Welcome to the thirteenth issue of Sketchy Scoops! Your number one source for the most spurious content on the internet.
Scoop Reports: The Leftovers
Shelly is fuming with anger. I have never seen her—or anyone else—so angry before. She stares down at her phone and the longer she watches the more her face twists into a rictus of rage. This is my third day of working ‘with her’. This is the true version of who and what she really is. I still call her Shelly, but Clisandra is her real name. She is very different from the woman I’ve known for several years. Terrifyingly so.
My relationship with this version of Shelly is based off of fear. I try to hide that emotion by wrapping my actions in a veneer of respect and submission, but self-preservation is my motivating factor. Much of my fear is because I’m not entirely certain what the full extent of her abilities as a changeling are. Is she limited to only humanoid forms? What about size? Could she grow as large as a house? Or small as a microbe? I’m not even really sure that the woman I recognize as Shelly represents her true form. I don’t think it does. The greatest source for my concern, though, is the Council. It hasn’t been stated explicitly, but I have the strong suspicion that it’s in my best interests to keep Shelly happy.
“How can anyone be so stupid?” Shelly mutters to herself. Then, she looks at me. Her eyes are full of anger. “Things like this are why we shut you down. The slightest tolerance encourages theses morons to behave in incredibly stupid ways. Now, we’ll have to go deal with him.” Then, she gives me an evil look and says, “And, you will have a topic for your revised newsletter.”
Without explanation, she hands me her phone. I notice that it’s a TikTok video and for a moment, I am taken aback as I’m forced to face the incongruities that this seemingly immortal being has a TikTok account.
“Watch it,” she says flatly and then she reaches over and presses the Play icon. The video begins.
It shows a young man standing in his bathroom. At first, the camera is aimed at the mirror recording his reflection. He’s a typical 19- or 20-year-old kid. He’s trim and mildly athletic. He has some muscle definition, but there’s nothing about him that screams Jock. Just a normal looking young adult trying to score some social media validation points. He begins to speak.
“Hey ya’ll! It’s me Jake Chapman. I want to give a shout out to my boys for encouraging me to post this and to finally show the world the real me. It’s so important that each of us accept ourselves for who we really are and that we become comfortable in our own skin.”
The video goes silent for a moment as he looks away from the camera and off to the side. “Speaking about being comfortable in our own skin… you can’t see it, but the moon has just started to rise.”
At this point in the video, he turns the phone away from the mirror and there’s a moment of discomfort as the camera pans wildly across his bathroom. When it finally steadies once more, the video is focused on him. He’s still standing in the same spot, but now, the camera angle allows the viewer to see the open window and the yellow light of the rising moon.
Jake’s entire body spasms in a visibly painful convulsion. He jerks forward and grabs both sides of the porcelain sink. Something is happening to his face. His nose is becoming more pointed, and his ears have begun to grow. He screams in agony and reaches up to catch one of his incisors as it falls out of his mouth. It’s replaced by a longer, more vicious looking canine that looks as if it could rend any piece of meat to pieces. Long, tendrils of hair push through his skin. At first, they almost look like quills because they are raised to sharp points, but as soon as they stop growing, the hair relaxes and looks to be fur.
Another tremendous spasm of pain and Jake collapses to the ground. Fortunately, for the viewer, he does so at just enough distance from the sink to maintain a decent shot from where the phone has been positioned.
Claws exploded from you curling fingers. It turned his clenched hands into rudimentary paws. As his nose stretched further, it began to resemble a muzzle. His legs contorted painfully, bending twice until they resembled a dog’s hind legs. Once the transformation was complete, he stood, shot a brief glance at the phone, and jumped out of the window.
The video looped back to the beginning and started to play again, but she snatched it out of my hand. “What kind of moron would film themselves transforming into a werewolf?” Shelly asked. “This is why the council had to act against you, Scoop!” She waved the phone at me. “This right here is exactly why you had to be stopped. Even though your reports only ever hinted at the truth, they did spark the imagination of the mortals who read your posts. And now, we have members of our community who want to do the same by revealing so much more. They imagine a world of vampire influencers, of chupacabra YouTube stars, and of The Wailing Banshees’ latest single ranking on Spotify. That world will never happen.”
“I still think you’re underestimating humanity. We’ve changed over the millennia. Maybe society is ready to accept the existence of the preternatural realm. Can’t you imagine a world where we all live side by side next to one another?”
