The Damnation of Stanley

© 2003 Nicholas Huff
All rights reserved.

For a first date, it was going perfectly. They were at a romantic table for two in an elegant restaurant, there was a bottle of wine, and the girl with him was gorgeous, flirtatious and already a little drunk. Stanley knew providence was smiling on him.

Then something went terribly wrong. It happened during the few seconds Stanley looked down to stab his appetizer with a fork. When he looked up again, he discovered that his date had turned to bones. An instant before, the beautiful Kelli Courtland had been sitting across the table from him, chatting about her plans to go to law school after graduation. Then, in the blink of an eye, a skeleton had appeared, sitting exactly where Kelli had been, wearing the same red dress and with the same blonde hair. The thing was moving. It was talking.

"I was thinking of going to Harvard, but it's so, like, uptight. I really wanted to stay here in California, you know?"

Stanley gazed at the skeleton, uncertain what had happened, uncertain what to do next.

"The other cool thing about going to school in southern California is that I can keep my tan almost year round." The horrific thing held out a spindly ivory arm, "I mean, just look at my skin. Have you ever seen a tone this great before? Isn't it boss?"

Then the monster let out a girlish giggle that sent a chill through him.

Stanley feigned polite admiration of its radius and ulna bones. He even tried to follow up with a compliment, but he was so shaken that words escaped him.

The gangling abomination leaned forward an inch, "What's up Stan? All of a sudden you look like you've seen a ghost."

Again he struggled to reply, but stopped cold when the creature took a forkful of salad from the plate in front of it. It put the bit of food between its teeth and began to chew.

"Oh, no," he croaked at last.

While Stan looked on, the skeleton masticated the salad into a gob of dark greenish gunk, then swallowed. The mutilated blob of food slid down the spine where the neck should have been, then continued down through the ribcage and disappeared.

It set down the fork and the jawbones clacked, "I know, I hate salads too. Sometimes I just want to go into a fast-food joint and order a big cheeseburger, then gobble it down. But a girl has to watch her weight with summer coming. I have this fab new bikini I want to squeeze into. It's to die for."

Stanley could stomach no more. "Excuse me," he stammered, "I need to use the bathroom."

The skeleton waved nonchalantly, "Knock yourself out, dude. I'll be here when you get back."

He stood and turned away from his date, only to see that the rest of the people in the dining area had been similarly transformed. At another table a chattering skull balanced atop a suit made small talk with a female set of bones in a dress and black high heels. Farther away, a waiter skeleton poured water into glasses at a booth full of businessmen without skin. A fleshless hostess led a pair of walking skeletons to a window table.

It was impossible. It couldn't be real.

Stanley stumbled and caught himself. It proved difficult to weave through the hideous scene of the dining area and into the men's bathroom. Once inside, he dashed to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face.

He fumbled for an explanation of what he had just seen. Maybe he'd had too much to drink? No, there had just been one glass of wine—hardly enough to merit such fantastic hallucinations. Could he be dreaming? Could this be a nightmare of astounding proportions? A vicious, self-inflicted pinch to his arm was enough to prove he was wide awake. Was this an acid flashback? Not likely; Stanley had never taken drugs.

Only one probability remained: Stanley had lost his marbles. Yes, that was it. He had gone off the deep end and now he was seeing things.

With his body still leaning over the sink, he wiped water from his eyes and looked at his hands. There appeared to be skin on both. Turning them over, he saw that his palms still had the lines and wrinkles that had always been there, and there was the little scar on his knuckle he had accidentally made with a jackknife when he was eight years old.

Next he touched his face and was relieved to feel warm flesh. Further tactile examination proved that he had lips, a chin, a nose and all the other normal parts and pieces.

Whatever had befallen those people in the restaurant had apparently not affected him. With this epiphany he breathed easier for a moment.

Then he raised his body up and looked in the mirror.

