The Corkscrew Spine

I’ve gone irretrievably out of my head, they say. But it was I, and not them, who passed through corridors of well-wrought horrors, silently cursing the hands that bore them. These horrors—portraits of my ancestors—vilified me in confidence, watching every fiber of my being. The dead were not alone in their scrutiny, for at the end of the hall hung a monstrosity borne from my own hand, a token of drunken stupor.

In my inebriated state, the devils who sought opportunity fell (at last!) upon my brains, burying themselves within layers of grey matter. I began making indelible marks, one after the other, onto a large canvas. My brushes descended without instruction, as my vessel was not of my own! I soon found myself on the rug, writhing in the presence of that revolting thing. The thing, staring with four eyes, rendered my blood to sludge. The terror was there, manifesting within the chambers of my heart.

Any attempts to discard the creation were futile; it faced me with virulence, inexplicably aware of my fears. I shuddered as it wrought its cold breath upon my face. Believe me, when I tell you, the thing was alive! I did as it required of me and placed it at the end of the hall. My ancestors articulated their disdain. Oh, how they hated me for it!

Later that night, their whispers emanated through the wallpaper. I tried to soothe my tormented mind to sleep, but it was for naught. I woke to find my windpipe clenched in a vice-like grip. I could not see the culprit, but a frosty mass, spewing dying embers upon the floor. The crimson curtains were drawn forth as if held aloft by invisible hands.

The mass extended a glittering claw, drifting closer to the foot of the bed. The branches of a great oak cast its ghost upon the room, mingling with the mass’s wintry glow. I could feel a suction in my chest as if my soul was being exhumed from my body! My skin ascended from my bones, stretching towards the mass like a raw dough. Veins of electric tremors coursed through my spine. My nervous system convulsed.

When I came to, I felt sore throughout. The morning sun fell hotly upon my cheeks. Despite the aches in my muscles, the mass left no evidence of its being here. Worried for my soul, I wrote to several colleagues in Auckland, assured they would provide good counsel. But alas!—their letters filled me with rage. I refused to believe—and still refuse!—that I was spiraling into madness. Their claims were outlandish, I tell you!

I had inherited the fortunes of my grandfather, and with it, the illness that killed him! It was an onslaught of premature dementia, they said. Worms were eating my cerebrum, they said! Nonsense! I can’t believe it! “There are no spirits lurking about,” wrote one. “The only spirits are the ones in your cupboard! Lay off the chablis, would you?”

I sought guidance elsewhere and found none. I was a laughingstock, a blithering fool! A silly drunkard! I ignored the physicians sent for me, as their existence relied upon invalidating my torment. The house grew stronger, ingesting my fears. The portraits of my ancestors began to express scenes of disgust and horror! They shielded their eyes from the painting at the end of the hall, their mouths frozen in screams.

One was pointing a slender finger towards the monstrosity. It too had moved and was peering from the canvas with a malicious grin. Its eyes reflected the light like tapers and its spine was twisted in a corkscrew-like strand, immersed in a sea of viscera. I hadn’t painted this element, yet there it was!

The wall beneath the canvas was streaked with fresh rivulets of blood. It puddled on the floor in the formation of a claw. The doric frame was covered in feathers of hoarfrost, though the house was quite warm. Pangs of horror boiled my insides. I suspended my breath. This can’t be. How can this be? Feeling immense dread, I hid myself in the parlor. I spent many hours like this, neutralizing my anxieties with a glass of chablis. The floorboards groaned overhead as if being tread upon. I could see ripples in the wine as the house exhaled disembodied wails.

My nostrils pricked at an ungodly odor: a mixture of moisture and decay. As I stayed in my chair, the odor grew increasingly repugnant. My stomach turned. I set down my glass. I could sense something coming, though I knew not what.

There came a scratching at the door. I stiffened in my seat. As the doorknob inched clockwise, the sound of scraping wood intensified. A heavy chill befell the room, causing my breath to materialize in a frosty plume. Disembodied moans filtered through the door. The house began to tremble, rattling the furnishings in the room.

It was here.

“Who's there?” The knob continued to turn. “Answer me at once! Who is there?” The reply: labored breathing followed by a guttural hiss. “Elliot! Elliot!” Black sludge seeped beneath the door. It trailed to my feet, slowly dissolving into the violet rug. “I demand you leave! You have no place here!”

