By Rachel Wade
“Beauty provokes harassment, the law says,
but it looks through men's eyes when deciding what provokes it.”
(Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth)
Cook, was his name. A charming and hardworking, young man of 24 who got engaged to his lovely wife Elizabeth Mae Cook a week
ago. Now if it wasn’t for Elliot’s job as a chief investigator they would already be on their way to Paris, France
for their honeymoon but that’s not what happened, unfortunately. He is in charge of investigating unusual circumstances
that people call in to the police station, so getting away from that is like trying to take away a dog from a deer carcass.
had been dragged into a case that the people had been begging him to investigate for 2 months now. Young women, of 20 to 25,
have been going missing left and right, the predator preferring newlywed females. This case was the last one he would want
to ever look into. Just imagining the actions taken against them. Who knows what the criminal could be performing.
Night surround his car and his
headlights pushed away the dark. The engine of his car rumbled to a halt. The driver’s long muscular legs stepped out
of the car hesitantly making their way to the crumbling building. A chilled breeze clung to the back of his boney neck like
a leech finding fresh blood. His dusty black hair intertwined with cobwebs that call this rotten place home. The old decaying
barn whispered to its visitor, the wind howling through the holes in between the once straight planks. Above the barn, the
sky cloaked itself with dreary clouds
crying tears of agony, banging against the tin, rusty, roof. Crates sat in scattered stacks
of towers creating a maze for the dusty haired man. His hazel brown eyes darted back and forth wherever his flashlight shined
hoping to discover no movement. The tips of his fingers slid his keys into his pocket. As the keys slipped in his index finger
tracing over the name Elizabeth.
As he followed the trail, his
flashlight revealed a pathway leading downwards. His ring finger gently traced the wooden walls as he stepped down, his hand
glided down the frigid brick walls of the barn’s basement.
steps groaned whenever his dark grey boots trudged on top of them, as if they were sick. An echo of the wind slamming the
door shut above him sent a jolt up his skeleton, starting from his ankles and caused the flashlight to dash out of his hands.
His muscles tensed.
He shrieked as his knees fell quickly to the soil
covered lumber. Callused hands fumbled across the dirty floorboards in search of the hand-held safety he let go of. The beating
of his heart thumped inside his neck thickly, his breathing became more prevalent with every pump.
“Where is it?!” He whispered harshly to himself, short of breath.
The frantic breath subsided and he sighed in relief, firmly gripping the cylinder object in
his left hand. As he tightened his grasp he came to find that the handle of his flashlight had become rubber-like and cold.
With a large inhale his feet lurched him backwards. His eyes widened to the size of moons as his hand stumbled across the
light, shooting it in the direction of the thing he had touched. The light revealed a woman with once lively eyes now froze
open. Her face, cut on both sides in an upwards direction to widen her jaws, a gaping black hole of a mouth. Her iris purple,
floral patterned, dress had been torn and stained with red splatters in various places across her body. The once crystal blue
eyes were now lifeless as they stared into oblivion. Her body laid there without an opinion. Without a voice. Victimized.
What kind of creature or… or human for that matter could do something like this?
The young man’s eyes
released droplets of salty water that raced into the corners of his mouth to hide. As he looked up through his watering eyes,
words were written above in red ink from the dead lady’s veins.
His thoughts were interrupted by the fearful touch of claws crawling under his ivory skin. The sharp nails and the
tracing the small of his back sent miniscule pricks throughout his spinal cord. The five-daggered rake was attached to a body
invisible to the average eye. Something stirred behind him he could feel it… but every time his hair swished one way
or the other to glance behind him… Nothing visible was there.
His face plastered with the emotion of Medusa’s victims. The man’s feet shuffled backwards towards the
icy brick wall. He had seen too much. His once innocent hazel eyes had seen the nightmare’s that were only in his head.
The dead woman with a cavernous mouth and life-sucked eyes. The catcall of a message above her head… Her dress tattered.
Her lifeless expression…
With a deep wisp of breath the man’s tall and slim cut body tumbled backwards. He expected the floor to support
him but his expectations were not met. His cumbersome arms and legs fell weak as his vision grew black around him. Darkness
slithered up the sides of the hole, the top of it traveling to faraway places. The thick pounding in his neck grew fast-paced
as the opening disappeared from view and his body began to tremble.
A loud exclamation echoed through the hollowed hole as his body hit on the cold, squished, dirt. Lungs deprived of
oxygen. Eyes unfocused. As he sucked in another breath his eyes refocused on his surroundings. There were piles of something.
What were the piles made
Slowly he sat up, his hand sinking into a chasm of rotting flesh. He retracted from the rotted stomach he
slipped into. Women’s dead decaying bodies lay sprawled out around the floor. Laying in distorted angles that aren’t
humanly possible. As the man’s fearful eyes glanced around the room he found words above him on the wall. There were
written lines that he has only heard on the streets. Lines spoken to his wife when sitting down for a cup of coffee together.
You look fine today,
Look at those legs.
You got a great pair of-
The man’s thoughts tumbled into a spiral of building
anger. His hands shook as he stood. A ripping sensation mangled his stomach. The hazel eye’s slowly made their way behind
him in the back of the hole. They landed to see a mesmerizingly beautiful woman with the face of a young child on their death
bed, tied to the wall in thick barn rope. Her body limp and delicate. Hanging. A dark figure stood in front of her with a
glistening sharp object in his hand. The man’s heart grew black as his eyes overflowed with fear and agony.
With an outstretched hand he screeched, “Elizabeth!”