Boils on the Brain
Tom Raimbault
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Tom Raimbault
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At first I needed to rub my eyes and shake my head -- anything to come to my senses. Surely the sight of such a Heavenly creature could be deemed a hallucination or momentary dream. But the closer this creature of beauty drew near, I could see with ever clearness that this truly was an angel on Earth. Long, flowing, raven hair; silken face, and delicate, white skin -- I must learn more of this demi-goddess. In a chivalrous introduction, so gallant and warm-hearted, I gently took her hand and lay a kiss so soft and sweet.
And then she spoke, "My name is Vivian." The words would produce a stench so vile, so putrid, and so suggestive of swollen death that was soon to burst forth with maggots and slime of that which lay in the swamp -- dead.
My response was simply a hurl of vomit. I maintained my chivalry, of course, and aimed the projectile away from the woman. It was her mouth: jagged, gangly teeth with swollen gums and a tongue that harbored some fungal infection likened to a leprosy or some deadly strep. "Forgive me woman; I am feeling ill today." I could only run off, gagging at the thought of what was seen and smelt.
Outside of her dental condition, I remained mesmerized by her beauty. What a tragedy that such a fine, young woman should be damned by an overpowering ugliness! Sadly observing from a distance was the only alternative to drinking in such a daughter of Venus. And sometimes she would catch sight of my admiration, offering a subtle smile from the twinkle in her eyes. Perfect, for me: nothing more, nothing less. A smile from her mouth might display those rotting teeth, bleeding gums, and disease-laden tongue.
At night I would lay awake and hold her image of beauty in my mind while wondering what sort of person Vivian is. Surely she has difficulty attracting suitors for her hand in marriage and perhaps this caused her to develop a character of gentle-sweetness, kindness and humility. Perhaps there is no other woman to offer a love so infallible and true. And if one could ignore the ugliness of a rotting mouth and the stench of maggot-infested carrion which is buried beneath the earth, her angelic beauty could be enjoyed for many years to come.
I finally approached her one morning in March, with a winter scarf wrapped tightly around my face. "Vivian, please accept my pardon! I am embarrassed of our last encounter and no longer feel ill."
She spoke, as I quickly looked away. And the scarf had slightly filtered the stench from her mouth -- enough to prevent the urge to vomit. "You have my pardon. But it's such a shame that you should wear a scarf so tightly around your face when only yesterday it was the equinox of spring."
"True, my beautiful Vivian; the bitter cold from winter has ended. But there remains a slight chill in the air. You feel it not? I catch cold easily and won't remove the scarf until the breath of spring has warmed the ground."
She seemed to understand, but I soon took notice of the peculiar look on her face -- that is whenever I happened to momentarily glance up. I assumed it was brought on by her curiosity of why I most-often gazed at the ground while conversing. "Your pardon, again, I ask of you Vivian. Your beauty intimidates me, leaving me feel unworthy to look into your eyes." But I did lock eyes with the Earthly-angel while speaking at that moment. And my compliment must have melted her heart for it would produce a smile which revealed her jagged, gangly teeth with swollen gums. Simply exposing her mouth in that manner brought forth the stench from her tongue that harbored some fungal infection likened to leprosy or some deadly strep. I controlled my gag, "I must go quickly now! I have an appointment to keep and am running late. But I will see you again soon!"
Later that day, I believed myself to have come down with an unpleasant boil on my brain. It was feared that the stench from Vivian had penetrated the nasal passages and irritated the tissue of my brain, thereby causing a boil. Since this malady is nothing to take lightly, I paid a visit to the doctor who only advised me of the full moon's passing which was close to a crescent.
In his words, "A full moon has been noted to produce irrational behaviors, to many. At this time, we should not be terribly concerned for a boil would surely go away now that the waning gibbous has passed. Do take rest when possible and try not to take petty matters to heart."
So I took the doctor's advice and prognosis. And although the obsession with Vivian could be considered a petty matter, it was nearly impossible not to take it to heart. The breath of spring was only weeks... perhaps days away, and the use of a scarf wrapped tightly around my face would be impractical. There had to be an inconspicuous alternative to avoiding the unbearable stench of Vivian's mouth.
Overnight I had thought of the perfect solution! Now in the season of Easter, the 40 days dictation from the church of fasting from pleasures had ended. In the change of season, it would be appropriate to present Vivian a gift of assorted chocolates and candies for they would most-likely sweeten the mouth and disguise any deathly smells. I would visit the confectioner, the following morning, and purchase a large basket of chocolates and various sweet candies -- the best that money could obtain.
