Thursday, January 12, 2006


The Neckrofyle: a cautionary tale (I)

Oliver turned his head away and squeezed his mouth and eyes tight shut. Mummy sighed and put down the fork.
“Darling, you have to try a little.”
“Don’t like greens,” Oliver said crossly. He hated them, actually.
Mummy moved her chair closer and put her hand against his cheek. “Darling, do you know what happens to little boys and girls who don’t eat their greens?”
“No, darling. Not nothing. Something bad.”
Oliver smiled at Mummy suddenly. “Nothing bad can happen to me, Mummy. I’m going to heaven.”
“But how do you know you’re going to heaven, love?”
“Because I’m not going to hell, because I’m not a homosexualist.”
When he had stopped crying and had washed the taste of soap away with some orange squash, Mummy said, “There’s something worse than going to hell, dear. Much worse.”
Oliver couldn’t believe his ears. “Even worse than hell?”
Mummy smiled gently. “Yes, love. The Neckrofyle will get you.”
“The Neckferyle? What’s that?”
“He’s a nasty man who finds little boys and girls and also grownups who haven’t eaten their greens, after they die but before they go to heaven, and he does horrid things to them.”
Oliver frowned. “What does he look like?”
“He’s tall and thin, with long thin fingers and a long tongue -”
“As long as Mummy’s Secret Friend’s tongue?” chuckled Oliver. Mummy blushed prettily. Her Secret Friend was so secret that Oliver wasn’t allowed to tell even Daddy about him.
“Longer, darling. And no eyes, either. He sees you by feeling you.”
Oliver was bored with the rubbish Mummy was saying and began to throw his peas at the cat. He forgot all about the silly Neckrofyle.

Oliver didn’t eat any fresh fruit either and six months later, as a result of his severe vitamin C deficiency, he developed scurvy. In the hospital the nurses tried to push forkfuls of creamed spinach past his bleeding gums but he spat it out. As he felt himself slipping away, he smiled weakly, happy that he was going to be in heaven soon where you ate and drank frankincense and myrrh and nobody tried to make you eat nasty greens.


He lay in a room that was like his bedroom but with no light, and the walls were a funny light blue and there was no mattress. It felt like he should be cold but he wasn’t. He was wearing a queer plastic coat wrapped like a blanket around him. His eyes were open and he couldn’t close them, which felt funny and he laughed, except he couldn’t laugh because he couldn’t even breathe and he didn’t mind. The nice lady and the ugly man had done strange things earlier, putting big needles (which didn’t hurt!) in his neck and arms and tickly powder on his face, and he’d tried to talk to them but they hadn’t heard him. Now he was resting, thinking happily about the funeral tomorrow which was going to be like a big party, before he went to heaven.

Then there was a squeak, and at first he thought it was a mouse but it went on too long and he realised it was a door opening. A bit of light came in the room and he tried to turn his head to look at it but couldn’t. Someone was coming in! He was suddenly scared. A man leaned over him and he tried to scream but his mouth wouldn’t work. The man was tall, the tallest man he had ever seen, and he had a white face and a huge mouth with no teeth, and no eyes, just empty holes. The man’s tongue came out and was so long that it flicked up against his cheeks. The man lifted a long skinny finger over Oliver’s face and wagged it, and made a sad clicking noise like Mummy used to when he had been naughty.

The Neckrofyle!

Will Oliver escape the clutches of the evil Neckrofyle and find peace in the afterlife? Find out in part two!

Oooooh, a story, a story!

I, for one, cannot wait till part two!

Nice work, FE!
This I feel, would be so much better for kids than that Harry Potter drivel.
It's got everything. More power to your elbow I say.

Em, let me know if FMC asks anymore "questions", there's such a thing as accessory before the fact you know. Just saying.
That's what comes of spitting out good food. I bet the little tyke will regret all the hamburgers when old lizard-tongue starts having his way with him. Nothing like a story with a strong moral message.
Nicely done, Footsie... I, too, am anxiously awaiting part 2. Your Neckrofyle sounds suspiciously like Michael Jackson... iiiinteresting...
Good story, I like that tall chap, reminds me of Mr Barlow from 'Salem's Lot', looking forward to part 2.
Terrific story, roll on part 2.

FMC - you writing a thriller, girl? We gonna see you in the bestseller lists soon?
No Sexy Beauty, I'm plotting the downfall of that old harpy that lives below me...
FMC, just thought I'd let you know that I have forwarded your recent comments on to the police.
My lord, can't a gal be interested in disposing a body without everybody getting all nervous and shit. Fine, I was going to ask about the length of time needed to scupper a tox screen and what to do about the worrisome evidence of suffucation if there is no water found in the lungs, but now I won't bloody bother!
Tox screen: depends very much on the substance.

The suffocation problem's tricky. You might be better off drowning the person in the first place.
Right but there in lies the rub,hypothetically speaking, if the person is larger than the killer, they would need to be A-very very drunk, or B- under the influence of some sort of some sort of narcotic, to be drowned, and even at that, a person, hitting freezing water, might just sober up quickly enough to splutter and fight their way-still hypothetically- out of the water. Of course smothering a person requires strength/luck too, but you could do it if the person was passed out-say drugged- and they never woke up. But that buggers up the water in the lungs and smothering also affects the liining of the lung walls doesn't it? Do you see the conundrum?
I once read a crime story where the killer whizzed up four foxglobe leaves in a bowl of soup. Don't know if that would work, though!.
Foxglove, even
FMC - you realise you're scaring the shit out of all these guys who have been longing to shag you? Instead of seeing you as a hot chick, they'll think fatal attraction! G'wan, you're writing a book, admit it!
Nonsense Sexy, it just keeps them on their toes.
Foxglove you say crippen? I know it is toxic for horses, but I can't imagine it would be an easy one to use. It causes cardiac faliure in cattle too, but I'd imagine you need a whack load of it and then a soup you say... Hummmm, I'll look into it, ta very much. Much appreciated.
Right, so you're not talking about an old harpy as a victim, then, FMC. I see your point: you want an undetectable toxin that will render them unconscious but still able to inhale water.

My avice would be to get them drunk, if possible, and dump them where it's unlikely they'd be found for over a week or so (to allow for decomposition). You could smother them with a pillow while they're under the influence, though you'd have to make sure they were so plastered that they wouldn't struggle, otherwise they might end up with your DNA under their nails.

Not sure about foxglove, I'll have to look it up.
This is very interesting site... » »
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Site Meter
Hit me