TEST SUBJECT

Only two is what her doctor recommends for the new drug treatment, but two doesn’t work. It used to. Now, Kacie’s headaches seem to get worse each day, and the only thing she wants to do is stay in bed. She stares at the prescription bottle, turning it around with her fingers, re-reading the label over and over until she finally decides to open it. Kacie taps the pill bottle against her hand until two… three… four pills spill onto her palm. She looks in the mirror at her red, crying eyes and downs the pills. A few splashes of water to cool down her face, then Kacie walks out of the bathroom to crawl into bed with her boyfriend. 

***

“Oh, my God. How could she do this?” utters a voice that wakes Kacie out of the best sleep she’s had in years. Her eyes don’t want to open. She reaches for her boyfriend; her hand touches something warm and sopping wet. Her eyes spark open to see multiple police officers standing around with their guns aimed at her. She shouts her boyfriend’s name, but in the spot where his body should be are chewed meat chunks and blood. 

“No sudden movements, Ms. Quinn!” shouts an officer. 

Kacie has no idea why the police are in her room. “Where is my boyfriend?” 

“You’re squishing the rest of him in your hands right now,” says the cop holding a pair of handcuffs. 

The entire bed is soaked in blood and her boyfriend is nowhere to be found. She gazes at her bloody, shaking hands and screams. “You… you can’t possibly think I did this,” Kacie cries. 

“No one else has been in this apartment for the past two days, Ms. Quinn. When you failed to show up for work, we were called to do a courtesy check and we entered the premises with the key left under your mat.” The cop removes a handkerchief from her pocket and presses it against her nose. “Excuse me,” she coughs, “the smell of death became stronger the closer we got to the bedroom. When we came in, you were passed out, covered in blood and bits of human flesh; your partner, Sean, nowhere to be found, and a trail of bloody footprints leading to a vomit filled toilet.”

“Not to mention, this.” Another police officer adds, holding up a transparent bag with Sean’s head in it. 

She tries to remember everything from last night. All she can recall is taking her meds before going to bed. No way she killed her own lover—cut off his head and left nothing of his body— she isn’t capable of such violence. Behind the smile she puts on every day is a woman too sad and tired to go to work, let alone commit bloody murder. 

Handcuffs are attached to her wrists. The surreality kicks in once all the blood and claw marks on the floor and walls come into view. Yet, not a single memory of how it all happened. Her reflection appears in the mirror placed on her dresser. Dark blood stains her face all the way down to her feet. Her long brunette hair now resembles a harvest moon laced with bits and pieces of her dead boyfriend. The sight weakens her legs and renders her unconscious. 

***

Her thoughts are like scribbles on paper. Screams and cries of someone begging for their life ricochets off her skull. An eclipse takes place. A fire consumes an entire forest and burns the animals and the giant trees. It spreads down into the earth until it reaches her insides. Last night, she dreamt of lying in a bed of flowers, naked under a wool blanket, and eyes fixated on the rising sun. The animals cry and run aimlessly through the flames. Saturn comes down from the sky. She sees herself walking toward it, hand pointed to touch its whimsical rings. A crack forms in the massive planet. Raw hands reach out and blood gushes from the fissure. It floods her in a river; the hands pull her down into the dark depths. 

***

Faint mumbles from unknown voices cloud Kacie’s thoughts. She awakes not knowing when she last fell asleep nor where she is— a basement, with one window, handcuffed to a steel table. 

Two men walk into the room. “You’re finally awake,” speaks the one in the gray suit. 

A menacing pain settles in the back of her head. “Where… where am I? What is this?” She pulls on the cuff. 

“You’re at Alberta County Police Station, Ms. Kacie Quinn. We have to ask you a few questions.” 

“Wait… where is my law–” The pain grows worse. It’s like a hammer banging on her skull. “I… I need… I need my medicine, please.” 

The officers whisper in each other’s ears. One leaves the room while the other sits directly in front of Kacie, clipboard and pen in hand. He sets a voice recorder on the table. “We’ll get this started after you take your medicine. Agreed?” 

