continue with 'warm sheets' by misk ridd

awaiting image from the artist

The start of Misk Ridd's story can be found in dif zine 2 - horro edition. and now we continue....

Another grand entrance foiled. I must not let this slow me down. “GOOD MORNING ANGE!” This was far too loud. “Angie.” She replies firmly swatting away my salutations. “Yes Angie sorry hello” Quieter now. “What was that luvvie?” Oh a waking nightmare. “On the drink last night were we?…out late?” Angie says with daggers behind a glaring smile. “No I- “You just look a little...” Her finger zips around her face like a hummingbird at a feeder. My eyes widen I am a rabbit waiting for the front end of a car. “The dark circles darling.” There’s the car. “They’re just like that I think, always have been” I plead apathy.  “Haaa! You’re ever so funny, come find me at lunch I've something to show you, nothing that can't be mended!” There is something frightening about her tone, I feel like one of those dogs the RSPCA collects from the back of an abandoned warehouse. The colleagues seem so far away now.

I spend the rest of the morning furiously shoving papers into the shredder, I don’t allow myself time to enjoy any of it. The little bastard refuses to chew more than 2 sheets at a time. I’d saved up a little stack but I don’t deserve it. Instead I use each sheet to mark the passing of time, this brings me closer to lunch. My next chance to solidify myself as a fellow colleague. From this morning's entrance I get the impression they weren’t expecting me back so at least by returning I’ve proved I can be a fighter dedicated to demolishing this back log and bringing the company into a digital future. In 47 minutes I will dazzle them with small talk and mild conversation about their interests. If I play this right they’ll be excited to see me tomorrow and then it’s all up hill baby. The clock strikes 12. It's go time. The room swells with quiet conversation, the rustling of bags. I hang back, fill out one more document, I don’t want to seem too keen. I feel them swooping past behind me. The colleagues. A man in a pale blue shirt stops before the door and turns to me. Me. His skin, also pale blue, I watch the shapes of his teeth move through almost translucent cheeks. “The break room’s just down the hall left then-

I watch his finger swoosh side to side hypnotically- you’ll find your way won’t you?” “Ye-“ the door swings shut before the rest of the word leaves my mouth, But still he turned to me. I count to ten before grabbing my bag. 

I scour the hallways for the breakroom. left then?…what was it? Angie has something to show me. I wonder aimless in the minotaur's labyrinth I listen for laugher, the warm breath of the beast on my heels. Did everyone else bring their whole bag or just the Tupperware?

Don't worry about it. Find. Angie. The pale blue man. “Oh you found us!” “Yes” I say with a sweeping grin. “Angies just in the corner” He smiles like he knows something. They’ve been talking about me. “Come in come in!” angles voice reaches through the door and pulls through. On a modular sofa I recognise from my gp’s waiting room, I am surrounded by shiny women. A mass of teeth chatter around me. I try to keep up but the words melt together. I nod along flashing uncertain smiles whenever one of them looks my way, I seem to float out of my body shrinking with each reference I don’t understand. “Ive got something for you!” A gentle prod to my forehead pushes me back into my body. The room becomes still. Angie digs around in her bag, They did bring their whole bags. “Now... I noticed you were looking little dry and your eyes! Oh lord we’ve all been there” A chorus of hums resonate around me. 

Before this morning I’d renounced myself from the dance of beauty, I framed this as an act of resistance but truly this was one of many narrative walls I'd built around my deepest feelings. I have to keep things neat in there, many doors I keep shut using the full weight of my body.

“Alright close your eyes now” My lips begin to separate. “Just do it!" Angie's eyes flair open, I relent. Hands seem to come from every direction. They articulate me like one of those wooden dolls artists use for reference, I feel weightless I am a twig in the river. Into my outstretched hands a cold bottle is placed. The hands retreat and the weight of the bottle pulls it down to my lap. I open my eyes, The other women coo around me. “It’s lovely” I say of the bottle, i’ve no idea whats inside. “I'm sure you’ve seen this all over the internet” -I haven’t. “It really is as magic as they say, it’ll take you from dull to delicious” The surrounding women writhe together gently nipping at each other's faces, as laughter ricochets around the break room. Angie’s gaze squeezes my cheeks and demands my attention. I return to the bottle ‘dull to delicious overnight’ “This will help with my skin?” Angie grabs my wrists “This. Will. change. Your. Life.” Her grip tightens before she releases me, I watch the blood flow back into my hands. Laughter hangs in the air. I didn’t even have my lunch.