When he waved his hand in front of his eyes, he could see his skin was still present. But the image reflected in the mirror exhibited only the delicate framework of phalanges and metacarpals. Stanley flexed his hand—in the reflection the precarious white segments responded in what seemed a hypnotizing ballet.

Behind the hand, a skull regarded him with curious patience. Leaning closer, he gazed into the vacant ocular cavities. The same black strands of hair hung down over the brow in exact reiteration. Where he had muscle and skin, the reflection was without. Where he had lips, the image possessed only bared teeth glistening with saliva.

Stanley screamed. The skull opened its mouth and shuddered in mocking parody.

In a panic, Stanley bolted out of the bathroom. Covering his eyes, he sprinted through the macabre scene of the restaurant. He rushed past the gruesome hostess, rocketed out the front entrance, and leapt to the sidewalk below in one mighty hurtle.

Once out on the street, Stanley ran like hell, moving as fast as his body would carry him. With his legs pounding, he ran for home without slowing down once, without even pausing to gape at the skeletal woman walking her poodle's bones on a dainty pink leash.

Rebecca knocked politely, without any response.

"Come on, Stan, I know you're in there." She knocked a second time.

A shuffling was heard from inside, then a weak voice called out, "Please go away."

"It's Rebecca. Open the door. I need to talk to you."

"Can you come back another time? I'm not feeling well."

She beat on the door, "No, I won't. I need to speak to you now, Stanley."

The door swung open, but he wasn't there to meet her. Stanley had scurried inside and cowered on the sofa in the living room, his head beneath a blanket.

Rebecca walked into a strange scene. Every light was off and the shades were drawn, yet in the dim light she noticed Stanley's house was in a peculiar state of disarray. She stepped through each room to assess the situation. First she saw the television had been unplugged and turned around so the screen faced the wall. Every picture had been taken down from the walls. In the bathroom the mirror was covered with newspaper and masking tape. In the bedroom, Stanley had been destroying all of his magazines in a paper shredder.

Back in the living room she found him in a fetal position on the sofa with the blanket covering his head.

"What's going on, Stan? Nobody has seen you in class for a week. I was beginning to worry."

The head beneath the fabric spoke. "I haven't been going."

"Obviously, but why?"

"Because I'm sick. I might have even gone crazy."

She took a seat beside him. "Yeah? There's a rumor going around campus that you went on a date with Kelli Courtland. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Word has it that you ditched her in a swank restaurant."

"I guess so." His voice grew heavier with melancholy.

Rebecca giggled. "We're talking about Kelli Courtland? The prettiest woman on campus? She works as a model doing underwear ads in the summer."

"Don't remind me."

"Kelli's skinny, blonde, and as cute as a bug's ear. Any guy would date her if he had a chance. What's amazing is that you weaseled your way into a night out with Miss Aphrodite, and what do you do?"

Stanley moaned softly in agony.

"That's right," Rebecca chided, "you ditched her and stuck her with the check. That does sound crazy to me."

"I know. I screwed up the entire evening. But right now I've got bigger problems than my dream-date gone awry."

Rebecca allowed a threatening tone to enter her voice. "Mister, you're going to have a problem with me if you don't take off that blanket and show me your handsome face."

Stanley sat upright but kept his head covered, "I can't. I'm having hallucinations. If I look at you, it'll probably start all over again."

"You're seeing things? You mean, like pink elephants?" she teased.

"Worse than that. This is going to sound nuts, but every time I look at somebody, I can see their bones. It's like I've developed some kind of spontaneous X-ray vision."

"No kidding?"

"It even happens with television and magazine pictures. I can see through skin."

She rose up and stepped in front of him. "Then take off the blanket and look at me. Tell me what my bones look like."

"No ... I can't."

"Why not? Are you afraid?"

"I just can't. Would you want to look at your best friend's skeleton? It's creepy."

"Stan, quit being a baby." Rebecca reached out and quickly pulled the blanket off him. "Now look at me."