The pain creeps to her entire face, makes her eyes water and cheeks flush. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” 

The suit talks more, but Kacie can’t decipher any of the words. Her brain is screaming for its pills. Moments later, the other officer walks in; hands Kacie a styrofoam cup of water and her pill bottle wrapped in an evidence bag. Four pills wiped her memory, so this time she consumes three pills. Her medicine is taken away and thus begins the interrogation. The first question is asked, “do you remember what happened last night?” 

Kacie digs deep in her memory. Past the tragic events and terrible people she’s met, a little further along her worst childhood memories, and in the abyss known as her deepest, darkest secrets, yet she still can’t recall what happened. Sean… she misses him so much. She curses herself for not knowing what she could have done to him. She doesn’t want to believe it was her, but what other choice does she have? 

The detective insists the interrogation will go a lot faster if she cooperates. She is trying. The more time she spends lingering in the dark, her mind drifts into peace. This feeling she remembers. It came to her last night when… 

“Ms. Kacie!” the detective shouts.

She looks up to face him; though, her eyes meet something hideous and disturbing. What is this multi-armed creature with large bulging eyes, needle-sharp teeth, and raw, fleshy body staring at her? The monster stands up and waves its arms around. To her right, the other detective in the room is also replaced by an ugly beast. It creeps toward her, she jolts back when its slimy hand touches her cuffed wrist. The handcuff unlocks. Kacie falls back in her chair and crawls up against the wall. “Stay back! Stay back!” 

The door opens. Veiny humanoid beings enter the room and meet up with other ugly monsters. They’re speaking in gurgles and spit. Kacie runs for the open door, an elongated arm stops the door from closing. She turns around to them all, staring at her and closing in. “What are you?” she cries. Her anger spikes as they gang in on her. Something inside of Kacie breaks. Anger—an emotion she suppressed for years—returns and blackens her eyes. She pushes one down, climbs on top of it and scratches and rips off whatever she can. The other monsters try grabbing her with their inhuman appendages. She claws away at their flesh, ripping them to shreds with her bare hands. It feels so good to unleash so much aggression it puts a smile on her face. She can’t stop punching, cutting, scratching, and pulling them apart. 

Everything slaughtered, their bodies dismantled; now, she is hungry. She bends down to pick up the scraps of meat and eat them like a barbarian. Four holes form in the wall in front of her. She stares back at a creature pointing its rusty bladed arm at her. Kacie leaps at it. It hits her in the face. She grabs a fistful of flesh out of the monster’s leg, bringing it down to the floor. She pulls the blade arm until it rips from the socket, then stabs the creature repeatedly with it. It’s screaming and spitting at her. She keeps at it until the monster becomes minced meat. 

Kacie runs out of the room, kills anything that gets in her way. She makes it outside of the building and steps into a world with a navy blue sky streaked with motionless bodies, trees that have bark made of flesh, large red and white gems all over the streets, and hideous beasts walking around spitting and squirming. 

Kacie continues to run until she reaches an area surrounded by trees and human finger grass that crushes under her feet. Every direction looks the same. It’s overwhelming trying to figure out which is the way home. Her stomach hurts. She’s been running for so long, she must be sick. Kacie rests against a tree, rocks back and forth until her eyes become heavy. The silhouette of a man steps closer to her. 

“There you are,” he says. 

***

“Wh… where am I?” Kacie whines. She’s shivering from the cold. Metal blocks her and limbs from moving. 

“I told you exactly what to do.” 

“D… Doctor Norman?” Kacie swears she knows the voice. 

“I told you to only take two.” Kacie hears footsteps, then his face appears in front of her. His eyes are black as night and skin silver like fish scales. “Taking more than that will speed up the process, and I’m just not ready for that yet!” Dr. Norman slams on the table. “I have to put you in stasis now… with the others.” 

Kacie’s lips quiver. “The others?” 

A black window traps her in a vat. All she can do is scream as she’s transported out of the room. Through the foggy glass she sees large tubes that contain what looks like humans. “Please! No!” she screams. 

The container is stood up. Two people standing next to each other ignore her cries and walk away. Smoke expands in the vat and fills her lungs. Kacie no longer cares about the situation; only about closing her eyes. And when her eyes open again, the world is fiery and crimson. Dozens of other human bodies stand still like her, but some are able to walk around. Her eyes frantically search the area. None of their faces are familiar, except for one a few rows in front of her. Sad eyes she knows too well; her lover, Sean, wanders this wretched place. Her conscious yells his name, though her mouth can’t move.  

