Pathological
A disjointed experimental serial, just in time for the Halloween.
It’s my birthday! I am old! But more importantly, it’s Halloween. And since my favourite thing to do is write, my birthday present to me every year is to share some writing.
This is an untitled thing I’ve been messing around with. I wanted to do some deep first character play, experimenting with style and voice and backstory. Each instalment is kind of it’s own standalone thing, but they all take place within the world and life of this character. There is a story arc I have in mind, but it will be followed very slowly because I’m diving into this character first.
I thought it would be prudent to start posting this on Halloween because while not explicitly horror, this character is not a hero. She might make you uncomfortable. Beware.
I’m not sure how often I’ll be sharing these, I have a few in the bank and will continue working on it in between my main project(s). It’s a newsletter exclusive, so make sure you’re subscribed so you get notified when I’m blasting out a new instalment!
I’ve also been practicing audio stuff, so there is the option to listen to the chapter as well. Feedback welcome on that, I’m still learning!
Speaking of subscribing and instalments and whatnot…some of you may have noticed that I have a new section of my Substack! I’ve sectioned off my book blogging and review posts so that you can choose whether you’d like to be subscribed to those as well as my main articles and stories. If you’re interested, check out your subscription settings and click ‘The Eye of the Storm’ and you can choose what you’d like notifications on.
Anyway, onto the story!
one
I want you to love me.
You don’t know me. I don’t know you. But I want you to love me. I need it like breathing.
Tala says love is not attention and attention is not love. She’s right—she knows everything.
Secretly, though, I know attention feels like love. It’s close enough, most of the time. I’m very good at pretending.
Back in my hitching days, this woman picked me up off the side of the road. The day was moist, not actively rainy, but I looked like a frizzy drowned rat. She pulled over her hatchback so fast, I knew she was a keeper.
She had this maternal instinct about her, a parental concern that choked me as soon as I got in the car. Fawning all over how cold I must be, how horrible that I was all alone on the side of the road.
All I had to do was shiver and sniffle and tell her my (non-existent) boyfriend kicked me out and I had nowhere to go. Most people would take me to a women’s shelter, but not this lady. She didn’t even suggest it.
Before I knew it, I was wrapped in a blanket on her living room couch with a mug of green tea. I hate green tea. I asked for honey with big, round eyes, and she heaped it in for me.
I stayed quiet, like the wounded young woman I was supposed to be. She respected my need for silence, assuming the worst. They always do.
She made me brownies and cookies and cake with warm milk, soups and stews and roast potatoes. To this day I still remember her velvety custard, topped with blueberry preserves. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. Her food tasted like a mother’s love.
She’d prattle away, regaling me with tales of her husband who’d passed away a decade before. They’d met in the army, got married, and had six miscarriages before he died in a horrific car accident. The kind of accident where they have to cremate the body because it’s so liquefied.
His gilded urn sparkled at me from the mantle.
She babied me for almost a week, taking days off work, all her attention on me. Or well, mostly on me. There was the cat.
That thing saw right through me. It glared at me with its judgy fucking face the entire time I was there, stupid flat-faced demon. Pseudo-Mom kissed it’s ugly nose.
She never kissed my nose. But it felt like she wanted to. A few times she put her hand on my hair, smoothing it back, eyes shining as she stared at me, whispering soft comfort. It was nice.
Until she had to go back to work. Such things run their course, after all.
I thought about killing the cat before I took off, but I wanted her to mourn my disappearance, not the cat’s. I knew she’d use the cat for comfort, but she’d be thinking of me. She’d never forget me. After all those miscarriages she got to be a mom for six days. I’ll forever be the most important person in that sad woman’s life.
Tala says sadness is an illusion. That it’s a waste of time. Negative emotions making people wallow until they can be Fixed. I keep waiting for her to Fix me.
I don’t have any kind of deep sadness. There are just things I yearn for. I know Tala can make them happen. Everyone she meets loves her instantly. I love her so much I would die for her. I would do anything for her. We all would.
I wish somebody would be that devoted to me. She could do it. But she says it’s not my time yet. I have a special purpose, she says. Don’t worry about it, she says.
But I can’t help it. What is my special purpose? I still don’t know, even now. I thought I’d figured it out. But now I’m here, aren’t I?
Tala calls me Starlight. She says I’m like the North Star, guiding her, guiding everyone. It’s not the purpose but it’s a purpose. I had another name, a long time ago. But that name doesn’t matter anymore.
Starlight is better. Starlight is who I am. Starlight is important.
Do you love me yet?
Also, did you know that the Don’t Read This Book After Dark Omnibus released today? If you’re interested in 68 terrifying stories from horror authors all over the world, grab your copy today!
Sooo good! *cup smash*