There's a rhythm to this place. It's not in the work or the breaks, it's in the looks on their face. Every reaction is mirrored. Every step in perfect synchronicity. Words shuffle around the room desk to desk.. An invisible thread connects the colleagues.

When will I be sewn in? 

I try not to stare, luckily the clock sits above the clutch of desks, a home for my gaze whenever I see their eyes start to drift towards me. When Angie speaks the colleagues mouth the words silently back at her. They must really like her. She was the Newstart once. 

Like me. 

I wonder what it is they do over there, They use a lot of staples. The pale blue man is responsible for the printer, he hovers around them waiting for a quiet moment so he can deliver the warm printed sheets. There is an awkward little bow as he steps backward away from the main desks 

Does he sit at an empty desk too?

“It’s home time again! let me know how you get on with the cream.” I am ushered out of the door, suddenly I feel like I've done something wrong. Is it even 5pm? Angie is very close to my face. I look down to avoid our teeth touching. The hot wet breath presses against my ear, If she was to lick my ear right now I would not be surprised but I would go fucking mental. In a bad way. I think. “Use the full bottle, only on Sunday…it’s a full moon. It. Will. Be. Perfect…shower before, really pamper yourself, this is the start of a new you!” I do my best to obscure the battle of excitement and fear that rages on under my face. “And DON’T eat for 6 hours after applying the cream…not even a nibble, you must be pure for the formula to work” As disconcerting as ever. She pulls back, I miss her hot breath already. I nod slowly doe eyed until she releases me. “Right then! We look forward to seeing you Monday!” Over the shoulder I see the colleagues. They were watching. I'm gently pushed out of the door with a sickly smile. Angie’s silhouette disappears in the frosted glass. I nest the sleek bottle safe in my bag. It hasn't left my hands all day, home I carry the egg of my future. 

I say hello to the driver this time without opening my mouth a noise I'm sure he hears most evenings. He replies with a grunt. I suppose I'm still a bit shell shocked from Angie’s hot breath. I wonder what my breath feels like, probably just Luke warm. I'm compelled to check on the little bottle, my child, my egg. Soon I will pull out its innards and absorb its power. As any mother would. 

Ding 

I'd forgotten to check my phone. I have missed my stop. I bolt down the stairs and out the door, no ‘thankyou’ for the man this time. Endless industrial estate surrounds me, Pitch black except the piss yellow glow of the bus stop. Maps tells me I must walk 10 minutes to arrive back to safety 

I clutch my bag with both hands, My child in tow I make my way. 

The door is locked. The door is locked. The door is locked. 

This obelisk of fate glows against my current corner shop bouquet of toiletries. I wonder what Alberto Balsam would think of its curves. The next two days are punctuated only by the delivery man. Please neighbours stay in your homes. I won't be seen like this. It takes a monk like will not to open the little bottle.I watch my shows unwashed and wait for the sun to set.

Sunday 

There is a bath bomb somewhere in this house I lock eyes with the darkness under my bed. I decapitate boxes I haven’t seen since I moved in. I gather the artefacts of self care and begin the ceremony. I reach into the bottom drawer of the fridge and pull out the soggy carcass of what was once a cucumber.

