Sneak Peek into Candied Corpses

In honor of Spooky Season I thought I'd share one of the short stories in my new Dark Fantasy Anthology Candied Corpses. If you enjoy this one you should check out the others on Amazon!

Click here for link

Feel free to comment and let me know which story is your favorite in the series. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Without further Ado:

Pound of Flesh

by: Amanda Hatwell

Theodore Thorpe strode into the auction hall with the jump in his step of a much younger man. The twinkle in his blue eyes was unmistakable. The room grew deadly quiet. The previously boisterous buyers rested their hands in their laps and leaned in, trying to assess what was beneath the white linen sheet that his assistant wheeled into the room. The echo of her heels reverberated on the walls like the clicking of a typewriter. Theo took in the room with a giant grin and removed his blue satin coat, tossing it on the podium with one fluid motion. His booming southern voice was thick as molasses when he spoke. 

“Why are we all here today, folks? Art? Sure. You could call it that. But to the core of it, the real reason is beauty. Is it not?” The crowd nodded in unison as if a preacher had referenced their favorite bible quote. “There is a great misunderstanding amongst human beings concerning the exact definition of beauty. Some prefer curved, some narrow. I once knew a self-proclaimed art lover who only felt inspired at the sight of what he affectionately called the Giantesses of the world. The taller the subject, the more money he’d spend on the piece.” He chuckled and shook his head, lost in a memory that everyone there seemed to share. 

“Opinions are all well and good, but I am in a very special position to judge true beauty. It’s my business, as you all know, and if my ability to find the most alluring creatures in the world is ever lax, that would mean my livelihood would go as well. So, please do believe me when I say that the woman who stepped through the bustling bar at exactly eleven fifteen that night was the most beautiful one I’d seen in all my many years. She is my subject tonight. And quite a subject to behold.” 

The crowd of buyers was now flushed with excitement. It had been well over two months since the last art auction and the wealthy were, to put it politely, not the most patient group of people on planet Earth. Camilla Jones, heiress of the very successful beauty brand Aphrodite’s Kiss Cosmetics looked like a plump child that had been told about a birthday party. 

Pleased with his audience’s full attention, Theo continued. “This lovely lady’s gal pals all gathered around to flirt with the young bartender, each one more desperate for his attention than the last. Now if you didn’t have such an eye as mine you might think any of these lady’s would make for a fine piece of art but you’d be wrong.” He placed his hand on his chest and drew in a deep breath. “If one were to pick apart the average group of young ladies you’d not find much of a difference between them. They were all conventionally attractive with heavy makeup and ample cleavage.” He chuckled when someone in the crowd giggled at this. 

“But this young lady, the worthy one, glanced around with a bored smirk and checked her phone, no doubt calculating the exact hour she could leave such a place. She and I had that much in common. I loathe those places more than most but as you all know, it’s necessary for me to spend a certain amount of time in public areas. For business sake. But let me tell you, my deadline was fast approaching and this lovely woman had come into my life just in the nick of time.”

He nodded to his assistant, signaling her to dim the lights and start the slide show portion of the presentation. The man was many things, but apparently brief wasn’t one of them. Of course, I couldn’t blame him. His clients were paying for the show as much as they were paying for his one-of-a-kind art pieces. No one, not even all the up-and-coming artists from France and Germany was able to conjure up the kinds of work like Theodore Thorpe. The older woman who wheeled in the equipment fiddled with the projector and laptop as if she’d never seen the like in her life. Theo mumbled something to her and shooed her along. A murmur rose among the attendees as the first slide appeared on the screen. From my vantage point, I could hear Camilla say something about proportions and the clear signs of sun exposure. This caught Theo’s attention and he turned to face her directly. 

“Now my dear, whose job is it to make these beautiful pieces that I do believe decorate your own parlor as we speak?” 

Camilla’s withered face was suddenly flushed. This was exactly why Mr. Thorpe was the most successful among the other well-known photographers. He knew how to speak to the buyer. I jotted down a few notes on my notepad and thanked my lucky stars that this very select society decided to invite one journalist to their auction today. I didn’t know why they’d done so but my job security sure was thankful. 

“This was the very first picture. I’m sure most of you would see someone plain and maybe even homely when you look at this, not that there's anything wrong with such traits,” Theo cooed, nodding a very hurtful look directly toward me. I could feel the other eyes in the room all turn to me but thankfully I was able to nonchalantly take notes. When he started his presentation again I felt my whole body relax with relief. 

“But as we all know, this old man still has some tricks up his sleeve. And of course, I have Aphrodite herself to thank for most of it.” He winked at Camilla Jones who cackled like a pleased hen. Of course, he used her cosmetics to make these women pretty enough to turn into art.  

The subsequent slides went slowly at first, showing a hesitant, nude young woman trying and failing to pose for a photographer. Per his usual style, he chose different food items as his main focus in the photos, using the women as a canvas to showcase them. In one she was awkwardly resting in a tub of chocolate syrup, a single cherry balancing on her out-stretched tongue. The various poses, paired with the uneasy look on the subject’s face made the average viewer deeply uncomfortable. That was one thing that he was most famous for. The dread on her face made me wonder if she wasn’t an actor he’d paid to make his photography more dramatic. If not, he probably paid this young woman an enormous amount of money to be the subject of one of his art pieces.