And so I had approached the Earthly-angel with a decorated basket suggesting the birth of spring and the mating of rabbits. "My beautiful Vivian, do take this gift of fine chocolates and candies as a symbol of my infatuation for you." The token had struck the very arrow of cupid through her heart which produced an uncontrollable smile, displaying her horrific teeth! "Until we meet again, do enjoy all the confections of my love for you!" I ran off, leaving my love alone with the basket.
The moon's crescent had long-passed and was now in its absence; but my irrational behaviors continued as the boil on my brain had not passed. In fact, it was feared that perhaps two sat on the tissue, possibly blocking the flow of blood and retarding any thoughts and activities of a sound man. Another visit to the doctor was given in which he would ask, "Do you hold a political office?"
"No, Doctor; why should this be important?"
"It is common for an unpopular figure of politics to have received a dreadful spell cast by a witch. Even if you do not hold a political office, have you recently wronged a witch?"
Again, my answer was no. "I'm a simple man who seeks to live in harmony with those around me. To molest a witch and stir her anger's arousal would be inconceivable for me."
"Very well then; before we follow the steps of treatment, we should try first what is least-risky. Drink plenty of tea and have some wine in the evening hours. This has been known to alleviate the discomforting effects of boils, even restore the circulation of blood to the mind's haven of reasoning.”
Spending the afternoon by the fire while sipping tea, thoughts of Vivian would cloud my head. Clearly the effect of the boils stopping the flow of blood to reasoning, the day dreams were, however, pleasant as I imagined her heart glow in fondness of me with every piece of chocolate eaten. And in the evening I drank wine -- thoughts of the Earthly-angel blossomed to fantasies as I wished for her presence in my home, lying with me in my bed. Perhaps drinking wine with her in all our days and night's together along with gifts of chocolate would produce a lover's breath so welcome and desired. But how long could this last? Too much wine can cause the mind to grow weary; and chocolates are costly when eaten as bread.
Speaking of bread, my stomach was hungry for something other than the day's diet of tea and wine. Half a loaf of bread from the baker, a sliver of cheese, and a sizable portion of horseradish was all my kitchen could offer. And then inspiration would hit me with the cleverest solution for tolerating the stench of Vivian. A bit of horseradish, buried deep within my nasal passage, would overpower the sense of smell -- no more need for a winter's scarf or drowning my love in excessive wine and chocolates!
To test my solution's effectiveness I had arranged for some close friends to join me for a luncheon at the local cafe with a woman who I claimed would soon receive my proposal for marriage. My supposition: if my friends and possibly servers gagged at the stench of Vivian while I remained unaffected, then the usefulness of horseradish would be proven.
Much to my delight, Vivian eagerly accepted an invitation to the luncheon. With the horseradish buried deep within my nose, we sat alone, waiting for the remaining guests to join us. "Vivian, I have some friends I would like you to meet. They should soon arrive." And then the horseradish caused a burning to my sinuses which produced a wetting in my eyes. I could only gaze into her face, "Can you not see why I avoid looking so deeply at you, Vivian? My ever-growing infatuation can be shown in the melting of my eyes: tears to reveal a longing for our shared love."
Just then, the host had announced the additional guests' arrival. But then he mysteriously gagged in near upheaval while drawing close to our table. And my friends would do the same! Sitting down, they all simultaneously gagged and spat on the floor while quickly drawing winter scarves over their faces. "Forgive me!” said one of them. "It's a bit drafty in here; you feel it not? I'm afraid to catch cold." The others agreed and made similar statements.
Then it was time to introduce my Earthly-angel, "I want you all to meet someone who is very special to me. Vivian has caught my eye and I sense a growing infatuation turn to feelings of love."
The statement produced a low uproar among my dozen friends. "Did you say Vivian?"
"Why yes; isn't she beautiful with long, flowing, raven hair; silken face, and delicate, white skin? I find a great battle within, sometimes, not to gaze at her smooth bosoms held tightly together. And then her eyes... I remain uncomfortable looking deeply into her face as it produces tears. See how they cry in a longing for a shared love together?" The burning from the horseradish was maddening, and the statement of my eyes was absurd. But my supposition held true as I was the only one not in need of a winter scarf over my face.
I commented on the condition of my health as the server approached who wore a winter scarf. "I am being treated for a boil or two on my brain and the doctor has suggested that I drink wine to alleviate any thoughts irrational. Do bring a carafe of wine for every 3 guests -- including myself and Vivian. And ensure that the grape would suit the favor of my dear Vivian."
"Right away, sir!"
