Courtenay S Gray

She sat there, shaving down her stolen tongues. She places them back in the jar of fermented vinegar. Spark loathes anyone who does not see things like her. So, she cuts out their tongues so they cannot express their opposition.

Her laboratory of monstrosities was medicinal. The walls stained with bottle green like surgical gloves. The distinct smell of rubber singed through her fingernails.

There is a knock at the substantial silver door.

“Come in”

“Madame Spark, we have another one”

“Take them to the pool, turn on the jets”

“Yes Madame”

Spark didn’t look up once from her work. She is using a pipette filled with an unknown substance to drop on new tongues to try and neutralise their acidity. Her face is nefarious. She is black-hearted. Her eyes are veiny, too veiny. She smiles but it is wrong. It is mangled. Her body malodorous, putrid.

Spark is a woman filled with rot. If you can even call her a woman. Her heart isn’t fuelled by blood, it is fuelled by the tongues that she takes and mutilates. Did I forget to mention that? She consumes them. Yes, she rips them from mouths unlucky enough to say something she disagrees with and then she laps them up like a dog’s dinner.

There is another knock at the door.


The door opens slightly ajar. You can smell the bouquet of consternation on the servant’s

“S-orry Madame but, they are getting restless”

Spark turns to face him. Her eyes glazed and acrid.

“You know what do next, I’ll be with you in just a moment. Now, go”

She slowly rises from her seat. She walks over to a black jar that is at the very back of the room. There appears to be a shadow moving from inside the jar. Inside the jar is some form of creature. It is not yet fully formed. It has the same eyes as Spark. Its mouth is merely a line of stitches. Its legs and feet are like putty. Coagulated joints.

She sprinkles some sparkle on top of this beast. The sparkles dissolve into its unfinished face. She leans over the loin cloth covering the opening and lets out the most deranged guffaw.

“They think I’m the evil one but nothing is as evil as the unimpeachable. I tore you limb from limb and it’s going to take a thousand centuries for you to put yourself back together again”

She lurched out of the room whilst guzzling down the latest tongue.

Courtenay S Gray is twenty two years old and she is from England. She has been writing creatively her entire life. She has self published two poetry book. She published her first at the age of eighteen and her second at the age of twenty. She is also a huge Harry Potter fan.

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