I could only imagine how that first conversation had gone in that bar. What woman in her right mind would agree to go off with an elderly man who said he was an artist looking for models? Even if they did agree, the idea of posing nude covered in various sweets would make most people run away. But Theo Thorpe was nothing if not a smooth talker. It was rumored in some circles that he’d even started a cult back in the eighties. Seeing him strut around the room, one could believe it.

As the slides sped up, the crowd appeared exceedingly pleased. After the first ten photos, all oddly close up as far as photography was concerned, the viewers were working themselves into a frenzy. No longer were they sitting neatly in their little white chairs. They were all standing and rubbing their hands together like hungry hornets. Theo stopped on a photo of the same young woman lying on a marble floor with a thick, granular substance poured all over her body. Her eyes were covered by some kind of peppermint lace and each limb was at angles that would never be possible for a human being. Some terrible voice in the back of my head told me the images weren’t photoshopped. Theo’s voice startled me out of my own discomfort. 

“After many hours of preparation, this young lady became exactly what I knew she would. This is what you pay me for, Ladies and Gents. Just look at the transformation. The skin, the hair. Why, it’s as if a Goddess herself flew down from the heavens and took up residence in my art studio.” He gave a wink to no one in particular and continued. “Why, what kind of money would one pay for the privilege and honor of experiencing this kind of beauty every day?”

The crowd went wild, calling out numbers as if they’d been possessed by the charm of this strange old man. My eyes flitted to the exit and my stomach was suddenly in knots. I wasn’t sure why I was having such a reaction but I did trust myself well enough to listen. Slowly, I shuffled toward the door, making sure to keep by the wall and out of the limelight. I was a few feet away from freedom when the last slide clicked into place. The image made a high-pitched scream slide out of my gut and up my throat. The crowd turned toward me. Instead of looks of concern or annoyance, the strange look on their faces was something much different. It was as if I were the lamb and the stooped figures around me had suddenly become wolves.      

The slide that startled me to my very core was much like the last except for the dark figure standing over her. Several gory strips of the girl’s face had been neatly ripped off the bone. A single tear still lingered on the girl’s cheek when the photo was taken. I tried to convince myself that this was some kind of prank, or maybe Theo Thorpe had decided to venture out into horror photography. No matter how hard I tried, my mind and my good sense could not agree. The terror now running through my veins wouldn’t rest. 

“Now, dear lady, I realize that art can be…difficult for some to understand. The journalistic mind sees facts and figures not strokes of paint. You look at a block of stone and see nothing but that. It takes a very special kind to see what’s sitting there underneath all that hard surface.” Theo Thorpe made his way toward me, using his body to bar the doorway. The wildness in his blue eyes made panic grip me even tighter. I threw the notebook that was clutched in my hands, smacking him hard in the face. I flung open the door and ran as fast as I could manage on shaking legs. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears as I rounded the corner. Two large men, whom I didn’t notice when I came in, tackled me to the ground and dragged me kicking and screaming back down the hall. Out of instinct, I clamped my eyes shut, not wanting to believe what was happening. 

By the time I opened my eyes again I was being shoved into a chair at the front of the auction hall. The gold and white furniture, once seemingly so elegant, was now mocking me. The artist looked down his long nose and frowned, twitching his injured face. The room grew quiet as the doors were slammed shut and barred from the inside. 

“You can’t do this…whatever this is. I’m a journalist for the National Gazette. I’m not here to play whatever games you people need to entertain yourselves. I’m a human being.” My words echoed off the walls and sounded more like the screeching of tires than my voice. 

The artist, ignoring my pleas, took a fist of the white fabric that had been covering his finished art piece and grinned.The spectators all began to stomp their feet in a rhythm that made the floor rumble. Another scream rushed out of my throat at the sight of his big reveal. 

Under the sheet was the woman I had seen in the photographs, but something was terribly wrong with her. Her see-through skin shimmered like marble. Beneath the covering, I could see every organ, nerve, and muscle as if she were placed in a medical scan. Her hair, matted and wet, was frozen in place by some kind of spray or mold. At first glance, one might think the object in front of them was a grotesque statue but the eyes were wide and filled with terror. They darted from person to person, silently begging for help that would never come. From where I sat I could see the blood coursing through her veins. She wasn’t able to speak or move but she was alive. At least for now. Our eyes met and I felt every nerve in my body vibrate. I understood at that moment exactly why this group invited me here tonight. Whatever Hell this poor girl was locked in was going to be my fate too. The two meaty hands on each side of me were pressing down so hard that I couldn’t move. 

Thorpe began the auction, hissing his words in such a fast rhythm that I couldn’t understand him. It was as if it was in another language entirely. The statue of the girl began leaking a river of tears that trickled down her frozen face and made a small puddle on the wood floor below. Sometime before the auction was completed I lost consciousness. 

