The following is a script for an episode of one of my unfinished projects; a horror podcast nicknamed “Frequencies”. TW: body horror

Bones. Moving bones. Shifting bones. Changing bones. Growing bones. Bones… do you ever think about the strange way people are shaped? Their bone structure, specifically. I mean, there are so many bones in some places and so few in others. But do you ever see bones at angles even stranger than usual? Arms pointed back further than they should be able, legs that almost seem to be attached to your back rather than your waist, or a torso twisted in a U shape. You don’t? Well, maybe you will now.

It started with Terry. No one liked Terry much, but seeing him the way he was still shook the entire neighborhood. I remember one time asking him about his wife, and that was the last time we spoke. He didn’t respond, of course; he just turned off his lawnmower and walked inside. I found out later that she overdosed on whatever she found at a recent hospital visit. He’d already been through enough… and then we saw him wrapped up in his own limbs.

The body was found in his bedroom, in a house with all the doors locked and windows bolted shut. Apparently, none of it meant anything to the authorities, but there was no way someone could make their body do… what Terry’s did. The arms wrapped around his back, twisted together like elegantly tied shoelaces. The legs pulled so tight around his entire torso, they were practically tearing in half. Oh, and his head was missing.

The night it happened, everyone in the neighborhood had received a text message from an unknown number. We later found out it was from Terry’s phone, but the text couldn’t have been made by him. It contained two photos of Terry. The first one showed him standing up, with an unusually large smile on his face, practically tearing his cheeks from how wide it was. Terry never smiled. The second one showed him twisted in that… position… now missing the head that showed so much joy in the previous photo.

The first time the police left the crime scene, they all wore expressions that said enough. Seeing the photo was bad enough, but seeing the body right there in front of them had damaged even the most experienced ones there. It was hard to hear them reassure us that we were in no danger and that they would conduct their investigation as swiftly as possible. In my mind, they could take all the time they wanted, as long as they actually caught whoever did it. There was no possible way Terry ended up that way himself, and besides, the texts proved someone else was in the house at the time. Somehow.

I sat on the porch with my daughter, Heather. Her father had left years ago, so it was just us and my boyfriend, Eric, who had just left for work. He was paranoid enough that leaving us alone at the house was something he simply couldn’t do. He ended up using all his yearly time off right after Terry’s death. I told him countless times to go back to work, and he finally did. But even now, months later, he still came home as early as he could to get back to us.

I still remember getting that text, staring at it on the couch with Eric while Heather watched TV, completely unaware of what we were looking at. She was so engaged by the show that she didn’t even notice us sit there in our silent terror, staring at the message that would change everything.

My phone buzzed, bringing me back to the real world. Eric was likely checking in; he’d been getting better about not letting his nerves get to him, but still randomly did it. I pulled it out, checked my messages, and saw it was from… an unknown number. With two images attached.

My heart pounded, threatening to leap out of my chest and fly to the moon. Heather had turned to me and asked what was wrong in her innocent, worried tone. I sat there, opening my mouth to speak but finding nothing could come out. Just a small whimper, enough to make Heather leap onto the porch swing I sat on and try to look at my phone. I shoved it into my pocket and muttered, “Let’s take this inside.” I picked up her paper and markers before she could say a thing and took her hand, pulling her back inside. Once she was set up on the kitchen table, with all the doors locked and curtains thrown shut, I sat on the couch and dared myself to open the text. I don’t know why, I should’ve just left it alone. But something in me felt the need to confirm, the need to see… the need to know if that twisted thing was back. Sure enough, it was.

A Latino boy, heavier set and in a gray hoodie. I knew who he was. I knew he was Erica’s kid. I knew his name was Jacob. He was leaving for college next Friday… but I suppose he wouldn’t be now. The first image showed him happy as ever, almost maniacally so. And in the second one… he was condensed to an almost perfect cube. His legs up and around his shoulders, his arms thrust under him, and his neck… no head in sight, just a flattened bit of bloody flesh where it used to be. It looked like someone put him through a compactor at a junkyard.

I didn’t leave that chair for 10 minutes. Even when Heather asked me if she could have some chocolate milk, she had to yell for me from the kitchen so many times she just poured it herself. Not like I cared, we usually watched her sugar consumption, but right now the only thing I could see in my mind was my own body, twisted and condensed like Erica’s kid. I didn’t cry. I didn’t vomit. I just sat there, unable to do anything but stare at it. I don’t know if it makes any sense, but I didn’t feel anything. I couldn’t feel anything—except the certainty that I wouldn’t be forgetting that image any time soon.

Eric flipped out when he got back. He called the police immediately and got to work as soon as he got off the phone. He triple-checked every window, turned the deadbolt on every door leading outside, and afterwards started discussing where we should move to. I didn’t know what to say, honestly. Eric was clueless as to what to do, but he was trying. Trying to protect his family from this… thing. He said we should stay at his parents’ house until things blew over. I didn’t respond, unsure if I could find the words to give to him, but by the end of the night, we were at his parents’ house, trying to get some sleep on the air mattress they’d set up in their living room. I don’t know how much I slept, or even if I slept. All I could see was that image, that thing… that thing that would continue what it was doing because the police were too stupid to find it. That thing that would continue to bend, twist, and tear apart whoever it deemed worthy. That thing that would make them smile so wide, before taking the head, still smiling, and turning their bodies into… that.

Three nights later, we were still there. I couldn’t stand it. Not only did his parents clearly not like me, but the idea of me sitting here safe and sound while the rest of the neighborhood was still there, continuing on despite this… I couldn’t take it. So one night, I acted.

I made sure Eric and Heather were fast asleep first, and then I got out of bed. Something had come over me, and I felt like the only thing to do was to drive back to my house and face it. It had gone on long enough without anyone facing it head-on. None of this should’ve made sense, but it sounded right. So I put on my jacket, grabbed my purse, jumped into our little SUV, and drove like hell.

I pulled into our driveway, my heart thumping. I saw movement in the house. It was in there, waiting for me. I didn’t think, I just moved. If I had stopped to think, I would’ve driven away and never looked back. Maybe that would’ve been wise, but something compelled me to keep going. I thrust the keys into the front door and twisted the knob. In my purse, my phone was ringing nonstop. I silenced it.

Inside, the house didn’t have a single sound to it. No creaking in the wood, no squeaking in the door’s hinges, nothing. It was like walking into an empty void. I shut the door behind me and set my purse down, walking to the living room. It was standing in front of the TV, Heather’s favorite show playing on maximum volume, with its many arms hanging loose, its legs bouncing, and its head twisting around. It didn’t face me, but I knew it was aware of me.

My face felt soft, almost numb as my legs moved to the couch like they had a mind of their own. I didn’t have a say in it, but even then, I still couldn’t pull my eyes off the thing in front of me. The thing was smiling. Eyes like a human, lips like a human, mouth like a human, but so many teeth… so… many… beautiful teeth. The smile that spread across its face was so wide I could see its cheeks stretching beyond its own face. A pure, blinding smile. But it wasn’t human.

It stepped toward me. I couldn’t move. My body was frozen, locked into place. When it stretched its limbs, wrapping its arms around my body, it was more than I could handle. I struggled to breathe, but no matter how much I forced myself to try and scream, my throat couldn’t open. There was no way out now. It was too late.

The last thing I saw was its many arms reaching for me, grabbing me, pulling my arms and bones out further than they should have been able.

It was what I wanted, all along.