She was about to fire off another sarcastic remark, but what she saw ended all that.

Stanley had lost weight. In the handful of days since Rebecca had last seen him, he had dropped ten pounds. His hair was a mess, and he hadn't shaved. The scraggly whiskers looked strange on his boyish face. But what concerned her most were his eyes—they were ravaged with fear.

The effect was the opposite when Stanley saw her—at that moment, Rebecca looked more wonderful than any woman he had ever seen. Despite the fact that they were best friends, Stanley had never before thought of Rebecca as attractive. In fact, most people considered her to be unfortunately ugly.

And here she was in front of him, looking like a spinster librarian from the 1950s. Her hair was the same dull color and she still wore it in her retro-geek style. Balanced perilously on her nose was the same inch-thick, tortoise-shell glasses—the ones that always made her eyes so far away.

But what Stanley loved at that instant was Rebecca's face, which was covered with skin. Her flesh looked like half-dried paste, her cheeks were still as pudgy as a gopher's, and the same slight hint of a double chin still bobbled below her real chin. But everything about her was present and accounted for. Relatively speaking, she looked absolutely normal, without a single bone exposed anywhere.

Stanley smiled and tenderly reached up to touch her cheek. "Becca, your skull's still inside your head. That's so excellent."

Perhaps for the first time in her life another person was happy to gaze upon her. It was a profound sensation. Then guilt overcame her.

"Oh Stan," she whispered. "I have a terrible confession to make."

"What's that?"

"You didn't go crazy. You aren't hallucinating, either."

"You mean people everywhere really have turned into skeletons?" An expression of bewildered concern played across his worn features. "How could that be?"

"It hasn't. You only think that because you're seeing things."

Stanley shook his head. "Wait a minute. You said I'm not hallucinating. I'm just seeing things? What's the difference?"

Rebecca wrung her hands. "You aren't seeing things. At least, not on purpose. It's magic."

"Magic?"

"Somebody cast a spell on you."

"Nonsense. I don't believe in spells."

She turned to look at him. "Come with me. I can prove it."

He stood up and followed her to the window.

She drew the closed curtains aside and bright afternoon sunlight dazzled them both.

Rebecca pointed out at the street. "See that mailman walking down the sidewalk? Take a good look at him and describe what you see."

Stanley shuddered. "I see a skeleton in a blue uniform, and he's delivering letters to Mrs. Watson's house."

"What about that guy over there?" she indicated another passerby.

"He's jogging. It's a set of bones in sneakers and tights."

"Now look at me. How do I look?"

"You look great. But why are you the only person I've seen in a week who has skin?"

"Because the magic won't affect the person who conjured it."

He put his hands to his temples as if his head ached.

"This doesn't make sense."

"Stan, think back. Remember when we first met during our freshman year? Remember how we became such good friends right away? Almost as if we had known each other all our lives?"

"Sure, I remember."

"Well, ever since then we've been just about as close as friends can get. I like you and you like me. Except there's one problem: one of us has been concealing stronger feelings."

"What do you mean?"

Rebecca delivered a firm dope slap to his forehead.

"Stanley, you big idiot. I'm in love with you."

He reeled back. "No way. That can't be true."

"It is true. I love you, you jackass."

"But I haven't fallen in love with you!"

"That's the point!" She stamped her foot in frustration. "I fell for you the first time I saw you. I couldn't help it. You're a big dumb jerk, Stan, but you're a really sweet guy. How could I help but go head-over-heels? The problem is that you were too thick-headed to notice, and I was too shy and scared to tell you." Rebecca turned away in embarrassment.

Stanley couldn't say a word. He just stood there, dumbfounded.

Then Rebecca spun around in a rush of sudden anger and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Besides, you never cared about me anyway. You always went for the skinny, vacuous little bimbos—the kind who come complete with fake blonde hair and fake pretty smiles. You go for women you can never have, like Kelli Courtland."