**********

Blinding light woke me from my deep sleep. I twitched and tried with all my strength to roll over, convincing myself that it had all been some terrible dream. Maybe I’d had too many sweets the night before, or was it my nerves at being invited to such a big event? My high spirits came crashing to the ground the moment I saw Theo Thorpe’s face slowly come into focus. His bushy white eyebrows bounced upward when he realized I was awake. I struggled again to move, begging my limbs to help me escape from whatever second location these crazy people had taken me to. All around me were painting easels and various covered frames. It smelled of the strong stench of sweat mixed with chemicals. The artist had taken his newest prized piece back to his studio. I felt my eyes start to tear up and felt the contents of my stomach begin to lurch. I’d rushed out of my studio apartment that morning, grabbing nothing more than a granola bar and a tall cup of coffee. It was almost cruel that such a meager thing would be my last meal. 

Theo, keeping strangely quiet for the big showman I’d seen earlier, gathered his supplies in a methodical way. His nimble fingers slowly removed things from his shopping bag, ice cream, sprinkles, and a family-sized bag of cookies caught my eye. What kind of sick man was I dealing with?

“I see that you’re wondering what you might be in store for here, young lady. I realize it isn’t the most comforting thing, being paralyzed and unable to speak, but I assure you wholeheartedly that it is not only necessary but also the most humane thing.” His booming voice was now a whisper, and the cockiness in his blue eyes had been replaced by something I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining the sympathy in them or even if it mattered. 

People who did these things didn’t feel guilty, and clearly the rest of the rich and powerful were in on his sick and twisted game. His commercial photos, many of which could be seen on television and in national magazines, showed the female models covered provocatively but tastefully in different foods. No one but me and the people in the auction house could possibly imagine what he did with the poor girls after those photos were taken. Now, I supposed, I was about to find out. 

“Blink if you’d like to know why you’re going to end up like Miss Anabell in those photos. If not, I’ll understand.” His coy smile made me want to rip his face with my nails. Part of me wanted to get this over with, to go somewhere else in my mind and try not to pay any attention to what terrors were happening to my body. But, the journalist in me wouldn’t rest until I knew the other side of the story. My eyelids felt heavy and sore as I blinked them once. Theo smiled and slowly began to drag sharp scissors over the thin fabric of my clothes, slicing them to shreds within seconds. His voice was even quieter than before as he spoke. “What I said back at the auction was true, ya know. True beauty is rare and hard to come by. Why, the Gods themselves are the only ones who truly know. Gods and…other such creatures.”

He paused, gathered the shreds of my clothes and turned to shove the rags into the same shopping bags he emptied earlier. My throat felt dry and I strongly suspected this man would make this long and agonizing. I thought of my parents back in Kansas and wondered if they’d ever know what happened to their little girl. Then I wondered if things would have worked out differently if I’d not bothered to shower that morning, or if I’d cut off my long hair into a sensible bob like my sister advised last week. This man saw some kind of beauty in me, a kind that compelled him to take my life. In fact, the personalized invitation on my desk back at the office indicated he’d seen me long before I’d even stepped into that auction house. 

He turned with a palette and a large paintbrush that smelled of chocolate. Slowly, he painted the thick, cold liquid down my cheeks and neck, paying close attention to each brush stroke. Occasionally he’d stop to snap a photo then continue his work. I tried very hard not to look terrified in the pictures. If I were to be a piece in his portfolio I wouldn’t be remembered for being scared. That was the only power I had left. 

“When I say other such creatures…well, I mean the kinds that exist beyond human comprehension. They don’t bother with us humans very often but there are some who give out favors for certain services.”

Whatever this monster was trying to say was completely beyond me. It was the ramblings of a madman, maybe the justifications that the demons in his mind gave him for taking innocent women’s lives. Despite my inability to move I could feel my muscles tense up and shiver with the terror that I was desperately trying to press down. When Theo wrapped his arms around me and picked me up like a broken doll I knew my time was up. He laid me down on the wooden floor of his studio and gently positioned me as if I were a flower arrangement that someone had absentmindedly dropped on the ground. 

The sound of my limbs being broken echoed off the walls, reminding me of the sound of broken twigs on the long hikes when I was a child. When he was finally pleased with his presentation he stepped back to observe and snap several more photos. 

Before I could close my eyes and give in to the terrible trembling from within, something caught my attention from the corner. It shifted in the darkness, impatient and growling. The same horror that was gripping me was suddenly written all over Theo Thorpe’s wrinkled face. I wanted to scream, to run, to toss the artist to whatever was now making its way over to me, but all I could do was cry. 

Tears poured down my face as a massive creature with long dripping teeth leaned over to take in my scent. “Sweet,” the terrible, dark voice said as it slowly peeled away my skin and ate it, savoring the chocolate coated treat as if it was its favorite. In the background, Theo turned away in disgust, shivering uncontrollably from the vile sounds that now filled the room. I heard his vomit splatter on the floor before I slowly allowed myself to drift away.

---

Thanks for reading!

As always All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or used in any form without prior written permission from the author.