Horror Story: Stickness

 

The house smelled of musty books and cat pee. Mr. Alten carried much of the same scent as he reclined in his chair, his large blue eyes magnified behind his glasses as he took the two of us in. 

 “I’m afraid I’m a bit of a slob,” he said as he rubbed his neck. “My wife did most of the cleaning before she passed.” His eyes fell on Rosie and drifted over her taking in each and every detail. Mr. Alten had no shame, and his eyes did not look my way. 

  “It’s not the worst we’ve seen,” Rosie lied sweetly with a smile. A clump of cat hair stuck to her sock which she rubbed away with her heel. “I’m sure we’ll be done in no time.”

Mr. Alten smiled with crooked teeth. This, combined with his scruffy white beard, made him look like a goat. “I’m glad to hear it. Your name is Rosie? You can start down here while I do my writing. Your friend can start cleaning the attic.”

           Rosie nodded and looked at me. “You heard Mr. Alten, Stickness.” The last word was a snide whisper. 

           

I bit my lip. It was the same as always. Rosie was a beautiful blonde girl with soft features. She had been that way since high school. She would stay to be ogled by our client while doing the easy cleaning.

         

 The real work waited for me in the attic.  

 

***

 

Junk was piled everywhere: wooden boxes filled with moldy, yellowed books. Diaper boxes filled with old toys and dolls. Clothing racks adorned with coats. Hiding in the small spaces between the boxes were piles of mouse droppings. More than anything, I hated cleaning rodent waste. Doing so brought a revolting shiver to my spine. 

         

  In the corner was a beautiful mirror, its edges decorated with roses. My reflection stared at me with dull brown eyes and mousy hair. I hadn’t shaved the hair on my arms recently, and it was there for all the world to see. My teeth were buttery and my stress had been so bad in the past week that my acne was causing a scene on the stage of my face. And I was as thin as a rail. Hence the nickname that I had had since I was in high school: Stickness. 

           

I hated the way I looked. I hated myself. 

           

“I wish I was beautiful,” I whispered.

           

And then, I was no longer staring at my reflection. Instead, there was a man in the mirror, with bone-pale skin and eyes black as pitch with no whites or iris, only pupil. His limp yellow hair hung down to his waist and he was dressed in black. A single crooked finger was at his lips, signaling me to be silent. 

           

I didn’t make a sound. My heart had jumped into my throat, and I had knocked over a small tower of boxes in my shock, but I didn’t run. There was something enthralling about the man in the mirror, and I could not help but stand before him.

           

“I can grant your wish,” he said from the glass.       

 

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”

           

He gave a wave of his hand. “Observe.” His form faded and a beautiful woman appeared in the mirror. Glossy hair the shade of midnight spilled over her shoulders. Her lips were full and her curves were entrancing. Her eyes…her eyes were mine. Brighter and more vibrant, but still mine. It was me in the mirror, me if I was beautiful.

           

The image faded and the Pale Man reappeared. “I can make you into this, my dear girl. I only have one request.”

           

I stared at him incredulously. “And what might that be?”

           

He gave a wolfish grin. “Your lips for a single kiss.”

           

Thoughts whirled in my mind. Was he a genie? Some kind of ghost? What he promised seemed impossible, but his being in that mirror should also have been impossible.

           

So why not?  

           

“Deal,” I said. 

           

“Very good,” the Pale Man said. “It shall be done.”

           

I blinked and he was gone. 

 

***

 

Three hours later on my drive home, my body sore from cleaning the attic, my stomach began to hurt. By the time I got to my apartment, I was struggling to walk. It was like someone had cut open my belly and put in a bunch of rocks. I beelined for my bathroom and collapsed on the floor in a fetal position. I laid there for at least an hour. 

 

Then the vomiting started. 

 

I couldn’t stop. I held onto the toilet for dear life as if it were an anchor. Just when I thought the convulsions and the heaving would stop, I would throw up again. And again. Then I saw that what was coming up was black as ink. I knew then that I needed to call for an ambulance, but my phone was in the front hall, and I was too weak to even lift myself from the floor. 

 

I didn’t remember passing out. 

 

***

 

When I woke up, I squinted against the overhead light of the bathroom. I got up from the floor, my mouth tasting as dry as sand. 

 

When I looked in the mirror, I screamed.

 

I was the woman I had seen in the attic. Cascading black hair, straight white teeth, a body to die for. There was no trace of Stickness. I was completely changed. 

 

“Do you like the results?” 

 

I turned. The Pale Man was leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. “You look ravishing,” he said. 

 

I smiled. “I can’t believe it. I…this is more than I ever thought possible.”

 

“I am known to make the impossible happen. Of course, we need to complete our deal.”

 

“Yes, yes,” I said. Suddenly, I was reluctant to kiss this man. He was gaunt and horrid, like a vampire left out in the sunlight. But if it meant I would stay beautiful forever, then I would keep my promise. Afterward, there wouldn’t be a man alive who wouldn’t want to kiss me. 

    I went to him. He was tall, and I had to stand on my tiptoes. His lips approached mine when suddenly he grabbed my face in his hand and squeezed. A knife, wickedly curved, appeared in his other hand.

 

“Wha?” I looked at him in alarm. 

           

“The deal was for me to have your lips,” the Pale Man whispered with a grin. “I think they will make a fine necklace. That way, they will be close at hand for me to kiss.” 

           

I struggled but his grip was iron. The cold edge of the blade grazed my cheek as tears welled in my eyes and my heart beat furiously. 

           

“This won’t hurt at all, pretty girl,” he said. 

            

My screams drowned out the sound of his knife slicing my flesh. 

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