.  Then I learned that virgin males were better.  Twenty years ago, I found that one-hundred trips around the sun was the magic number and was able to restore myself to child-bearing years and have you.  Now trust me, my dear, when you are finished, your aging process will slow to almost nothing.”
 
Jerry remembered the ages of the other two men.  The numbers added up.  He was a nineteen-year-old virgin, Wayne was a thirty-one-year old virgin, and the priest was a fifty-year-old virgin.  That totaled one hundred virgin trips around the sun.
 
“I do trust you mother,” said the girl.  “Let’s start my shower.”
 
Jerry heard the girl’s mother laugh and say one last thing.  “We Báthory women will live forever and always be beautiful.”
 
The priest must have awakened, because he stopped moaning and started whimpering.  There was an electronic sound and then a mechanical sound.
 
“The walls are closing in!” Wayne shouted.
 
Jerry moved around frantically, cutting himself on the spikes a couple of times.  He screamed and begged for their lives as the walls closed in.  It was all in vain.  The young woman would have her bloody shower.

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©2011 Joshua Scribner

Joshua Scribner is the author of the novels Mantis Nights, The Coma Lights and Nescata.  His fiction won both second and fifth place in the 2008 Whispering Spirits Flash Fiction contest.  Up to date information on his work can be found at joshuascribner.com.  Joshua currently lives in Michigan with his wife and two daughters.

INVISIBLE WOUNDS: By Joshua Scribner

Monday, May 3rd, 2010

Joe sat downstairs, in the family room, using his laptop to roam the internet, thinking about which was a better song, “Sympathy for the Devil” or “Question.”  It seemed like good enough a thing to think about.
 
Amy came down the stairs, didn’t look at him, sat at the PC, said, “I want you to hear this song.  A guy at work turned me onto it.  I can’t get it out of my head.”
 
“Okay,” Joe replied.
 
Amy played it.  A man sang in a distorted voice.  It wasn’t a bad tune, kind of bluesy.  The lyrics were very hard to decipher, and Joe was surprised Amy liked it.
 
Amy tried to force a casual expression.  “It’s called ‘Grounds for Divorce.’”
 
That helped make sense of everything.  Had the cycle shifted?  He thought it probably had.
 
#
 
Joe woke up late the next day and trudged down the hall, thinking of which was a better song, “The Pot,” or “Falling Away.”  It seemed like good enough a thing to think about.  He saw his daughters on the living room couch.  They wore frowns like weights. 
 
“Mom’s in a bad mood,” said Randi, the younger, but bolder one. 
 
Joe sighed.  “Where is she?”
 
“Downstairs.”
 
Joe aimed himself toward the steps, but on the way, looked by the backdoor.  Nothing was there yet.
 
He found Amy at the PC, talking into her cell phone.  She looked at him with utter disappointment and said, “Gotta go.  I’ll call you later, and we can all hang out.”
 
She looked away from him, placed the phone on the desk and swiped at the monitor screen.  “There’s so much dust.  It’s no wonder I’m always coughing.”
 
Joe sat.  “Going out with friends tonight?”
 
“Oh yeah,” she said in a voice thick with spite. 
 
“People from work?”
 
“Yup.  I got to get out of here.”
 
Joe nodded, though she wasn’t looking at him.  He just sat there for a while, thinking if there was something he could say, something that would get him out of what he had to do, but knowing there probably wasn’t. 
 
Amy smirked. 
 
Joe said nothing, refusing to take the bait. 
 
After a few seconds, Amy giggled. 
 
He gave in, just as he always did. “What?”
 
“Oh, I was just thinking about a couple of things people told me at work.  Kendra said if my hair gets any brighter, I’ll be cuter than Britney Spears.  Chuck said my butt look so good he could eat off it.”
 
Joe fought back a sigh.  “Getting a lot of complements?”
 
“Oh yeah, a ton.  Some for my work and some for my appearance.”
 
“Good.  You deserve it in both regards.”
 
Amy was silent for a while.  He didn’t think she knew how to handle his comment.  She finally said, “How are Randi’s grades?”
 
“Down,” Joe responded.  “But acceptable.”
 
Amy sighed.  “I don’t know why I ask.  I don’t want to think about that.  Nor do I want to think about how filthy this house is.  I just want to think about going out tonight.”
 
Joe thought of telling her about how he’d done five loads of laundry, dusted and vacuumed all of the floors within the last two days.  He knew it would do no good.  He stood, then crept upstairs.  The shadow waited at the back door. 
 
Joe nodded, and it, having human form, nodded back. 
 
“How long?” Joe whispered.
 
It raised two fingers.
 
“Weeks?”
 
It shook its head.
 
“Months?”
 
It nodded.
 
Joe cringed.  That was too long to bear.  He had to stop her.  He held out his arm.  The shadow ran a hand over it.  All of the scars came into view.  The shadow brought down its head and took a big chunk of flesh.
 
Joe managed not to scream outward, but screamed inside.  The shadow moved its hand over his appendage, and the damage was no longer visible.  He just felt it.
 
The shadow went out the back door.
 
“Everything okay now?” said Randi from behind him.  She had never said as much, but he suspected she could see the entity too.
 
“Yes,” Joe responded.  “Fine.”
 
He went downstairs, found Amy crying. 
 
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
 
“Chuck just sent me a mean instant message.” Amy got up and ran into his arms.  “I just want to stay here tonight.  You guys will be nice to me.”
 
“Of course we will,” Joe responded, feeling her press against the newest invisible wound.
 
He thought of which he liked better, “Life Wasted,” or “Heart Shaped Box.”

__________________

©2010 Lori Titus

Joshua Scribner is the author of the novels Mantis Nights, The Coma Lights and Nescata.  His fiction won both second and fifth place in the 2008 Whispering Spirits Flash Fiction contest.  Up to date information on his work can be found at joshuascribner.com.  Joshua currently lives in Michigan with his wife and two daughters.