The Truth-Telling Jacket

Greetings, humans. I’ve taken a page out of HRH’s book (if you’ve yet to meet that kitty, you should swing by She Who Seeks). I’m Magaly’s Muse. “She is sleeping right now. Shh!” You might not know this, but my Writer is disgusted by the news. Moi? I am obsessed with it. So… while she slumbers, I surf through real reports that taste disturbingly dystopian. Last week, I read about “a lady” in a truth-telling jacket.

 

This is exactly what happened:

A naturalized U.S. citizen (suffering from selective memory loss) was photographed right after a reporter from Hooey! Magazine asked her, “Is it true that your husband is a dementor wearing human skin?”

The lady seemed to be struggling with the complexity of the inquiry, phrases like Can you define ‘human?’ and ‘Must all of my husband’s hair be technically of this world?’ popped out of her eyeballs.

The reporter wasn’t sure how to proceed. His editor didn’t clear him to discuss popping thoughts of alien hair. He was about to say something nice about the lady’s attire, mostly to stole, but a collective gasp uttered by the sea of reporters standing behind the lady shut him up.

“She’s wearing a Truth-Telling Jacket!” the crowd shouted as one voice.

As the lady placed a hand over the spot where her heart should’ve been and turned to smile at the crowd, the reporter was able to read the clear message spelled by the truth-telling fabric: ‘I really don’t care. Do U?’

I’ve been following this reporter for some time now. He isn’t known for his sentimentality. Still, his eyes were shining, when he said, “Love like this is hard to find. Human or not, those two are made for each other.”

And I think he is right. The lady and her alleged human-skin-wearing-dementor must love each other deeply. Why else would she ever wear fabric that screams her true feelings into the world, regardless of how despicable said feelings might be?

His own show of love isn’t far behind. After a team of ornithologists explained to him that humanity tweets loudest when horrors threaten an innocent soul, he created a caring camp where he isolates children from parents. This isn’t done out of cruelty, of course. He cares hugely. He only wants to study the adults’ emotions at their rawest, in order to mimic their behaviors and become more humane for love.

Many people—especially those who find it hard to breathe through the happiness-sucking fog that follows the couple around—care very much about this issue. And they, too, are wearing truth-telling jackets.

image borrowed from Pearl Jam

 

posted by Magaly’s Muse

This is the work of a make-believe being who suspects someone got drunk and burned the barrier between news, reality, and politics. Names, characters, jackets, events, places, incidents… are either the products of said being’s imaginative whims or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons (living or dead, undead, thought to be undead, or known to be inhuman) is purely coincidental. Well… except the dementors. The dementors are real. Damn you, Dolores!

 

Never Touch the Baby Carriage

This week, for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55, our tale explores what might’ve happened (or not) during a tour of an abandoned NYC mansion.
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“Don’t touch it.”

“Why?”

Tourists. “Hunger. The baby’s eternally… No!”

But I wasn’t fast enough, the tourist’s face was already in the stroller, feeding noises filling the room.

“Never touch the baby carriage,” I whispered, as my brain fought to forget the wet popping sound an eyeball makes when it’s sucked out of its socket.

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a wee note…
– this is a work of fiction. Yes, I know babies can be outrageously creepy, but… I’ve never heard of a toothless youngster feeding on the eyeballs of NYC tourists who can’t follow rules. But one can still hope… Anyhoo, this flash was inspired by a picture in Bryan Sansivero’s article, “Exploring an Abandoned New York Mansion with a Secret Past”, in Atlas Obscura.

by Bryan Sansivero

The Cinderella Man

“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” ~ C.S. Lewis

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“The thirteenth foot’s different, sir. We’ve a second killer.”

“Copycat?”

“Doubt it, sir.”

“Why? The note is exclusive to this case, but the glass slipper and severed toes are identical. Even if the big toe was mutilated and stitched back—”

“That’s no toe, sir. The note reads, ‘No more happy endings for this prick’”.

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a wee note (not provided by the killer)
– this is a work of fiction. Fairytale references are the products of my eerie imagination and used in a creepily fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events isn’t coincidental at all, since it was totally inspired by Camila Domonoske’s article, “Human Feet Still Washing Up in Pacific Northwest, But Don’t Panic”.
– for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55.


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