She looked at me with deep disdain. It was the type of expression reserved for when someone you’ve known forever reveals they believe in some outlandish conspiracy. Real whackjob stuff. It was an expression that screamed, you should know better. “I can’t believe you’re that naïve. Look at your track record on race relations. You think people who can’t live next to someone whose melanin content is different than their own will be able to accept the Slithering Yip-yip? You imagine a world of minotaurs walking down fifth avenue and I’m telling you that it would be open season on them. People would have their heads mounted above the fireplace. Children who were formerly content capturing fireflies would now insist on catching fairies in their little death jars. You are wrong and you vastly overestimate humanity, but you know what? None of it matters because you no longer have a say in issues like these. The council is handling things now. The only thing you must do is document our actions. Now, let’s get going. It’s a long drive to Mississippi.”
We pulled up in front of a run-down trailer on the outskirts of Tupelo, Mississippi the next day. Shelly refused to drive and after seven hours I was far too tired. So, we pulled into a rest area so I could sleep for a few hours before finishing the ten-hour trip. Shelly was furious. She had no patience for my ‘human frailty’, but after veering into oncoming traffic the third time, she finally conceded that I needed to sleep.
The yard was mostly dirt and mud with a few outcroppings of weeds. A trash barrel sat at one end of the property next to a broken-down Studebaker that was up on blocks. Parts of the trailer had rusted through entirely and the siding that remained had faded so much that the yellow was almost completely white.
I didn’t know the kid, but I felt bad for him. There were years from my own childhood when we’d lived in similar conditions. I don’t know what his motivations for uploading videos of himself as a werewolf might have been, but I’d bet some serious money that a great deal of it simply had to do with the desire to leave this place.
Shelly was all business. I’d barely put the van in park before she’d opened the door, ran across the yard, and up the broken wooden stairs. The screen door sagged to one side. She threw it open and began banging on the interior wooden door.
There was a muffled voice from somewhere inside the house. I couldn’t make out the words, but I’m certain it was some variant of ‘I’m coming.’ I joined Shelly on the steps right as the door opened and there stood Jake Chapman. He was rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His hair was mussed, and he smelled like a wet dog. I wasn’t sure if that was a werewolf thing or poor hygiene. He gave the two of us a confused look and began, “Wh…” He didn’t have a chance to finish speaking, though, because Shelly had a hand wrapped around his throat. She lifted him into the air and stepped deeper into the trailer. After three steps she released him, and he fell to the floor.
“Who are you? You can’t just…”
“You will be silent!” Shelly commanded. Her demeanor had changed. She still looked like Shelly, but there was a fierce determination about her presence that could not be questioned or denied. “I am Clisandra; woven of the Maquari, thread for the Tapestry, and today I am your judge. I come to you on behalf of the Council of Elders.”
She snapped the fingers of her left hand and two shadows appeared. They were roiling clouds of darkness. They flanked the boy on each side. I couldn’t tell if they were sentient or just some terrible force of nature.
“You will have but one opportunity to explain why you chose to reveal your supernatural nature to the mortals. If you have justification, speak it now.”
The boy—and that’s all he was—looked at me. His eyes pleaded with me to intervene. Finally, he said, “Are you just going to stand there and let her do…”
Shelly cut him off. “This man is here to bear witness to the judgement of the Council. He has no other concern in this matter.”
I tried to speak but discovered that speech was no longer possible. I’m not sure what she did, but I couldn’t form words or make sound at all. So, I stood there mutely while she performed her role of office.
“You have no defense to offer?” Shelly asked.
He looked at me again. His unspoken petition tore at my heart. “My friends found out about me being a werewolf and they dared me to go public.”
“That is not a valid reason. You are judged and condemned to die for your crimes against our community. Your remains will be repurposed so as to serve as a perpetual reminder that these actions will always be punished.”
With the slightest nod of her head, the two shadows descended on the boy. His screams will forever haunt me, but it was over quickly… or at least, the part of it that I witnessed was over quickly. I’m not sure if they teleported the boy to some other location or not, but when the shadows dissipated there were no remains. Not even a single drop of blood.
She allowed me to be more leisurely in my return to West Virginia. The trip took us a couple of days. We didn’t speak much. We didn’t speak at all. She spent the drive focused on her notebooks. Scribbling random thoughts and from time to time it looked like she was drawing. I tried not to look because I was just so disgusted with her actions. I didn’t want anything to do with the woman.
Finally, as I was pulling onto the dirt road that led to the home the Council had provided for me, she spoke up. “You’ll need to include this with your newsletter.”
I started to ask what it was, but then I saw it. It’s disgusting, but I have no choice. You can see it below.
A Note from the Editor
It’s a rather somber ending. I suppose that not much commentary is necessary for something as tragic as the wholesale execution of a living being for arbitrary reasons. Yet, having one’s existence reduced to a few chotchkies of dubious magical value is a horrible fate that no one deserves. And so, even though this commentary will not change the situation, I did feel that it was important to condemn the actions of the council and Clisandra specifically. Until next time!
All good fun!