A Perfect Fit published in Twisted South Magazine

My short horror story entitled A Perfect Fit has just been published in the spring issue of Twisted South Magazine.  

I like the idea of writing thought-provoking horror. There is nothing like an evil protagonist riddled with psychosis, lurking under the skin of a seemingly normal, god-fearing person. 

In my short story, A Perfect Fit, Barbara Williams imposes vigorous perfection upon herself and her entourage and counts upon the social rules and regulations laid out by the church to contain the pustulant blackness that is her soul from oozing out.

But the Forces That Be have something else in store for the perfectly contained Mrs. Williams; true nature always finds a way to break free. In A Perfect Fit, this force is found in a mysterious hat that is irresistible to the eye of the beholder. And once Mrs. Williams puts the hat on … well, let's just say, she sees things from an entirely new perspective. 

Below is an excerpt. Enjoy. 

Click here to find a store near you where you can buy a copy and read the rest.

Mrs. Williams said that she would arrange the flowers herself. The kitchen staff had no time and the maids were busy with other chores. Besides, she found a secret pleasure in arranging flowers. Some said cleanliness was next to godliness, but Barbara Williams knew this wasn’t true. Perfection was next to godliness, and nothing brought her more pleasure than a perfectly arranged bouquet of soft-colored, aromatic, fresh-cut, spring flowers. 


“There,” she exclaimed with satisfaction as she stepped back to survey her handiwork. A dozen tables, elegantly draped with fine linens and set with delicate Waterford crystal, French china and silver flatware, waited for her guests. The gardeners had been up since dawn, raking the lawn one last time and setting up the gazebo for the string quartet. Barbara glanced up at the sky and nodded her approval, a perfect day for a perfect Garden Party. 


Humming Faith of our Fathers, she gathered up a few stray leaves on her way up the walk. She paused in the middle of the arched bridge and turned to admire the water as it sparkled a myriad of diamonds under the midday sun. Barbara indulged in a small moment of satisfaction before reminding herself that more preparations remained before her guests arrived. 


Barbara felt thankful for all she had: a hardworking husband, two beautiful children, three grandchildren and a beautiful home. Much more than she felt she deserved. One so fortunate should always give to the less fortunate. The price of a seat at Mrs. Williams’ highly anticipated, annual Garden Party didn’t come cheap. She rewarded her guests with elegant cuisine, imported Chablis, a string quartet, the finest of speakers and—of course—discreet journalists for good press. All the proceeds of her Garden Parties went to charity.


At last everything was in order. Barbara had lined up the staff and given her strict instructions on greeting and serving her guests. Her critical eye had examined the appetizers, entrees and deserts. All that remained was to make herself as perfectly presentable as all the rest.


She passed from the kitchen, through the private dining room, into the salon and out into the open and spacious foyer, passing a white-gloved hand along various pieces of furniture and objets d’art as she went. She discovered to her satisfaction that the new head of staff was training the help much better than the last one, for there was hardly a speck of dust on her white glove.


Barbara came to a sudden halt when her eyes fell upon an exquisite hatbox perched next to a towering vase of irises on the circular mahogany table in the foyer.


“Oh my!” she declared, thrown by the unexpectedness of it all.


She cautiously approached the hatbox, an appreciative eye noting it’s rare, crocodile skin covering. Its pattern was soothing next to the deep blue of the irises. Its lid was tied with a shimmering pale green satin ribbon. She paused with her white-gloved hand inches from the satin ribbon as guilty pleasure coursed through her veins. “Who could this be for?” she said aloud, knowing quite well it was for her. 


Giggling, she untied the ribbon. The lid lifted with a gentle whoosh and the fragrance of her own sweet perfume wafted up. “Oh my!” she clapped her gloved hands together in glee. Nestled in soft pale-green tissue paper was the most tasteful hat. “Oh, what a love!” Barbara chortled as she peered into the box. 


Then, twirling around, she snatched up the foyer phone and dialed her husband’s office. “Yes, Mrs. Williams for Mr. Williams, please,” she said into the speaker. A pause and then, “Darling! Oh, you shouldn’t have! Well, the hat of course! Its exquisite and you’ve managed to match the colors in my dress.”


“The hat! The hat you left for me. The one in the foyer,” Barbara said in a confused and slightly irritated tone. A pause, “Well, then who did?” 


Just then the clock chimed. Startled, Barbara said into the speaker, “Well, I must go. This unexpected frivolity has caused me to run behind schedule. I must be ready when the guests arrive!” Then, an absent, “Good-bye, Darling.”


A cloud had darkened Barbara’s day. She had no tolerance for the unexpected. Normally she wouldn’t stand for it. She would find out who had given her the hat and let them know that she was perfectly capable of buying her own hats, thank you very much. The hat was, well … beyond lovely. And wouldn’t she just be dashing and glamorous wearing it in front of everyone and the press?


Upstairs in her bedroom, Barbara stood in front of her full-length mirror. She smoothed her floral, silk dress against her stockings, turned a half turn while lifting one heel off the floor and admired her pale yellow pumps. Then she double-checked her lipstick close up and reached for the hatbox on her bed. She felt a surge of excitement as she lifted the hat from its box.


“Oh!” she gushed as she noted just how perfectly the hat matched her dress. A slight frown creased her brow as she wondered again who could have given her the gift.  She expeditiously brushed the thought away and the frown disappeared. She would wear the hat.


As she lifted the hat in the air, she felt strangely giddy and thrilled. She used both hands to lower the hat carefully onto her perfectly-coifed, grey hair. A strong flash like a lightning bolt burst into her hands and shot through her veins. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, letting go of the hat. Instead of tumbling to the floor, the hat, pulled by unseen hands, snapped quickly into place upon her head.


“OH!” Barbara cried out as she shook her head slightly. Another burst of energy shot through her body, as though she were a machine that had just been plugged in. Barbara’s eyes grew wide, watered and were instantly bloodshot. Her teeth chattered. A horrendous shrill screeching filled her ears.


The next “OH!” that came from her lips was of a more guttural nature. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she grunted, not unlike an animal. Her limbs jerked in spasms, her body moving as though attached to the strings of a mad puppeteer. 


Visions flashed through her mind in three-dimensional high definition. Images of her husband, naked, tangled up in the limbs of a woman much more slender than herself. The two naked people were doing disgusting things! In broad daylight! In her very own bed!


Barbara had always felt that sex was something dirty, God’s one imperfection, a necessary evil to be done only in the name of propagation. 


Showing no mercy, the visions continued. Barbara saw her husband’s engorged member going in and out of the woman’s stretched lips, she saw him place his head between the woman’s smooth, firm thighs. She saw them fuck—for fuck was the only word that Barbara knew to describe such obscene acts—in ways that she had not even known existed. 


For one moment, the part of Barbara Williams that remained intact attempted to fight back. Her eyes returned to their normal position and opened wide with determination. She reached up with her hands and attempted to wrench the hat off. A shrill, deafening scream filled the air, mingling with her own as she sagged under the pain that pulsed through her head, all the way down to her feet. 


And then, the hat showed her the face of the woman who had cavorted naked, unnaturally and sinfully with her husband in her bed. Barbara felt better. 


That face was the face of her neighbor and friend, Nancy Bullock.


The hat then showed Barbara exactly what to do.

Click here to find a store near you where you can buy a copy and read the rest.

For more scary stories, click on my blog link "Ghostly Stories" to the right

Brrr, gros bisous qui fait peur et a demain!

Love, Charley