Intestines
By Patrick O’Donnell
Regina knew what she had to do. The air was thick with the smell of confectionery treats. Carnival music bellowed through the wind. Regina sees up ahead what she is looking for. A cheap looking carnival tent stands in the middle of the festivities. It is being overlooked by all the patrons of the fair. A shoddy wooden sign is out front. It reads: Madame Blanc’s House of Spirits. Regina knows that what she needs is just past the dark velvet curtain that drapes in front like a soft waterfall of blood. As she steps into the tent, it is as if she has been transported to another world. In the center of the tent there is a small round table. Atop it is all the cliches one would expect to find. A crystal ball sits upon a crown of thorns over a velvet table top. The shelves that line the tent are adorned with trinkets from the macabre, the usual junk one would see in any spooky movie: plastic skulls, rats in jars of formaldehyde.
A woman emerges from the back as if on cue. Her voice heavy with a fake Romanian accent. “Welcome to Madame Blanc’s house of spirit’s! I am Madame Blanc. And you are?” She reaches her hand out. Her long dress jingles and shakes with all of it’s spirit bells. Regina looks her over. Madame Blanc has a sweet smell to her. The kind you find on older women in church basements.
“My name’s Regina.” She finally breaks the tension and shakes Madame Blanc’s hand. It’s dry, and cold, and Regina begins to doubt herself for the first time this trip.
“Have a seat my doll. I can tell something is troubling you.” Regina pulls up a chair and Madame Blanc takes a seat on the opposite side. “Now Regina, I will look into my crystal ball and conjure up your future. Then we will see what the spirits have to tell us.” The tent begins to fill with cheap smoke. A quick glance reveals a smoke machine in the corner with a wire running out of the tent.
“Enough of this shit, I have real problems and I know you can help.”
Madame Blanc pauses before dropping her fake gypsy accent to reveal the rough and worn voice of a lifetime smoker. “First off, that is rude. Please don’t use that kind of language in my tent. It’s disrespectful. Secondly, I have real problems to, but how do you figure I can help you?”
Regina looks down. With a cracked voice she tries to compose herself. “I’m sorry, I am having one of those awful, well, lives. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just have done a lot of research and it all led me here. He made me get an abortion.”
Madame Blanc starts coughing uncontrollably. “Excuse me, Regina you said it was? I don’t think I’ll be able to help you with that. I feel like you should go to the police. Do you mind if I smoke?” Regina nods in approval. Madame Blanc lights up her cigarette and the tent fills with acrid smoke.
“It wasn’t a literal forcing. We were dating. I thought it was going well. I got pregnant because he insisted in, well I won’t get into it. Anyway, when he found out about the pregnancy he said the only way he would stay with me is if I did that. He broke up with me the day after. I can’t even stand myself right now, and there is no way I can let him get away with it. I know what you do. I know you can talk to her. I know you can summon their powers. Please help me.”
Madame Blanc takes a long exaggerated puff of her cigarette before blowing smoke in Regina’s direction. It could be a trick of the eye but Regina would swear she saw smoke take the shape of a skull. “Lenny, take a smoke break.” A large man with little hair pulls back a flap of curtain and disappears outside of the tent.
“How long has he been there?” Regina asks embarrassed.
“Long enough for you to almost blow my cover” replies Madame Blanc.
Madame Blanc pulls off her wig. Placing it beside her reveals the short and unkempt hair underneath. Regina tries not to stare as the women in front of her slowly becomes unrecognizable. “I hate all this hocus pocus bull, it’s so impractical. I prefer the real dark arts. Now before I can help you, who told you what I am and what I can do?”
Regina feels a tug of loyalty. “I don’t know if I should say. Can I just tell you it’s a safe person?”
Madame Blanc shrugs her shoulders. “ I guess I shouldn’t worry too much. Promise me this though, you do not tell anyone about me. If what we are going to do works, you never mention me, you don’t thank me, you don’t acknowledge me.”
Regina nods. “So you will help me?”
Madame Blanc puts out her cigarette. The smoke rises out of the crushed stump and swirls around the top of the tent. “I do not control the dark one. She only hears my cries for justice. What I do can not be undone. What I do cannot be predicted. Do you still wish to continue?”
Regina thinks hard. All the good times she had with him slowly burning away leaving only a gnawing pain. A pain she wants him to feel just as badly as she does. “I am sure, please, do your worst.”
Madam Blanc leans back her head. “What is his name? Don’t tell me with your words, write it on this piece of paper.” Without looking Madam Blanc hands her a small piece of white paper and a quill that she seems to get as if out of thin air.
Regina feels a chill run up her spine as she takes the quill. “ I have no ink, what will I write with…” she doesn’t finish the sentence. Her ink shall be blood, she knows the answer as if telepathically. The quill plunges into her arm breaking the skin and hitting oil. Red blood pools around the quill, and seems to rise up into the feathers themselves as they turn from black to crimson. She writes his name on the paper and hands it back to Madame Blanc. The paper goes into her mouth, and she catches it on her tongue like a precious snowflake. The paper burns blue and is gone. “Leave now child, and rest knowing you shall be avenged.” Regina thanks Madame Blanc, her heart feels lighter as she leaves the tent. The world stops, and she realizes that it is dark out now. Looking down at her phone she can’t believe she lost so much time.
David is lounging on his couch with the catch of the day. Her blue eyes staring at him through a sea of blonde hair. She is a gymnast. Her body shows this as she stretches with a big yawn. A signal that David cares little for. “Hey, I know it’s late and we just met but why don’t you stay the night?”
