Throwback Tales: Wooden Lips

Wooden Lips
By K.Z. Morano

The cellar door is a wound, a break on the earth’s skin. It is a gash in the ground where malignant thoughts trickle like blood into the cesspit of my filthy brain. The cellar door is a mouth… the wooden lips of a whore whispering obscenities into my ear, sticking her spectral tongue into my acoustic tunnels and to the roof of my skull to caress murderous designs into being.

She tells me what she wants me to do.

She tells me what I want to do.

She speaks to me even with her lips tightly shut, bolted with heavy metal.

The cellar door is hungry. And her cries follow me even to my sleep, soft fragmented sobs that swell into angry screams as midnight approaches and the moon’s fat face pales from the anticipated terror.

I try to fight her, I swear, every single time.

But then there’s the scratch… the sound of sharp fingernails raking against the door, creating deep cuts into the sensitive sheath of my sanity.

Feed me, she says.

I can hear the seismic growling of her empty belly, persistently reminding me of my duty. I walk towards the door… that other door. I turn the knob cautiously as if the monster were on the other side. The rusty joints creak to reveal the sacrificial lambs, their eyes floating towards me, terror blanching their faces.

I have learned to ignore their fright. It is merely a job that must be done. I pick one, a little boy, this time. As I free him from his shackles, a tiny whimper of protest issues forth from dry cracked lips. But he comes with me, nevertheless, the beautiful bleatless baby sheep, with his skin smooth and tight over his fragile skeleton.

I take him to the kitchen where I carve off that skin. I do it with a blank face, with studied precision. Then I stare into my work—that amorphous figure of glistening pink flesh. Peeled of all pretensions, he is nothing but meat—a sexless, lifeless substance, her evening meal. I take his flayed body outside where stars always over-sprinkle the sky… falsely festive, my co-conspirators, for they have witnessed me doing this for years and years.

I unlock the cellar door, cautiously, reverently. Now that her lips are parted, I can hear her voice more clearly, murmurous sounds of pleasure sliding back and forth in her muddy throat. Her malodorous breath reaches my nose—the smell of the earth’s intestines, the stench of digested matter, of pulped flesh, of decaying bodies.

The meat sticks to my flesh, clings to me as if seeking protection. I drop it into the cellar door, into that gaping mouth and into that throat… that tunnel stretching into eternity. It may take a while to satisfy her. Yes, it may take a very long time. And I have devoted my entire life simply for that purpose. I replace the locks on her lips… those wooden cellar lips, knowing that she’ll be quiet, pacified for now.

Often, I wonder what would come of this, sure that someday, they—all the children that I have fed her—will return, resplendent in their new skin. Will they come for me then? Will they be grateful? Or will they exact their vengeance? Only time will tell.

How long, I wonder, will the locks be able to hold the door?

How long before they come crawling out of her pestilential hole?

My sleep becomes plagued with all these thoughts, my pillows always bloody like butchered sheep. I wash my hands often, over and over, until they are raw. Right now, there is only one thing I know. I serve that voice in my head… the voice of whatever unutterable monstrosity that dwells beneath the cellar door.

Copyright: © 2013 K.Z. Morano

Note: First appeared in Cellar Door Volume II: Words of Beauty, Tales of Terror, JWK Fiction, December 2013 and
Reprinted in Best of Horror 2013, JWK Fiction, August 2014

Sooo… 10 days until Halloween and it just occurred to me that I don’t have any scary stories coming out this month! 😦 However, some of my stories will be appearing in various anthologies in November, December, and of course, early 2015. I’ve been receiving some invitations to write for various anthos and the themes are just so sooo awesome that I find it hard to resist! 🙂 In the meantime, I hope you enjoy some of my previously published pieces. The rights have reverted back to me so I can now post them here on my blog for everyone to read. Thanks for reading the story! 😉 xoxo

100 Nightmares on Google Play

Just a quick note: You can now purchase 100 Nightmares (epub version) on Google play!

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If you haven’t read it yet, now is a great time to grab a copy. 😉 Tell your friends.
And reviews are always greatly appreciated.

xo K.Z.

Words and Whispers

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

He rarely left that desk.

For years, he ensorcelled the public with haunting stories spawned from his imagination yet refused to bask in the brilliance of his fame.

Some dismissed it as cheap tactic, speculating that there was no single mysterious author but a group of ghost writers.

Fans camped outside his fortress. The media met only with agents of glib tongues and swollen pockets.

They said he answered to disembodied whispers.

His last words were jumbled letters carved into the ancient desk, engraved into emaciated flesh…

Indecipherable, except for the words: “Free us” penned shakily in sick, diluted blood.

JWK Fiction Best of Horror 2013

Now available on Amazon!

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JWK Fiction Best of Horror 2013

This is a collection of the very best horror fiction and poetry published from anthologies and collections in 2013. Including my story, Wooden Lips from Cellar Door Volume II: Words of Beauty, Tales of Terror

FRESH FEAR

Scathe meic Beorh God of the Winds
Anna Taborska Out of the Light

SERIAL KILLERS ITERUM

Paula D. Ashe The Mother of All Monsters
William Cook Return of the Creep

GRAVE ROBBERS

James S. Dorr The Sidewalk
Chantal Noordeloos Angel’s Grave

HELL

Paula Ashe Because You Watched
A Henry Keene Justine

SONGS FOR THE RAVEN

Julienne Lee The Gate
Paula Ashe Bereft

CHILDREN & OTHER WICKED THINGS
Pinprick Scathe meic Beorh

RICH ORTH POETRY GIRLS

Facsimiles! To My LoraLee
Wisping Words! 10/04/12 11:07pm

SEX DRUGS & HORROR

K. Trap Jones Chalk
Michael Lindquist Ashtray Kiss

BARNYARD HORROR

Greg McWhorter The Horror at Engle Farm
Kerry G. S. Lipp Misery

ROGER COWIN SUCCULENT FLESH

BELLA

SERIAL KILLERS TRES TRIA

Glenn Rolfe The Neighbor
Mike Jansen Brood Carnival

INDIANA CRIME REVIEW 2013

William J Fedigan Happy as Cotton Candy
Greg McWhorter The Twilight of Men’s Lives

BONES

Lily Childs The Ossillatrice Shift
Philip Harris The Bone Boy

CELLAR DOOR

Michael Randolph Luminescence
T. Fox Dunham Moving Past the Ashes

UGLY BABIES

Dan Dillard Henrietta’s Skirt
Essel Pratt Immaculate Deception

INDIANA HORROR REVIEW 2013

A. Henry Keene Delores
Glenn Rolfe In the Basement of the Amazing Alex Cucumber

CELLAR DOOR II

Dona Fox The Door
Dona Fox Me and My . . .
Dona Fox Magur
Dona Fox The Wonder Cave
K. Z. Morano Wooden Lips

Check it out! 🙂 xo