The room was stiflingly hot; a warm, wet heat that seemed to ooze over everything. The air in the room pulsed sluggishly in time with the rhythmic sounds in the connecting room. The yellow light from the bare electric bulbs hanging from the mouldy ceiling flickered weakly, shining through the foggy glass in bursts. The wiring was going bad, eaten away by rats and time. The building was old and she was the only one left – her and the children.
With care she took the edges of her evening costume and slipped inside. It clung tightly to her body, pressing muscles and bones together into a new shape. Everything depended on her success tonight but she had faith in her new appearance. Suitably attired, the pale woman sat at her vanity, peering into the murky mirror. Quick fingers applied the necessary paints and perfumes, covering any imperfections – any wrinkles, shadows, rips or tears. She must be perfect.
Deep red was smeared on her lips. Red like her hair, arranged to fall low over her smoke coloured eyes, tumbling over her right shoulder. Red like her nails, which curved just a little too long over the tips of her fingers. Everything else was black. Reaching behind, her arms contorting in one smooth movement, she zipped up the back and pulled the dress into place.
She stood, rolling her neck and shuddering as she settled into the new skin. Double-jointed jaws clicking, the muscles and bones stretched the pale skin of her cheek before settling into place. Beneath her crimson lips, rows of tiny sharp teeth were hidden. She ran a rough tongue over the blunt human ones in front; three wobbled and a molar on the right jaw was chipped: the result of the single powerful punch she had given the previous owner. Pity. She hated damaged goods.
The sounds from the other room were louder now. Unhappy. Crickity-crick-crick! Crickity-crick-crick! The children were awake. The Mother unlocked the door to their den and opened it a crack, letting a sliver of flickering light illuminate the contents.
The children – her poor, beautiful children – were awake. Barely fifty of them left and none of them healthy. All thin and malnourished, wrinkled abdomens a dull grey. Some were malformed, with missing or twisted limbs; some were blind, swivelling their blunt heads to blink their many white eyes in her direction. The clicking sounds intensified. All of them were hungry.
The body of her last paramour was all but gone – broken into pieces, marrow sucked from the bones, her children had gorged themselves but there was no more. It was time for her to find another lover.
With a frayed advertisement ripped from a local paper clutched in her hands, The Mother left the building, whispering that she would return soon – with company.
"LADIES NIGHT AT THE VIPER PIT - EVERY WEDNESDAY!"
YOU ARE READING
Roads To Hell: A Horror Anthology
HorrorA collection of horror short stories and flash fiction. Alex is awakened by the sound of a dog barking from inside his house, but he doesn't own a dog. Three boys find a body in a New Mexico national park. Four hikers become lost in the most notorio...