“What can I put on my eyes instead of cucumber?” I ask google “Instead of cucumber slices, you can place cold tea bags (like green or black tea), cold potato slices, a cold compress, or a cold spoon on your eyes to reduce puffiness and provide a cooling sensation.” Cold potato slices? A cold spoon? Not in this house pal. Green tea bags seem like the more luxurious option. Scented candles battle for dominance while I sink into a bath hot enough to cook me. Caffeinated tears drip down my face on to my chest. The cold droplets excite my breath. I wait until the water is almost ice cold to depart. The tea bags lasted until I felt stupid which wasn’t very long. I'm sure I would have eaten the cucumber by now, had it not decomposed in its plastic sleeve. My skin dries to the tension of a drum. I look like I’ve got trench-foot and I reckon I could climb up the side of a building with these wrinkled finger tips. I wipe the crumbs off my bed before laying the little bottle down. Sitting side saddle on the edge of the mattress I reach for it. My face is first. I make sure to fill every pore with this mysterious goo. The excess is pulled down my neck and onto my chest bit by bit my body is covered. I stand like I've just finished a star jump so as not to waste one drop.

I pace around the flat waiting to absorb 

My skin glistens in the lamp light 

I take my naked body to the window and gaze out at the world 

There is a beauty here I hadn’t noticed before

street lights shine through my translucent reflection 

Tonight I will sleep naked I wouldn’t want to sully my transformation with a t shirt caked in this weekends meals 

I think of tomorrow, the first day of my life 

The bus driver will welcome me onto his bus 

The shiny colleagues will embrace me 

Angie’s hot breath will spill onto my neck 

I’ll be one of them 

Morning breaks and the sun gently caresses my face. Welcome to the world. 

water beads off my slippery skin. I'm gentle with the loofah today, careful not to scrub away at the new growth. In the mirror I bear witness to a new being. A layer of glistening mucus covers me edge to edge. I watch blood travel from my heart to the tips of my fingers, My skin an opalescent sheath. I run my hands across an unfamiliar torso. I search to find old scars vanished. What used to be a mound of vicious razors bumps glistens, it is like stroking the head of a dolphin. Maybe for the first time in my life I feel beautiful. Head held high taking in the sharp winter air I start kicking a Conker down the street. What a whimsical little journey. I soon realise there are no trees on this street. I am kicking a dried ball of dog shit.

The bus driver freezes eyes wide, mouth agape. I bet he’s never seen a woman this glossy, the kind of woman he’d expect to be driven around by chauffeur. I place my phone under the scanner. 

Beep 

I leave behind a film of mucus on the hand rail. Something to remember me by. The pale blue man tries to greet me as I enter the building. Feverishly he approaches me with both hands out. He clearly cannot contain himself in the presence of a woman who glistens to this degree. I push him away, he’s still trying to talk to me as I descend down the familiar hallway. I burst through the door like a stripper out of a cake. It is dark in the office. I breeze past the little shredder and move towards what I assume is my rightful place at the clutch of desks. I wonder if they’ve organised a surprise for me. “colleagues where are you??” Nothing. A small light glows from the manager's office. I haven’t seen her since my first day. I move with the door as I open it, like I'm holding a shield. My head creeps over the edge “sorry to bother you- The manger stands pressed into the corner of the room. A pool of liquid at her feet. “Sorry, do you know where everyone is today?” I creep closer, beginning to wonder if she needs some kind of help. I feel a synchronised grip of fingers around my body. 

The manager and the rest of the room shrink into a blur. The ceiling rushes past me. I watch the lights in the hallway blend into one solid yellow line. 

Their rabid faces suffocate my vision. 

The colleagues are so close to me. 

Pinned to the table in the break room. 

I knew they'd come around.

I feel my words vibrate against a familiar palm.

My breath feels hot trapped against the fingers. 

I do have hot breath. 

The hand retreats and the shadow of Angie crawls up my body, her teeth glow in the fluorescent light. 

Still pinned, I raise my head to meet her. 

Are we going to kiss? 

Fingers press into my skin before they puncture it and meet the gooey flesh contained.

How could they resist. 

As the air leaves my lungs I let out a gurgling wheeze.

My flesh peels from its bones. 

There's plenty of me to go around. 

Viscous ribbons ascend out of me. 

I retreat behind my eyes to watch my blood drip off Angie's smooth chin and onto her chest.

The colleagues pick my perfectly dewy skin from their teeth, how nice to be a part of the team.