"Becca, I had no idea." The apology sounded weak.

"Of course you had no idea. How could you? I never had enough guts to tell you the truth. So I held my tongue. Then we went from freshmen to sophomores, then from juniors to seniors, and I still hadn't said a word. Now senior year is almost over and graduation is just a few weeks away. After that, you'll go your way and I'll go mine. Maybe our friendship will fade. I might not even see you again."

He looked straight into her eyes.

"I would never let that happen."

"Even so, I couldn't tell you how much you meant to me. It was like I had lost the battle, and all the gorgeous, skinny, stupid blondes had won. They would have another good man to wrap around their fingers whenever they felt like it. The ugly, four-eyed, shy girl loses again, right?"

Rebecca paused and her lips slowly curved into a mischievous smirk.

"So, one day I was surfing around the internet and I stumbled onto this website. It was all about witchcraft, voodoo, and magic."

"A website? About magic?" His eyes darkened.

"Yeah. That's where I learned the spell."

"Wait a minute. You're saying you found a site online where you learned some kind of hocus-pocus that you used on me?"

She tilted her head in a curious manner.

"I had a crush on you, so I put a curse on you. And it worked. Isn't that neat?"

"No, it isn't neat." His voice shook with frustration, "This is a nightmare! How could you do this to me?"

"Oh Stan, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to turn out this way."

His voice rose with anger.

"How did you think it would turn out, Becca? I look at people and I see their bones. That would freak anybody out."

"I know that now. What I did was wrong, and I am so sorry."

Stanley had grown tired of seeing his neighbor's skeleton mowing the lawn across the street, so he pulled the drapes shut with an acrimonious flourish. "How long is this magic supposed to last? When do I go back to normal?"

She edged away before answering, "Well, that's the thing. It lasts for a while."

"How long? Another week?"

"Ummm, a little longer."

He took a step toward her. "You mean I'm going to see skeletons for another month?"

"More like a year."

"A year? Dammit!"

"Actually, a year to three years. There are some outside factors that come into play—diet, age, weight, distance from the equator. You know, technical stuff like that."

"Three years?" Stanley reeled backward and fell onto the sofa in shock. "That's forever."

She sat down beside him and patted his arm.

"Buck up, Stan. The time will breeze by before you know it. Besides, you can always call me when you want to spend an afternoon with somebody who is all in one piece."

Although the first few weeks were a difficult adjustment, Stanley eventually adapted to the new lifestyle Rebecca's curse forced upon him. He managed to attend just enough of his courses to finish out his final semester and graduate from college. Understandably, he did not attend commencement ceremonies.

A few days after school ended, Stanley took a job at a corporation. It wasn't a position that he found particularly interesting, but it did offer the advantage of a small office of his own. He would arrive at work early in the morning and lock himself away in the cramped, windowless space where he conducted all of his business over the phone and email. Throughout the day nobody disturbed him. Many nights he stayed late, only choosing to leave after the other employees went home. Then he would slip on his coat and make his way out of the deserted building alone through darkened corridors.

Stanley also gave up the evenings he used to spend out on the town. He never went to restaurants or movie theaters, and even stopped shopping at supermarkets. He had his groceries delivered. Clothing and other items he obtained via catalogs and online distributors. It was an extra expense, but he found it preferable to wandering store aisles populated by leering bare-boned cadavers.

His life had changed dramatically. Stanley never forgot that Rebecca was to blame, but it was difficult to stay angry with her for long. Time after time, he promised himself he would never speak to her again. Then he would get lonely and end up calling her the next day. Rebecca was the only person he could see in the flesh, and he soon discovered it was difficult to go too long without seeing a whole human being. So the curse more or less forced Stanley into calling on Rebecca. Perhaps that was what she'd had in mind when she cast the spell on him.