And so we drank, ate, and laughed -- all the while my eyes filled with tears. And as my becoming love sat beside me I knew that surely the wine had sweetened her breath. How I longed to kiss her lips! But when the time came, my eyes should be closed in hopes that the inside of her horrific mouth would not remind me of the vile stench.
In the evening, many hours past the luncheon which had proven my horseradish supposition, there came a knock at my door which would produce my dear and close friend who was among those who had joined Vivian and me.
I was surprised, "What brings you so late in the evening? Is everything alright?"
My dear and close friend was hesitant, "Well, some of us had met after the luncheon today and we spoke of this woman, Vivian, who you had mentioned might receive a proposal for marriage from you. It was her name... and... Well, you can't deny the terrifying sight of her mouth and the putrid, sickly smell that comes from it."
I held my composure, trying not to show my impatience and disappointment at their harsh criticisms. Yes, go on... I suppose you have something to warn me of. Perhaps I won't have your blessing if I do propose."
"No, it's not that. Have you ever heard of Vivian -- the legend?"
"No..."
My dear and close friend continued, "Each of us had concluded that the one who had dined this afternoon is THE legendary Vivian. Years ago, her mouth wasn't so offensive with its vile stench and rotting insides; but she had always been beautiful. It was in the years when Vivian was becoming a woman, that a wicked witch had grown jealous of the beauty that was so intoxicating and alluring. As a result, she cast a spell that would afflict Vivian with leprosy of the mouth so that her teeth, gums and tongue would rot. And the disease would create an unbearable stench, so powerful, that those exposed would fall to a deathly illness."
With every word spoken, my outrage had grown to the point that I nearly seized my dear and close friend and beat him. I shouted, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY SUGGESTING THAT A WITCH HAD PLACED A SPELL ON VIVIAN?"
My dear and close friend remained calm, "Please try and understand; I do believe it is for your own good."
My emerging despise for the pathetic excuse of a friend caused thoughts of beating and possible murder. But then a terrible fright had overcome me, "Has anyone come down with boils on the brain because of Vivian?"
"Certainly... I suppose..."
I quickly bid my dear and close friend off and then paid a visit to the doctor's home for an emergency, evening visit in which I revealed my fear that the boils had worsened. According to him, a more serious regimen -- one that I did not like -- should be followed, and we quickly departed for his place of practice.
"Doctor, please assure me that you do not have in mind to drive a spike through the skull for purposes of draining the boil."
His answer had calmed my fears, "The spike should only be used as a last result. Tonight you will only be hung up-side down until the light of morning. The force of that which holds Earthly objects to the ground might break open the infected matter of the boil so that it could drain properly.”
And so my feet were shackled and supported by two chains which hung from the support beam of the building. The doctor would leave for his home to resume a night full rest. The initial moments of treatment were unpleasant, but bearable. But as the hours progressed, the pressure to my skull produced a throbbing pain as the boil fought back its breaking. By dawn, screams of agony echoed through the building hoping the doctor would soon return to release me. But what was this? He entered the area and quickly ran off, leaving me to further suffer.
Returning some time later, he brought with a priest who stood beside the doctor, commenting on my condition. "Yes, I do believe the Devil has possessed him. I can hear it in his maddened cries. A beating might force a relinquish of the demon. Remove his garments, but leave him hang."
I was stripped as I watched the priest take hold of a leather cow-whip with wooden handle. And then the first flog upon my back would produce drops of blood. Whipped and whipped, the relentless stings like those of Hell's serpents that bit with a fury caused uncontrollable weeping. I cried out for an intercession of the Divine to rid me of the boil. But the priest only whipped harder. "The Devil is almost relinquished now and the boil will soon subside." An overpowering weakness caused a spell of unconsciousness. I awoke on the doctor's table, lying on my stomach.
The doctor spoke while treating my wounds, "I have arranged for a carriage to bring you home. Do nothing but rest, continue to drink tea, and be sure not to take petty matters to heart. The Devil has been beaten from you; and matters unimportant that are digested by the heart, could provide a passage back in, for a demon. I will pay a visit at your house, in a few days, to examine your wounds and further assess the boil's healing. "
Lying on the back, in rest, was impossible! The open wounds were painful, but served as protection from the Devil's entering. And while nodding off in a restful nap, my dear and close friend had let himself in -- hearing of my recent treatment.
He spoke with empathy, "Are you doing well?"
It's painful -- the beating."
He tried to be encouraging, "Well I suppose it was the only thing to cure the boil brought on by the stench of Vivian."
"Vivian? Do you really think my becoming love was responsible for this illness?"
