Jester; A Short Story TW || Body Horror, Body Dysmorphia, Psychological Horror! You’ve been warned! This story is inspired by the horrible things that I’ve watched people go through and seen people feel about their bodies. It might just be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy. __________________________________________ My head is ringing and pounding. My heart is biting at the flesh in my chest. Breathe in. Breathe out. I lift my head off of the concrete floor, my body sore from laying there. I feel cold, damp clothes on my body, hugging my skin in all the wrong places. Too tight. Too loose. Too loose. Not loose enough. I pull myself onto my knees, my head too heavy, as I look down at the red and blue fabric, adorned with gold, stretched along my skin. I pull at the hem of the tunic in an attempt to take it off, but sharp pains echo through my skin as I tug. I inspect more closely, and run my fingers along a seam where fabric meets skin. No. No. NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNONONONONONONONO. I pull harder and harder on the tunic. More pain. But I have to get it off. I have to. I scream, damaging my already sore throat. I thrash and I pull and I scream and my head shakes violently but nothing changes. Breathe in. Breathe out. I manage to calm myself as a hot tear runs down my cheek. I’m still shaking. Now someone is touching my neck. They’re laughing. I turn around to see nobody there. They are still laughing. I shake harder and more violently as a look around, every corner of the room. They’re still laughing, still touching my neck; I see no one at all. My eyes land on a mirror, mounted in solidarity on the far wall. I squint but the sight of me is a blur of red and blue. Breathe in. Breathe out. I step closer. I clench my fists to help ease the shaking. They’re still laughing. I take another step, watching the solemn figure grow closer as well. Laughter. As I take another step closer, I see myself. A jester. I dash the rest of the distance to the mirror. NoNoNoNoNoNO. The jester cap upon my head, matching with the tunic, laughs at me, caressing my neck as I shake and cry and scream. And scream and scream. I claw at the stitching in my forehead, looking for the curly blond hair that makes me feel like me. The jester’s cap does not budge. The gold bells laugh at me and nibble on my neck again. I’m no longer in control. I watch from my eyes as a beast screeches and hollers. They sound like my screams but they are not mine. The beast bangs my head against the mirror. Bang. Bang. BANG. Louder and harder and louder and harder. The bells cackle as the beast continues to scream in agony. I just watch. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG My vision darkens as my head pounds more and more internally. Then darkness, I feel the beast subside and direct myself to the center of the room. I’m tired. Breathe in. Breathe out. -hart <3