She looks him over. Her body is driving him crazy. She puts a finger on his nose and flicks it in a flirtatious way. “How about this, if you can tell me my name, I’ll spend the night and you can see how flexible I am.”
David can’t believe his luck. Just then he realizes, he can’t remember her name. Taking a stab in the dark he blurts out the first name he can think of. “I know your name, of course, I do, Stephanie.” Stephanie stretches out putting her feet in his lap. “Alright lover boy, looks like you win. I think I’ll go back to the bedroom and get comfortable. Why don’t you get drinks?” He watches as she walks to the back room.
Walking to the kitchen, David feels as if he has won the lottery. Behind him, he hears a voice calling his name. “I’ll be right there babe. Just give me a second.” Stephanie shouts back that she didn’t say anything. David shrugs and starts rooting around his cabinet to find the hardest liquor he can find. Finding it he starts walking back to the bedroom. The whole apartment has a modern sheen to it. Hardwood floors and blank white walls. David has no art up, no decorations. The entire place is cold and devoid of feelings. Walking past the bathroom David can swear he see a face. He stops and looks into the mirror. Nothing was there but David starts to feel uneasy. The shower curtain was covering the bathtub. He could have sworn he had pulled it back. He walks over and slowly peels it back. Nothing is there either. David opens the liquor bottle and takes a swig. He is not sure why, but he feels as if someone is watching him.
He stops at the bedroom door to look at his prize. She looks up from her phone to greet him. She has the blankets pulled up to cover herself. David can see she is already naked. “I have to go to the bathroom, where is it?” she asks. David is confused why she didn’t look for it while he was getting drinks.
“There is one just through that door.” David points in an annoying way to the door on the opposite side of the bedroom. She takes the blanket with her as she walks. David tries to catch a glimpse of her naked body. He hears a voice coming from down the hall. David glances over at the bathroom. “There is no way anyone else could be in here,” he thinks to himself. Wanting to be cautious, just the same, David decides to go check the door. Walking past the other bathroom he hears a sound like water dripping. “The fuck, I was just in there.” David enters the bathroom. It's walls an offset color of sea blue. Everything where it should be, except the damn shower curtain. David feels his chest tighten. He knows for sure this time he had opened it. Cautiously he peels back the curtain to reveal a women floating in the tub holding something in her arms. Her skin is bloated and white. Black hair is matted to her face and her eyes are closed. David gasps and reaches out his hand to touch her. In his mind, he knows that it has to be that he just had too much to drink. Her skin is cold and clammy. When his hand touches her, the eyes slowly open. He begins to recognize her. “Oh my god, Stephanie, I, I, I’m so sorry.”
Her mouth begins to open. “Our baby David.”
He looks down at what she is holding. “Is that our baby? What have you done?” He tries to reach out but she vanishes and he falls into an empty tub. “What the fu..” he mumbles. David picks himself up, and tries to calm down. His heart is pounding and he can feel his hands shaking. He grabs the sides of the sink for balance. Turning on the water he splashes it on his face. He keeps doing that until the water became warm and sticky. Looking down he realizes it isn’t water. Red crimson blood, pouring of his sink. David falls backward hitting his head on the wall as he falls. Collapsing onto the floor David begins to rock back and forth. “You can’t be real, none of this is real. I’m a good person. You can’t do this to me.”
David attempts to stand up, and is successful. He walks to the bedroom limping. He had hurt his leg in one of the many falls he took. When he gets to the bedroom, the lights are off. He can just barely make out the shape of a woman. She is humming, and David stops for a second to hear the soft melody. “Stephanie, I need to tell you something.” He is cut off by her telling him to shush. “You have to be quiet David, our baby is sleeping.” David’s whole body freezes. “What are you saying. We don’t have, we haven’t even slept together yet.” Stumbling through the dark he finds the light switch.
Red, red is all David can see at first. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, Stephanie, it’s all bathed in red. She is sitting in the center of the bed cradling her intestines. The gash that she cut running from one side of her waist to the other. She is rocking back and forth cradling her innards as if it was a baby. Her mouth is covered in blood as she repeatedly kisses what she is perceiving to be the head of the child. “It just needs to have the umbilical cord cut. Now where did I put those damn scissors. Would you like to cut the cord? I think we should name the baby Steven.”
David rushes over to her. “No, don’t cut the cord. It’s not a damn baby, it’s you. It’s a part of you.” He isn’t fast enough. She pulls out the pair of bloody scissors and begins cutting. She dies as David in vain attempts to resuscitate her.
David begins to scream out in pain and fear. The neighbors becoming concerned by the screams call the cops. When they show up David is in the corner mumbling to himself. His body slick with blood. The gymnast from the night before sprawled out on the bed. Cut marks and stab wounds litter her body as her entrails lay out next to her. The pair of scissors she used is now on the floor. David tries to explain what happened to the cops. They can’t see past all the red.
Six Months Later
Regina is watching the news. Ever since visiting Madame Blanc her life has progressed normally. Regina isn’t sure what she was expecting if anything at all. David had become a distant memory, a fleeting thought. She was thankful for that at least. She gets up to get herself a cup of tea. The news is white noise until the reporter begins talking about something she recognizes. The clean-cut reporter in a coat is standing outside of a courtroom talking into a microphone. His voice professional and devoid of feeling. “Justice was served today as David Bridger was convicted of homicide. David had killed his date one night six months ago with a pair of scissors in a crime that officials are calling the most gruesome murder this town has ever seen. David will be put in a high-security prison for life. At last things can go back to normal.” Regina takes a sip of her tea and smiles.
