Monday, 20 February 2012

Pustula Peculiar by Lily Childs - February Femmes Fatales

Pustula Peculiar began life as a 100-word piece of flash fiction here on the weekly Prediction Challenge. I expanded it into an even more revolting tale for Daily Bites of Flesh 2011.

It's horrible, it's disturbing - and if you are the slightest bit sensitive and/or are tucking into your breakfast/lunch/supper then look away now. Zombies will do that, and this is a descent into their world.

As such, this comes with a freakin' huge WARNING...


It was all she could do not to swallow as they poured New Orleans’ finest Absinthe into her mouth. Labella convulsed as the fire water cauterized her gums. Ginger laughed. The pinks of his albino eyes prismed in the flickering light of swamp torches. He bent across Labella’s face and licked the fluorescent green liquid from her chin.

“Pretty, mmmnn.”

His friends grinned, treading awkwardly from foot to foot. Behind them, swaying to the rhythm of frantic drums the crowd moved as one, hypnotised by the beat, empty stares going nowhere. Ginger’s jaw tightened; his swagger less sure. Labella caught the drunken whiff of fear.

“As long as the drums play, mes jolis garçons, you are safe.”

Ginger limped sideways to reach for another bottle. Taking a swig he gazed at the dancing dead.

“More,” the woman called from her shackles. “I need more”.

She widened her mouth to accept the Absinthe. The excess ran in rivulets down her neck raising the skin in blistering welts. Labella took the full mouthful into her throat in a single, rasping gulp.

The men looked on. No more smiles, just pant-pissing terror as the drumming began to slow.

“Quickly,” they begged. “Do it now.”

One of them offered forth the bottle once again. Labella shook her head.

“That’s enough,” she said. “I’m ready. Give it to me.”

The alcohol blazed on Labella’s tongue. It was now or never. The money lay on the table; her price – even though she couldn’t use it. She glanced at the clan lumbering steadily towards the makeshift healing space. Time was running out. Despite her undead state Labella had just enough conscience for this one last job. She nodded at the boys to tie her down even tighter. The friends helped the trembling Ginger lay on top of the woman’s decaying body in a nonreciprocal 69 position, holding him down as he cried. With Ginger’s bare groin squashed against her breasts Labella turned her mouth to the phlebitis-ridden thigh. Once a doctor always a doctor, even if the methods had warped. Fighting hard not to tear at the flesh with rotting teeth she swabbed the pustules with her anaesthetised tongue. Probing into the blisters, forcing them to burst open in cloying lumps Labella sucked the suppurations dry.

“Run,” she slurred.

Ginger fell off her, sobbing; the others dragged him away. Still bound, Labella watched the heaving mob plunge through the trees after their prey. She listened for screams. Instead she heard the slamming of car doors and a screech of tyres. Moans of defeat rose then faded away as the disappointed left in search of sustenance.

Unable to move Labella felt her gut reflux, forcing the putrid content of her stomach back into her gullet as she succumbed to the ultimate stages of the change. With no control over her body Labella bucked in rabid frenzy until at last, her bindings fell loose. She was free. Her soul reborn. She sat up, hungry. 

And spat.

_________ The End _________

Bio: Lily Childs is the author of a growing number of short horror and dark fiction stories that have appeared online and in print. Watch out for the first volume of a new collection coming out on Kindle this Spring.

Horror Editor at Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers, Lily is also a Spinetingler Award 2011 nominee.

The first two short novellas in Lily's Magenta Shaman dark urban fantasy series are available to download from Amazon, with the third book planned for the summer of 2012. She is currently completing her first supernatural novel.

Lily Childs is a writer of horror, esoteric, mystery and chilling fiction.

If you see her dancing outside in a thunder storm - don't try to bring her in. She's safe.