"Without conviction; I know this to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt."
A great sadness had fallen over me as I realized that Vivian could no longer be sought as my eternal companion. Damn that evil witch for her senseless wrong-doing! Not only had it cursed a beautiful woman, but it would cause a man to possibly die of a broken heart. I bid my dear and close friend off so that I could lay on my stomach, in self-pity.
Three days later, the Doctor had paid me a visit. I hadn't eaten or followed his prescribed treatment of taking tea throughout the day. And while he spoke, I only lay there in stupor of depression. It was soon concluded that despite the hanging and flogging, the boil had remained -- even worsened!
This would leave only one, final method of treatment. Only days ago I dreaded the penetration of a spike to my skull. Many have received such a treatment only to die some days later of injury to the brain. But a fear of death would not consume me now. A loss of Vivian would mean that I had lost everything. With nothing left to live for, death would be most-welcome.
The only thing dreaded was the inevitable possibility of pain as the hammer would strike at the metal pin, causing a rattle and possible explosion within my head. I awaited this while the doctor placed the point at the estimated location of the harmful boil.
I cried out to the doctor, "Just get it over, Doctor! No need to be gentle or compassionate. Nothing can be worse than the absence of my beloved, Vivian."
He momentarily removed the point from my head. "Vivian? Is this the name of your wife?"
"No, it's the woman who I have fallen in love with and probably the cause of my boil."
And then the doctor would speak of a new treatment with a more positive prognosis, provided I follow. "I wish you would have spoken of this Vivian before! For you see, we have been mistreating a common malady of the heart as if it were a serious boil. In truth, the treatment for your condition is an immediate holy union between you and this woman who you love. Arrange for a wedding, and I will check on your condition some days later.
Everyone in the town had gathered for that wedding, EVERYONE! The entire church was filled with people who wore winter scarves over their faces... in May! A crowd of people cluttered the streets outside -- many of whom I had never seen! With the horseradish in my nose and tears running in a need for our mutual love, thoughts of finally kissing the bride invaded while the priest spoke of love that is patient, kind, and enduring. It was then that I realized the truth behind so many visitors that were strangers to me. In morbid fascination, they awaited for me to join lips with the disease-laden mouth and tongue of Vivian.
"And so by the powers vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife; you may kiss the bride... You may kiss the bride..." Vivian smiled to display her gangly, yellow teeth; swollen gums, and leprosy-inflicted tongue. "MY SON! YOU MAY KISS THE BRIDE!" The church was in a mild-uproar.
Only a holy union could cure the malady, according to the doctor. I closed my eyes and held the image in my mind of times when I observed the Earthly-angel with her mouth closed. Our lips met as we engaged in the sweetest kiss. Her lips were soft as a rose so delicate and pleasing. And then the image of her terrifying smile invaded my mind as I carefully pulled away. What stood before me was Vivian in a glow, smiling ever-so widely, and teeth shining white with healthy mouth!
The priest announced before the church and God, "Let it be known: The witch's spell has been reversed! A man has finally taken Vivian’s hand in marriage!"
I carried my bride over the threshold of the house and finally removed the horseradish from my nose. And we lived our days enjoying wine and chocolates in moderation.
COMING AUTUMN 2010: The Tree Goddess
Copyright 2010 Tom Raimbault – All Rights Reserved!
Originally titled The Macabre Happenings of Fictional Mapleview, the autumn 2010 release of author Tom Raimbault will be named, The Tree Goddess. Blanketed by a sentience of ghostly creatures, deathly visits, and all other cries from the grave; the fictional town of Mapleview provides the perfect meaning to the word, macabre (pronounced muh-kah-bruh). The dead cry out in morbid sorrow for justice when suffering at the hands of those who pursue the dark side of humanity. Although buried and hidden from obvious eyes, the shrouded terror speaks through nightmares, terrifying visions, and bizarre apparitions. And if the cries aren't heard, the terror will appear in the physical world. Just ask one resident of Mapleview who awoke in bed, cuddling with the mummified corpse of a woman that had been dead for nearly 30 years! Not even the veteran detective of the Mapleview police force can provide answers for the bizarre phenomenon and mysterious disappearances that has seized the town.
Written by author Tom Raimbault -- a man who strives to exist in the realm of classic horror -- he views macabre as a trip: a journey beyond the very edge of life itself, where one discovers gratitude for a heart embedded with morals along with the reality of life-after-death. People who have journeyed beyond this vortex can find humor in macabre and say, "Thank God I'm not like the characters in that story!"
The novel should be released in autumn, hopefully before the Halloween season.
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