Whatever the case, Stan felt desolate without her. When it finally got the better of him, he decided to turn it around and spend as much time with her as possible. Of course, Rebecca was receptive to the idea and tried to make him feel welcome in every way. When they eventually began spending the night together, it seemed like just another step in the natural progression of things.

Fourteen months went by before the effects of the curse began to wane. One cool October morning, Stanley noticed two kids riding by on skateboards. They still looked like a set of prancing bones in t-shirts and skater shorts. But there was something different this time—Stanley saw tissue on their rattling knee and elbow joints that looked remarkably similar to cartilage.

A few days later Stanley saw a skeletal woman with dark veins sticking out here and there, pumping blood with a constant pulsing shimmer. By the second week, he passed people on the street with visible muscle tissue and eyes swimming back and forth in their sockets.

At last Stanley saw a whole person, complete with skin everywhere. The curse had ended. Later that afternoon, he and Rebecca went out to an expensive restaurant to celebrate.

"Stan, long time no see, dude."

He looked up from the newspaper he was reading while waiting for the bus and searched for the source of the familiar voice, "Kelli ... Kelli Courtland?"

"In the flesh." She touched him gently on the shoulder, "Where have you been? I haven't seen you, like, since the Ice Age. What has it been? Three years?"

Her words stopped him cold. Three years had passed since the nightmare began. Three years since he had run from this beautiful woman in terror. It was amazing how time had slipped by.

Stanley smiled and caught himself gazing a split-second too long into her perfect blue eyes. "Oh, I've been tied up in work. You know how it is."

"Sure I do. But what happened to you? The last time I saw you, we were out on a date. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," he fought to look away at anything else. After a few awkward moments, he ended up focusing shyly on his own feet.

"So, you just disappeared? You went to the men's room for a minute, and then I saw you take off out of that restaurant like your butt was on fire."

"Kelli, I should apologize. That was a mistake."

A vexed look crossed her face. "Stan, I spent months wondering what happened with you that night. Did I say something wrong? Did I have dog breath, or what?"

"No, it wasn't anything you did. It wasn't that way at all."

"Then what was it? I've been out on lots of dates, but there hasn't been one guy yet who ever ditched me before. I have to admit it had me worried."

Stanley finally mustered the courage to look at her, "I didn't leave because of you. It was an emergency of sorts. I got kind of ... sick."

"Sick? In what way?"

"Ummm, food poisoning."

"Oh. Dude, that's so lame. I'm so sorry." She screwed her gorgeous red lipstick mouth into a tilted frown on his behalf.

He nodded.

"Yeah, it was the worst."

"I had some bad shrimp during spring break one year. I bet I tossed up for a week. But Stan, why didn't you ever call me and let me know what happened?"

"To tell you the truth, Kelli, I don't remember. Although I know it was a mistake. It was so inconsiderate of me, and I'm sorry." It was his best effort at sounding penitent.

"Well, okay. Apology accepted. But you should have called me." Then she brushed a soft blonde hair away that had drifted impeccably across her forehead, "So what happened with you, Stan? What have you been doing with your life?"

He grimaced slightly.

"I got married."

"Yeah? Who's the lucky girl?"

"It was a woman we went to college with. Do you remember Rebecca Martin?"

"You mean the girl with the weird glasses? The one who hung out in the computer lab with the other geeks?"

"Yes, that's her." Stanley felt a dry lump form in his throat at the backhanded comment. "So, Kelli, what are you doing these days? Going to law school? Seeing anybody?"

She smiled exquisitely. "Yeah, law school and modeling. Still doing some gigs for magazines now and again. Never got hitched. I've been single for a while now. I'm not even dating."

"Shucks, sorry to hear that," he mumbled. "Some nice guy will probably come along soon."

Now Kelli gazed timidly at her own shoes, "You know Stan, I have a confession to make. I always had a little thing for you."

"You had a ... thing? What do you mean?"

