Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction

Bones- a modern tale. By kelly ornsby

Greasy strands of hair fall in my eyes as I stare into the mirror. My eyes, a dull lifeless blue, are outlined by black shadows smudged beneath them. I stand before my reflection, cheek bones hollow, in nothing but my underwear. Behind me I see inky black tendrils of smoke lace into my hair. I look away from the mirror. The tendrils form fingers and grab onto my face, snapping it back. Pointed claws dig into the hollows of my cheeks, drawing blood with their pinprick grip. A body forms behind me and my eyes begin to water. The shadow seems to pulse, tendrils twirling towards my ceiling. It looms over me staring at me with burning embers for eyes. A hard sting erupts across my face as its hand is brought across it. My body crumples and it yanks me up by my hair, violently throwing me into the bathroom. My head rebounds off the tiled walls and my ears ring. Its slimy lips twist into a smirk as it forces its talons down my throat. The burn of acid eats at the back of my tonsils and stings my nostrils. The toilet flushes. When I look back in the mirror it still stands next to me, its eyes solely trained on my face. It runs its finger down the side of my face and I feel blood trickle over my lips. As I stare into the mirror I notice my overhanging belly and the way my thighs are covered in stretch marks. We look together at my how my rolls fall onto each other, its fingers pinch and prod at my pale skin, pulling. It shrinks down next to me and its skin turns ashen grey. Blonde greasy hair tied back in a bun, a few strands escaping falling in its eyes. Its legs are none existent, its collar bones crevices in its shoulders. A sack of bones. I cry. Bones smiles.

I knew from the beginning that I was playing a dangerous game. I knew since the day bones appeared I would end up here. Surrounded by white and a tube stuffed down my throat pumping fat into me every time I swallowed. The distinctive beep of the heart monitor could never be drowned out, forever reminding me that there was no escape, grounding reality. She was always there. Watching me and with each swallow she crumpled in pain. Howls and screams escaped her lips as whimpers escape mine. The thing is I can’t beat this. I feel sick as I feel the liquid gloop hit my stomach. Tendrils lace around the tube under my nose. With a singular grunt it’s ripped away.

I hear the flat line of the heart machine, a drone that echoes far away from my unconscious ears. I learned to accept this fate. As the lights flicker, I see her. Bones. She dances in the chaos that is my death and laughs as my last breath fills my lungs. She always wins.

see more submissions for the Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction click here