“You have no place here! Elliot, Elliot! You have no place here!”

The knob suddenly stopped. I felt the air escape me. All was silent, save for the pounding of my heart. My tongue lay limp in my mouth. Was this to be the day of my death? I crept steadily towards the door. With each groan of the floorboards my heart leapt higher and higher in my throat. The bones in my mouth chattered. A layer of hoarfrost outlined the doorknob. Beads of moisture trailed down from it. It was beginning to melt.

“Perhaps the evil has gone,” I announced, swallowing my fright.

I wrapped my fingers around the knob. Oh, I dare not look! If I am to be wrong, I will meet an untimely death! My fingers began to turn. This is madness! How can you do this? How, when there is evil in this house, evil outside this door? I shook my head, silencing the inner thoughts. The knob clicked. I pulled open the door and—

—nothing! I found the strength to breathe again as I leaned against the door frame. However, my relief was premature! My gaze fell upon the floor, and that is when I finally saw it! Droplets of blood bespeckled the carpet and trailed down the winding staircase. Whatever had been here was downstairs! “Elliot!”

THUMP! THUMP!

I froze.

THUMP! THUMP!

Something was dragging itself up the staircase! I bade myself to flee, but my feet remained stationary. The sound continued, growing closer and closer. I couldn’t break my gaze! The monstrous thing finally came into view and I let out an audible gasp.

It was the corkscrew spine, tremendous in size, ascending the staircase like an inchworm! It escaped from the canvas! It appeared to have been torn directly from flesh. Blood and remnants of meat clung to the bones like cement. It left gore in its wake as it threw itself madly upon the stairs. A disembodied hiss enveloped my ears.

The spine was advancing at an alarming rate.

THUMP!THUMP!THUMP!

My legs were grasped by something wet and cold. My head remained straight, unable to move. The cold sensation slithered up my thighs. “Eeeelliot...!”

THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP!

God have mercy—I was trapped! The house let out a heave, causing the wallpaper to undulate. The bottoms of my feet burned with pin-pricks. My flesh grew incensed as I stood; the cold sensation had developed into an insufferable pain! I was boiling, falling away to nothing! The spine was now at the top of the staircase, hovering like a serpent. There was a mouth (my God, a mouth!) centered within the sacrum, filled with a million gnashing teeth! A mixture of spittal and blood descended onto the floor in great strands. Areas of the carpet began to dissolve. Here I was, at the mercy of this horrific thing!

Then, that light! The same light that encapsulated my room now radiated from this monstrosity! My eyes swelled at the phosphorus glow. I could hear the coalesced whispers of my ancestors, begging me to turn away. The corkscrew spine inched smoothly forward. My nervous system trembled. Heart pounded. I could see my reflection in the glimmer of its teeth. I was a frightened facsimile of myself!

The spine’s mouth began to inhale with tremendous facility; portions of the wallpaper disappeared within. I felt the pull of my clothing towards the creation. I could feel my skin being drawn into the suction! My eyes slipped from my skull as my teeth slid out of alignment. My nose cartilage extended. The skin on my arms traveled sharply into the void!

“Eeeelliot! Eeeelliot!”

I tried to scream but the breath was stolen from me. A powerful heat radiated between my ribcage. I could feel the evil pervading my marrow. Yes, I could feel it! Electricity! Frost! My God, it was there. It was inside of me! That claw (that terrible claw!) materialized before my eyes as the painting flitted through my mind. That calico! That calico with the twisted spine! It was here for me, here for my soul!

***

“You’ve gone unhinged, my friend. There is no apparition.”

“A ghost? A ghost visited you in the dead of night? My goodness, Elliot! Perhaps we should send for someone. You are certain you are not ill?”

“You’ve inherited many things from your grandfather, Elliot. His madness is one of them. Do be kind to yourself, my dear friend! I will write you soon.”

***

Lies, all lies! My soul was taken from me! I’ve gone mad? Ha! If only they were here, if only they were witness to my assault! They would know (yes, they would know!) that I speak of the truth! Tonight, the men will be coming for me. But now you know! You can attest to this and save me from the padded cell! Tell me you will. I have not gone out of my mind. My soul was taken from me! I am not the person I once was!

If only my ancestors could speak! Oh, if only they could speak!

FINIS