#hopefully this gets on mentally ill queer tumble bc that’s where I am

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BONE SOUVENIRS

tw: flesh, cannibalism, blood and gore, horror themes, detached body parts, mentions of abuse, word ‘midget’ used

{finally happy to share my writing 👾 }

He held the severed finger in his fist loosely, the fingernail peaking through the side, the bluish skin contrasting against the pink wrinkles of his scarred palm. The blood had ceased to drip onto the man’s hand, but now it was edged with a drying red thickness, almost like old pizza sauce. The rest of the detached hand was in his backpack, along with the Paris souvenirs and the eyes. The rest of the tourist was unnecessary, and was left peacefully in a shallow hole in the boulders, though the smell would eventually lure something. But that mattered little now. He had to get home.

In a familiar rhythm, the man continued down the rock maze. Ripples and bumps on the rocks spread scratches across his old jacket, taken from a kind Russian tourist’s shoulders, which were taken as well with the jacket, thanks to the overly complicated buttons and his need of a torso for his creations. Today he needed just a pointer finger, a left hand, and a set of green eyes. He would begin to look for some long brown hair tomorrow, and preferably some nice toes – but clean feet were always hard to come by in these mountains.

The mist began to thicken, and the dirt track was beginning to flood under his feet. He could taste the smell of rot and rain, smell the bitter coolness of the rock, hear the wail of the wind high above. A storm was brewing, which meant he should hurry home, but also very beneficial for it would wash away the blood and his footprints. But as he continued walking the dirt track, the rain suddenly began to crash down in great sheets, piercing the left side of his face with its fast torrent of raindrops. Quickly, he moved flush against the rocky walls, its slight upward lean sheltering him due to his dwarfism – a trait that only benefited him in his recent ‘social engagements’.

Directly in front of him, looming up through the thick mist, was the rails of an abandoned rollercoaster and he moved quickly towards it, eager to get back to his dwelling. Running his crooked hands down its sun-bleached structure, he felt the roughness and dimples of the bone-like material. His finger traced the well-known path to the rope concealed in the mist, and pulled at it, wheeling forward a wooden carriage that slotted against the old ride’s surface. Though he did it daily, the task of pushing the carriage onto the rails was always difficult. But with his hunched back bulging, he eventually slid its stiff wheels onto the creaking sides, and climbed into the belly of the carriage. He shoved at the back leaver, and was moving slowly up the first arch. The man’s thoughts travelled to his and Mother’s dinner, wondering what the snares had caught. Tourist hair worked surprisingly well for catching animals, and he had a lot to spare since none of the audience members needed it, but sometimes if he didn’t put enough hair, it would just break and nothing would catch.

He reached the end of the ride, and once again concealed the carriage in the growing mist. Mother had already turned the house lights on, for the tent was aglow with warmth. The man often found that living in a now abandoned amusement park had its advantages, despite it rebirthing awful memories of his time performing there. To him it was too degrading for a performance, and he was treated more like a pet. The Hunchback Midget of the Circus, come see it dance in its cage!

The backpack had begun to weigh him down as he trudged through the squelching mud towards the hair traps, and happily found two rabbits, a snake, three fish, and surprisingly, a two headed mouse, which he would probably stuff and keep it as a gift for Mother. But it was a feast.

Once back at the old Big Top, he pulled aside the heavy curtain door, dropped down his heavy backpack, and reached inside for the hand and eyes.

“Mother, I brought you some new eyes.” The man called out, strolling into the sandy middle. Mother sat in her chair, arms dangling limply backwards and her neck only half attached to her slumped head. With care he lifted her chin, and plucked out her old rotting pair of eyes. That was the only problem with her, and with the audience, they kept rotting, which forced him to keep getting them new body parts, and not just killing tourists and taking their souvenirs as prizes. But he would do anything for Mother, despite what she had done to him that made him end up as a circus pet. He had destroyed the bad Mother, and rebuilt her into what he wanted, and she seemed to love him more for it. He was proud of this feat, not many men could remake the women they loved from collected parts into whatever way he wanted.

“I’m sorry your eyes rotted again Mother. But I got you some nice Paris souvenirs to cheer you up.” He pushed her mostly new eyes into her skull, quickly stitched her neck to keep her head on through the night, and patted her drooping grey cheek affectionately.

The crooked man straightened to his best ability and looked around at his audience. He still needed some more heads and spikes for the second row it seemed, but he was too weary to go to the backroom and gather them. He was content with it not being a full house tonight.

Instead he prepared a fire, and once that was complete, he began to prepare the catch, but Mother seemed very uneasy.

“I understand that you feel apprehensive with fire since I accidently burnt half of you last time I cooked, but I’m more careful now, and besides, we can’t keep eating our audience members. Its bad hospitality.” Mother seemed to calm down at his words, and so he pulled out the severed finger he saved in his jacket pocket and began to chew absentmindedly as he continued to prepare the meat.

“Oh and before I forget, do you think I should put those new souvenirs in that far left corner, near the half built Ringmaster?” He inquired to Mother, smiling.

Mother smiled back at him, and nodded.

#horror #horror story #thriller #first post #English assignment turned into hyperfixation #aaaaah my phones about to die #two headed animals are kinda cool ngl #hopefully this gets on mentally ill queer tumble bc that’s where I am #idfk what I’m doing tbh rn