The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Synaptic Pruning
by Kendra Smart
“You can tolerate it, just a few moments more.”
A few shaky breaths held down by clammy palms gripping on a raised pattern of leather armrests. The only scattered sounds in the dark beside the occasional metal clanging on metal.
A lie. Not dark, not at all. But the light was so blinding that it made everything naught but shadows. It was too strenuous on his eyes to distinguish the faces and items before him.
But wasn’t that better? Wasn’t this moment a true example of proof in practice. It wasn’t as scary if you couldn’t see what was happening.
“You would be amazed what the body is able to sustain and even endure. All that you have felt and suffered through will have been worth it…in the end.”
The voice of the nurse at his head really did sound like she was trying to be comforting. But to her credit, her occasional gentle hand squeeze on his shoulder was distracting from the fact that his skull was not only exposed but presently lay open like a coconut beaten for its milk and meat.
That he was awake made the experience all the more unnerving. He had heard the drill as it hummed and roared to life. Felt the immense pressure before a blissful release as a crackling fire along with a few loud pops happened in his ears. As if his jaw gave a few solid pops.
Times a hundred.
Thankfully as the metal implements did their portion of the work, scalpels and tongs- things of that nature, he felt nothing. Phantom or imaginary.
This surgery had been his choice. In a sense, at least. He had certainly put this train on its track. His case file would show escalating behaviors, acting out with aggression, violent tendencies, lack of appetite, depression, hallucinations.
Only because they came in between him and Marion.
From the moment their eyes had met across the cafeteria her first day, he had known. The hustle and bustle of the room had gone suddenly still, as though sound itself had been sucked from the room as easily as air. It ceased to exist except for her. Like air sucked through a hole on a plane or space station. Immediate and unavoidable.
That was what it felt like being apart from Marion. Trying to breath without a source of air to pull from.
Day after day he would watch to figure out her schedule. It wasn’t too hard to decipher given all sources of information. The staff talked about everything, including their schedules. It didn’t take long to figure out her shift, night. Nor days of the week she worked, Monday through Thursday.
He hadn’t meant for poor Marion to become his focal point, but his Northern Star she became. So seamlessly had she invaded his waking moments that her presence even stalked the corridors of his mind, haunting like a loyal Light Master unwavering at their lonesome post.
Part of the ship, tasked to the crew.
But that felt too akin to demeaning, Marion could never be set in comparison against something so tedious as a task. No. She was the sunshine, peaking over the crest of fleeting dusk. Colorful and warm, brightening whatever space she chose the longer she was around.
And it hadn’t taken long to recognize her heart. She showed it in all of her interactions, even in the quiet moments. The repose. But for reasons he couldn’t fathom, more and more he found her working other spots around the building…away from him.
The other staff was dismissive of his concerns. Almost offended at his asking after Marion.
“She’s on another unit today. Am I not good enough to help you out?”
They joked but the laughter never reached their eyes, only mire.
Gerald had been kinder in the beginning. But that had been before. Back when he could at least catch glimpses of Marion. Albeit through two steel locked doors with glass panes featuring latticed wire.
The glimpses were enough. He caught her smile as she went about her work helping her residents with this or that. Her kindness and patience clearly defined within each task. No matter how mundane or menial.
Service with a genuine smile.
He could understand that Marion’s heart was needed elsewhere…as long as he was allowed to follow her, even as a wisp of a shadow. It had been enough.
Until Marion stopped appearing all together. Even on her scheduled days. Gerald wheeled himself around the campus looking for the gossip circles, for the ladies and gents in the know.
Where was Marion?
One week had passed. Two weeks. The pain in his chest became nigh unbearable.
Three weeks.
Even the rumor mills were spiraling at this point and feeding on her absence. Had she quit? Fired? All the hushed whispers racked his dreams both waking and the small cat napping his body forced upon him.
Week Four.
She came back. He had seen her. They had moved her up to the front of the building, another array of worlds set in the encapsulated environment that was campus. That must have been where she was needed the most. Her kindness. Warmth.
He smiled at her, purely a moment of time caught in passing. She seemed nervous. Her smile back was very tight and close lipped.
Little warmth. Forced almost.
From then on each day had been the loss of Marion. Another chink in the armor, more brittle pieces of his love falling away. Other staff tried to extend their hands in kindness but they weren’t Marion.
Gerald lost himself to the despair.
What a horrible lot to love yet love alone. What purpose served the heart if not to feel?
But feelings are housed not in the literal heart like the poets woefully wrote, no…one could not survive without the beating traitor.
But one’s mind could absolutely have pieces and parts removed all while leaving one quite functional.