THE END

THE GREATEST MARIONETTE SHOW

Neo admires his art. He creates every puppet with intense passion and meticulous care. Unlike other puppeteers, his design is life-size puppets that depict actual humans because of his extraordinary artistic talent. He laughs at those who call their life’s work dummies—it’s only a representation of the puppet master and what they represent. 

He sits in his art studio painting the numerous dolls, contemplating how every idiot who shames him is unworthy of eyes. Neo never had a successful show. The amount of hours he puts in don’t equate to his cruel reviews, yet he continues to perform to the best of his ability. His assistant constantly tells him not to give up, and she’s right, though every newspaper or magazine article sometimes makes him regret ever picking the career.

Tomorrow night, the curtains will open for Neo again. After a month of preparing, painting every puppet and testing his machine, he’s confident in a grand show, or so he tries to convince himself. He knows the show needs something more, something spectacular! It has to be a show like no other in order for him to, finally, be in the public’s good graces. 

He sits down on his stool, adding a few final touches to his works. 

“I can make the show perfect for you, Neo.” The sound of a stranger’s deep voice startles him, knocks him over. “Who is that? How did you get in here?” he asks. 

A shadow casts over his studio light, and when he looks up, the tallest, most gruesome creature captures his eyes. It stands in the dark corner, beady eyes staring, and jagged teeth showing in its wicked smile. “Who—no, what are you?” 

It stomps closer to him. Neo tries to move, but his legs are stiff with fear. “What do you want?” he asks. “Just take it!” He shields his eyes, hoping the monster will go away. He thinks he might have been in the studio for too long, sniffed too much paint, and is hallucinating. 

“I know exactly what your show needs, Neo,” says a deep whisper once the footsteps stop.

The different voice strikes him as odd. He peeks over his arm and sees the light is no longer blocked and the creature is gone. “What the Hell, Neo? You’re more washed up than you thought.” He complains to himself.

A creaking sound coming from the puppet surprises him. His heart sinks down to his stomach and his skin turns cold when he sees it staring at him. “I don’t think you’re washed up at all,” says the puppet. 

“Did… did you just…” Neo can’t believe it. In a panic, he pushes the puppet down. It looks back at him with angry eyes. “This is madness!” he screams. 

“No. I’ll show you madness.” The marionette rises from the ground—taller than he built it—Neo stares in awe as the fingers he crafted dig into his chest. “I’ll show you a real puppet show.” It lifts Neo in the air, then rips apart the skin and flesh of his torso. 

***

Today is different for Neo. He’s woken up with no recollection of how he fell asleep. The last thing he remembers is working on his creations at the art studio. His eyes struggle to open, yet he’s not exhausted. The blurry image of a woman standing before him implies he’s never left his art studio and his assistant is taking care of things for him. She’s stuffing the puppets. He calls her name, but can’t move his mouth. He tries to get up, but every part of his body is numb. 

“Time to hang you up,” says an unrecognizable voice. The person in front of him turns around. It resembles a tall, gray blob, and it’s holding a puppet in his hand. It comes closer. Neo tries not to breathe, then recognizes he can’t do that either. He deems himself under sleep paralysis. 

The stranger comes closer to him and hangs up the doll right in front of him. In his mind, he’s screaming at the sight of his assistant’s face, and the fact she now has a hook going through her back. Then, he wonders if there’s one in his back too; they’re at eye level and she can’t seem to move either. 

“It’s almost time for the show, Neo.” The gray thing appears in front of him. Impossible for it to have so many eyes and teeth. He wants to awake from this nightmare. It lifts him in the air, then hoists him to the hooks connected to the machine he built to control his puppets. 

“How are you doing this? Stop, please!” begs Neo. 

“I promise, this will be the greatest show of your career.” 

A bright light shines in his face, the big red curtains open up, and there is the audience. Neo still can’t determine if he’s in a dream world. There are a few people sitting and waiting for the show to begin. But he doesn’t have his material. He can’t remember going over his lines. Suddenly, his body starts moving, and in ways he’s not telling it to. His arms are wiggling and legs dancing, and words he hadn’t thought of are pouring from his lips. The small crowd applauds, so he doesn’t mind. 

