The Toe

A few months ago I had a premonition.  A few weeks ago, as I was writing an outline for a book idea, my pencil barfed: make it gory. The following is a medley of these two events….and an accurate depiction of what the future holds for me.

The shower cascaded down her back, the steaming hot water rinsed her filth down the drain.  Her muscles ached with remnants of her days’ pursuit: Mr. James Franco.  Sure, some would call her a stalker, but she knew that it was more akin to a life’s purpose.  It’s not that she pictured them in love or married, but she did have a deep yearning to feel his freshly waxed flesh beneath her finger-tips.  Whether that flesh was dead or alive was completely up to him.

She tilted her head back and let the water pelt her face. She closed her eyes and soaked it in, the water cleansing inside and out.

A sharp pain in her right foot jolted her.  She lifted her foot and reached down and felt her toe.  “Ouch!” she exclaimed and quickly brought her finger up and looked at it.  A small red welt rose up on her fingertip.  She instinctively stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked. It felt better.   If she had only looked a moment longer, she may have detected the serrated edge around the welt, the telltale sign of a bite, and she just may have been able to stop the attack.

She ignored her throbbing finger and leaned into the shower once more, the heat turned her flesh a vibrant pink.  She found her belly button with her left index finger and dug in, a habit she had had since a child, there was times in her life she tried to break it but now, at 38 years old, she had surrendered to her quirks.  She lifted her finger to her nose and inhaled.


Her eyes popped open.  Who said that?  She peeled the shower curtain open – just enough to poke her head out – the bathroom door was still firmly shut, she was alone.

Convinced she was hearing things; she pulled the shower curtain back and stuck her head under the shower. The roar of the water in her ears drowned out the small voice from below, a small groan.

An odd sensation crept up her right leg. Numbness oscillated with a gentle sting. Convinced her leg was falling asleep, she wiggled her right foot. Suddenly with a resounding POP her right toe separated from her body. The pain so severe she could only gasp.  Blood poured freely from the mangled hole where her toe used to be and swirled down the drain.  She watched, in shock, mesmerized by the blood bath at her feet.  She didn’t see that her toe had ascended, had crawled up the shower wall and was now closing in on her face.

“Bitch!” her toe shouted.

She looked up, he leapt and with a splat of hot blood he landed on her cheek.  She flailed backward, her hands flying to her face but without her precious toe to help her balance she slipped on the bloody tub floor and slammed backwards.  She fell onto her back and gasped as the wind knocked out of her. All the while her toe held his vice like grip on her cheek.

The toe didn’t waste any time; as soon as she fell he hopped with shocking agility to her eye, dug his nail in and popped her eyeball out. It hung from its optic nerve and slapped against her cheek.

Now she found her voice and she shrieked.

The Toe contemplated his next move. He could drag it out, torture her some more and relish in his revenge. But she was being uncooperative, her shriek turned into hitching sobs and the sound was sure to attract attention.  He was finally free, his diabolical plan had been in the works for decades and it was time to shut this bitch up once and for all.

With a heaving sob she bellowed for help:  JAMES!  SAVE ME!! Leaving her mouth agape, calling for her love, was her fatal error.  With a quick hop The Toe jumped into her mouth and rammed down her throat.  With expert dexterity he wrapped his sinewy entrails around her still beating heart and then hopped back out. Braced on her chin and with a groan he pulled and tore her heart from her chest cavity and yanked it out her gaping word-hole.

Deep crimson blood poured from her mouth, her eye socket and her mangled foot.  A stump of bone that stuck out from her mangled toe-hole twitched as the last of her life drained out.

The Toe looked down at her heart with disgust and tossed the clotted muscle aside. He hopped off her face and climbed to the summit of the tub’s side. He had done it. Free at last. When he reached the crest he turned back to admire his handy work and he chuckled at the sight of her mangled corpse.  He had silenced the old crone for good.

It was with a light in his heart he had never felt before that he hopped off the edge of that tub and forged into his future.