"I had this thing for you in college. There were a lot of guys asking me out back in those days. They were all nice, but they all wanted the same thing. You know what I mean?" She smiled knowingly. "Then you came along. You were goofy and shy and smart and kind of, like, sexy in an odd way. You were so genuine. It swept me off my feet a little bit each time I saw you. That's why it was a big deal for me when we went out on that date."

"I didn't know that," he murmured. "I never realized it mattered to you."

Kelli continued.

"Yeah, it bugged me so much when you ditched me in the restaurant that night. Then you never called, and that made it worse. It was such a bummer. I finally get to hook up with this great guy and he actually runs screaming from our first date. How is that supposed to make a girl feel?"

Stanley felt his heart spinning. It seemed the city had ground to a halt and became silent all around him. Nothing moved. He could only see and hear the beautiful Kelli Courtland standing before him, giving voice to an impossible confession.

"I spent the last three years wondering what happened to you, Stan. Really, I still think about you all the time." Her voice sounded despondent, "Then I run into you and find out that you're married. Too bad, huh?"

"No kidding."

She tilted her head and smiled. "Well, I had better get going. It was great seeing you."

Kelli Courtland waved and walked away. He felt helpless as her heavenly form disappeared in the crowd on the street.

Gradually, the noise and bustle of the city traffic resumed, but it hardly registered in Stanley's mind. The bus he was waiting for came and went, although he never realized it. His arms hung limply at his sides and the newspaper he held slipped from his fingers and floated softly down to the sidewalk.

Stanley could still smell her perfume over the exhaust fumes and sharp odors of the downtown street. He stood motionless, glassy-eyed and alone, as passing strangers flowed around him like water. It was a moment he knew would haunt him forever.

Only then did he realize the true depth of the deception. His thoughts shifted from Kelli to Rebecca and his jaw clenched. After three years, the truth finally hit him like a freight train. Rebecca had manipulated him. She had used the spell to sway him into thinking she was the only woman in the world. There had been no choice for him but to fall in love with her. What was worse, he had taken the bait. After the magic had worn off, he had been fool enough to marry her.

Everything in his field of vision went red. Stanley raised his trembling hands up to his chest and formed his fingers into claws, grasping at an imaginary object. In his mind he pictured himself throttling Rebecca, envisioned her homely face turning crimson as he slowly and meticulously squeezed her breath out.

The nightmare of wandering as a lost phantom in an unforgiving world of living bones revisited him all at once. In an avalanche of unwelcome recollections, each fleshless skull he had ever seen came back one by one.

Each night he had spent alone, locked away in his house, afraid to go out or even turn on his television. Each day he had sequestered himself to slave away at a worthless job in that drab, windowless office. Every moment came back, driving him further into his rage.

But the final blow was losing Kelli. Kelli Courtland had cared for him. She had said so. It wasn't a joke. He had a chance to have a woman like that—a blonde, graceful siren. That one date could have led to another, and another. Except he had botched it.

And it was all Rebecca's fault.

Suddenly he knew what had to happen next. Stanley reached into the pocket of his raincoat for his cell phone. After punching in his home number, he held the phone to his ear.

"Hello." Rebecca's voice sounded cheery over the connection.

"Hi, Becca." He was surprised it was so easy to sound nonchalant, despite his lethal mood, "I was just calling to let you know I'm going to be coming home early tonight."

"That's great, Stan. I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yeah, sweety, in just a little while. Oh, and one more thing...."

"What is it?"

He smiled darkly, "I have a surprise for you."

He put away the phone and stepped up to the curb to wait for the next bus that would take him home. The moments passed quickly as Stanley planned out his evening.

Rebecca kept sharp knives in the kitchen that would surely slice through human skin. In the garage were gardening clippers and a few saws that could strip away muscle from what was disguised beneath.

Stanley laughed out loud.

He didn't give a damn if the curse had ended or not. Before the night was over, he would look upon one last set of bones.

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