His body is in tune with the music, much smoother and better choreographed than he could remember, yet there’s a looming sense of despair wrapped around him. All the other puppets, familiar and strange faces, express sadness and anger, the only ones with smiles on their faces are the members of the audience. Neo tries to get a better look at those people, but his body won’t stay still. Whatever dream this is, he can’t wait to wake up from it. 

“Time for the grand finale!” shouts a voice from above. 

His body comes to a complete stop and faces the audience. The lights shut off, not a common feature of his shows, but he can’t move so he plays along. A red sparkle trickles down from above then explodes into fireworks, shining light on a miniature room with a person sitting down in front of a bunch of standing, black silhouettes. Before Neo’s eyes, the room becomes larger than him. “Wait… is that… me?”  

His bewildered eyes watch the dark, humanoid figures creep close to his doppelganger. “You all belong to me! I command you! Obey me…” his other self screams. But they don’t listen. They raise the weapons in their hands and start stabbing him… everywhere. Every stab, slice, and cut to the body pinches his soul. The nightmare is getting worse. He begs to wake up. His blood covers the walls and floor, the mannequins stand around him, laughing and holding hands while he coughs up blood. 

“What is this? What is happening?” He cries, in shock that he just watched himself die. 

A hideous creature appears in front of him, each mouth on every one of its gruesome faces moves, “you still don’t remember?” It laughs. “Keep watching.” 

“Remember? Remember what?” 

The show continues. The mannequins have a new marionette. “We’ll use this one,” they say. Neo wishes he could shut his eyes, or turn away from the horror of them prying his back open with their bare hands and pulling out his innards. They stuff his gut and organs into the puppet, and moments later, it comes to life.

 Neo watches in awe. 

“What have you done to me?” 

“We made you one of us. Now you’ll know what it’s like,” they say. 

A sinister laugh echoes. A black shadow consumes the room. “I… like… puppets… too.” The shadow becomes a tall monster. It stands in the corner, its beady eyes fixate on Neo on stage and in the room. 

The lights shut off again. A fire erupts where the room was. Figures appear in the flames, screaming and begging for the torture to stop—their bodies controlled by strings attached to long, clawed fingers. But they’re not asking for whatever evil to stop manipulating him, they’re asking Neo. Their cries are for him. He doesn’t yet understand until a rush of memories swarms him. The person he was before…

The monster shows its ugly, smiling face. 

Neo was obsessed with his marionettes, in an almost sick and disturbing way. They became everything to him; his children, his wives, his friends, and when he couldn’t deliver a perfect show, he blamed them. He hit them like they were living, breathing people. Neo tortured his puppets by hanging them, put the ones he hated the most in the incinerator, beat them until they broke, or purposefully made them ugly to represent people he despised in his real life. He was never good to them. 

“I can’t watch him do it anymore. How do I help him?” His assistant’s voice silences his thoughts.

“Assistant? What is this?” he asks. 

Memories that don’t belong to him reflect in the flames. 

She’s naked, rocking back and forth in the middle of a pentagram, candles and human skulls all around her. “I know how to help you, Neo. I’ll free you from the torment of your own mind,” she says. A hand comes out of the circle and grabs her face, pulls her into the ground as it climbs out—a deformed creature covered in blood and wandering eyes. It crept into Neo’s art studio and fulfilled the ritual Neo’s assistant called for. 

 “I’m… dead… I’m… dead…” Neo repeats. 

“Quite so!” laughs the monster staring down at him. “And you’ve inspired me, Neo, to make my own puppet show!” 

A smoke explosion consumes the entire area, then dissipates with the snap of a finger, unveiling the horrific world Neo lives in. The grand theater has become a fire pit where black-winged hellions roam around stabbing, hanging human bodies with their searing hot spears, throwing bodies in the flames, eating flesh—humans in cages that dangle above fire geysers, bodies falling from the sky and land on metal spikes, and it’s all orchestrated by the marionettist above who controls the strings with a menacing smile on its face. 

THE END