So Gerald did what he had to in order to be considered for the surgery. Including the option to keep his removed organs. They were his weren’t they?
They scheduled his Amygdalotomy.
Which was presently where his brain was bringing him back to. The lights were still so bright. The nurse who was on his shoulder was talking to him. Gerald struggled to focus for a moment.
“Say them after me Gerald. Yellow. Orange. Pink. Blue.”
“Yellow. Orange. Pink. Blue.”
Gerald felt something off as he repeated the color names back to her. But how they were off he couldn’t describe. His mechanics were trying to process, make the pieces come together to make things clearer.
But the message was vague, muffled as though his subconscious was going down with the proverbial ship. It didn’t matter for long though, the next words caught his attention and brought it fully to focus.
“Let’s close him up.”
Gerald had done it, made it through the hardest hurdle. Now he just needed to send a package.
***
Marion Fairchild had been telling her therapist for weeks that returning to work was too stressful. When she returned to healthcare Marion had held high hopes that it would bring some structure into her life. She just wanted to help people and feel like some normalcy had returned to her every week.
But one resident at the Bevelled End Assisted Living and Long Term Care had held other ideals about what her purpose was. Following her throughout the building for hours on end, leaving gifts in her locker, even going so far as to bully other residents so that they wouldn’t come to her for assistance. She just wanted to do her job. But the harassment had been endless.
Like a shadow that was resistant to all light he clung to her presence while she worked, making her rounds. He would always be in her periphery, but when Marion would bring her eyes to focus directly on him…he was tucked away.
The act of being shy that he put on was just that, an act. He had no problem establishing his being and had less concern asking her coworkers about her personal life. The genuine concern in their eyes as they all would gather to tell her was maddening. It had caused to question working at this facility, she didn’t even want to set foot on campus.
Her point of contact had listened to her concerns and told Marion that they were valid and would be addressed. Their response was to move her from her normal assignment, from there it was an endless game of hopscotch around the campus. Never a continuing assignment, once she got a routine down it felt like she was pulled to somewhere new.
Marion worked hard to maintain her smile. But it became harder so she took a mental break.
Two weeks of paid vacation to the tune of her bank of paid time off screaming. But wasn’t her mental well being worth that small cost?
She was jarred from her thoughts by the sound of her doorbell, Marion opened her door to find a small brown boxed package. The return address was for Bevelled End, she wondered if it was something like a care package. On top of the package was a sticker with a picture of a smiling face with the script “Get Well Soon!” written in bubbly letters above the face. Maybe the H.R. manager who had helped her do her Leave of Absence paperwork?
Marion made her way to the kitchen looking for something to open the package. Once open, inside lay a thick-papered, heavy envelope atop sheer but not fully transparent tissue paper. She set the card on the countertop beside the package and lifted the cloth.
Almost instantly the small space was filled with the scent of roses. But not of fresh, fragrant roses. The smell emanating from the box was that of sickenly sweet decay, her eyes immediately saw the almost perfectly preserved withered roses.
Nestled amongst them was an ornate leather and wooden small box. She lifted the box up, it had the heft of good, solid material paired with the details denoting craftsmanship. The leather was incorporated as if it and the tree had always been meant to be used for this purpose.
Slowly she took in her breath, her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest.
Marion was afraid.
Her mind debated between opening the box or the card first. Should she open them at all? The trash can all but mocked her. It too was an option.
Her mind rationalized that the flowers could have wilted in transport. It could be just a nice gift.
But her fingers shook as she unhinged the clasp for the latch holding the lid shut.
Almost silent choked noises burst free from her mouth as she took in what was before her eyes. A small jar with clear fluid hosting a sickly pale pink matter lay inside awaiting her. She felt the bile rising almost like a foam in her throat. Marion fought with everything her mind could spare to not vomit. She did however allow her hands to lose the fight with their grip on the box.
She paid what occurred to the box after it fell out of her hands no mind. The moments didn’t exist in any part of her memory banks. She opened the grey envelope to reveal another smiling face beaming from a card. Above this one it read, “Hope this lifts your spirits.”.
She opened the card and inside was a single sentence in an elegant handwritten script.
“Now you can place my heart upon your shelf.” –Gerald.
Fiction © Copyright Kendra Smart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from author Kendra Smart:
Just Emotions:
A Gothic Bite Magazine Anthology
A collection of poetry.
‘Just Emotions‘ is exactly as it states, a group of writers who had feelings they wanted to express in poem form. Inside, there are a range of emotions to explore. Each writer has given a bit of themselves to you, each in their own way.
We hope that you enjoy these writings and that among the poems you may find some thing you can identify with or relate to. Thank you for giving us this chance to open the catacombs and share with you.
Spreading the Writer's Word 