JOY FLORENTINE

Genre: Horror
CW: Insects, (ambiguous, implied) harm to child
Published in the CHILDREN OF THE DEAD: SHADOW PLAYGROUND anthology of WICKED SHADOW PRESS

Mommy says, “Nina needs a tumble. Don’t worry, she’ll come out as good as new.” Out in the garden, I played with Nina. She was hungry, so I gave her dirt. I scooped it from around the flowers and stuffed it into her mouth. Her pink tongue turned brown, even darker than her long bunny ears. Nina wanted more, so I dug and buried her face in it so she could eat as much as she wanted. Now, her arms and legs are wet and cold like the naked slugs that crawl out of the earth when it rains. 

Mommy tells me, “Don’t get Nina so dirty, dear,” and I want to say, But Mommy, Nina asked me to! Nina told me she was hungry. Nina wanted her mouth and tummy full of crawlies. Nina likes the way it feels! But words don’t come in a way Mommy will understand. They get stuck behind my binky.

Mommy explains, “You can sit here and watch through the glass door.” In Nina goes. Click says the door. The machine hums a song. I watch through the glass. Water splashes onto Nina’s face. She looks surprised, then scared. Her head shakes. Nina doesn’t like it! I try to tell Mommy, and I cry and kick and scream. But Mommy doesn’t listen. Nina is staring at me through the glass. She looks angry now.

Nina tumbles in slow circles. She goes up and down and up. She falls to the bottom of the machine when it stops. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” she cries. She covers her eyes with her bunny paws. Out of her belly pops a small white crawly worm. It is eating its way out of her! Is this all my fault? “Ow!” Nina cries one more time. But her voice sound different now. Like a growl.

Nina tumbles in fast circles. They are so fast my eyes can’t keep up. The machine shakes and rattles and rocks. It buzzes like the black flies on the dead doggy Mommy and I saw by the roadside. Mommy turned me away, but I saw the thick white crawlies squirming in the wet, red hole in its belly. Why can’t I pet the doggy? I wanted to ask. I pointed, but Mommy rubbed my head and took me away.

Nina eye is gone! Now she can’t see. It’s lying at the bottom of the machine. It stares at me. I cry and cry, putting at Mommy’s dress. Nina is hurt! I try to tell her. Mommy grabs a marker and presses it into Nina’s wet face. It makes a dent. When Mommy holds Nina up, there is a big black dot where her eye used to be. Her new eye is much bigger than the other. It’s growing. Slowly. Around the edge grow small spikes, like the one on the black-and-yellow crawly that stung Mommy in the garden.

Nina needs to dry up there on the heater. Mommy has put her high up where I can’t reach. “Goodnight,” Mommy says. She kisses me on my cheek and head. She smells like warm honey. She makes the stars and moon sing the Goodnight Song. The light switches from the big bright yellow light to the small one beside my bed. Orange, red, blue, green, orange, red. I look through the wooden bars of my crib. Nina is there on the heater, with one arm, one ear, and one leg hanging over the edge.

I can’t sleep. Nina is crying. “I’m hungry,” she says. “So hungry.” I look at the ceiling. A small dot appears. It grows bigger and bigger, like Nina’s eye. It moves down. It drips on my face. I wipe at it with my hand. It’s thick and grainy, rubbing roughly against my cheek and fingers as I wipe. “Nina?” I turn my head and look up at the heater. Nina is gone.

I ask, “Where are you, Nina?” But Nina doesn’t answer. I look to the right, between the bars of my crib. Something moves in the shadows. Another drop falls on my cheek—harder, bigger, thicker. I look back up. The dot has grown so large and dark. It covers the entire ceiling now. Thick muck drips down from it. On the floor. On my sleeping bag. On my face. It smells like rainworms and Mommy’s fingers after gardening.

Something hot touches my cheek. I look, but more thick muck falls from the ceiling. It goes into my eyes and my mouth. It gets stuck between my tongue and gums. I sputter and cough and spit, but the bitter, wet much slips into my throat. I cough and sputter and scream. I wipe and blink and cry. My tears mix with the grains in my eyes. It stings and scratches and hurts. I wipe some more and finally see again.

Nina’s face is pressed against the bars of my crib. Her tongue rolls out of her open mouth. Nina doesn’t look like herself. She has sharp teeth! She drools brown strings of muck. Her black eye glows red in the light. The eye Mommy made is melting. It drips down her face. She presses her head through the bars. It twitches and twists and turns until her smile is upside-down. Her ears wrap around her neck. 

Nina howls and squeals and cries. “I’m hungry. So hungry. Mommy doesn’t want me to eat. Mommy wants me to starve to death. I want the dirt. I want the dirt in my mouth. I want to dig out the earthworms, slice them with my teeth, feel them squirm against my tongue. I want to chew on the crunchy beetles, swallow the woodlice, pull the legs off a spider and suck on them—eat, eat, eat, and fill my belly with crawlies!”

Nina wraps her ears around my throat. She presses down on me like she’s trying to push and bury me in the ground. I can’t breathe! Nina’s only hurting me because she’s hungry! She’s hungry! She drags one wet paw across my face and forces my mouth open. My binky falls out and to the side. “EAT, EAT, EAT!” Nina screams. Muck rains from the ceiling. It falls into my mouth. It fills my cheeks. Something moves inside of it. I close my eyes. I feel them against my tongue, taste them—crawlies, big, small, long, slimy, dry, crunchy, hairy. They glide and crawl into my throat. I swallow and choke and cough. Down my belly, they go.

When I open my eyes, I’m outside in the garden. The sun is shining. Nina is in my dirty hands. She’s back to normal now. My binky is lying in the dirt. I taste mud on my lips. A small green crawly moves over her bunny ear. I put my fingers inside my mouth and feel. The crawlies are gone. I swallow sand. Nina looks up at me, mouth filled with dirt. She’s smiling again! Her belly is full.

Mommy is watering the flowers. She comes to me and crouches. “What have you done to Nina, dear? Look like she could use a tumble.” No! I shake my head and press Nina against my chest. Mommy lifts me and takes us to the machine with the round glass door. She takes Nina from me. I watch as Nina goes back into the machine. Mommy shakes the bottle with blue liquid from the shelf. “Empty,” she says. She leaves.

Nina lies upside-down in the machine. “Help me!” she cries. I crawl to the door and pull. It opens. I climb into the machine and reach for Nina. I press her against my nose and cheeks. Sand scratches my skin. Nina smells like dirt and old orange peels. The green crawly on her body falls onto my arm. I watch it crawl down my hand. I pick it up and put it in my mouth and chew. Juice bursts into my cheek.

Mommy presses her foot against the glass door. It closes and clicks. I hug Nina. The machine growls and shakes and jerks. What’s happening? Water splashes into the machine and soaks my socks and feet. I feel the green crawly stick in my gums. We start to tumble. I’m scared, but I keep holding onto Nina. She needs me. “Don’t worry, Nina.” I kiss her bunny face. “Mommy says we’ll come out as good as new. And then we’ll eat our bellies full.”

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