's 2014 Horror Write-off:

" Your Body is Changing "

Submitted by Dandelion Steph

Morgan awoke with snot all over her face. Not just her nose, or mouth, but all over it: her eyelids, her cheeks, her forehead. She wiped the slime off her eyelids so she could see. While Morgan wiped her eyes with the sleeve of one arm, the hand of the other propped her up on the bed. The bed felt moist. Morgan recoiled, disgusted by the sensation. A great puddle of clear slime coated the pillow---too much slime to be produced by a human's runny nose.

Slime dripped into Morgan's eyes again.

But my nose isn't on my forehead...

Morgan cleared her eyes of slime and headed to the mirror. A clear sheet of slime clung to her forehead, with thinner films covering her cheeks and lips. Her nose was not running.

She ran to the bathroom and scrubbed her face with the toilet paper. She would not wait to find more appropriate tissue paper; she needed it off immediately. The thin films came off easily, making Morgan's skin feel oddly crusty. The thick sheet on her forehead required more effort. It peeled off only with vigorous scrubbing, saturating the toilet paper. Morgan tossed the two wads of toilet paper into the toilet and flushed. The slime just felt too unclean, too diseased to place in the trash can. Morgan's face felt sore and raw, and...wet. Morgan wiped her face again. The toilet paper came back soggy with slime. Already? But I...


Her mother did not respond. This is not a good time to be reading the newspaper, Morgan thought. “Mom!”

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” her mother called back. Morgan heard the creak of the stairs and then the stomp of feet outside the bathroom. “Mom, I think I'm sick. There's....snot....all over my face, not just my nose, and I'm not allergic or anything...” Morgan said from within the bathroom, still trying to clean her face.

“So it's time,” her mother said, oddly cheery considering the circumstances. “My child is becoming a woman.”

“What? No! Snot! It's icky!” Morgan sputtered out, her slimy face hot with embarrassment. “My nose isn't running, there's nothing wrong with it, and nobody with acne gets slime! Mom!”
“That's just a part of growing up, dear. It's puberty. I tried giving you the book, but you wouldn't read it.”

Slime dripped into Morgan's eyes. She clenched them shut and reached for another wad of toilet paper. “No. No no no.” she said. Morgan held her head in her hands, slime dripping down like viscous tears. “Make it stop. Fix it.” The tears fell into her mouth, and she spat them out into the toilet.
“It's just natural,” her mother said, still calm---too calm. “Finish up there and get ready for school.”

“No, not school, not like---” A drop of slime fell onto Morgan's lip, and she wiped it off. “this. I can't.”

Morgan's mother was already downstairs.


Morgan went through her classes armed with all the tissue boxes in the house. It didn't feel like enough. She felt uncomfortable, diseased, wrong. But no one at school noticed her discomfort, or the copious amount of tissues. At lunchtime she stopped by the nurse.

“I'm ill. I should go home.” Morgan told the nurse.

“What are your symptoms, exactly?” the nurse asked.

“Slime. Slime, everywhere, on my face.” Immediately after saying this, she wondered why the nurse couldn't see it herself. It was on her face, after all.

“You're becoming a woman,” the nurse said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“But I don't want to! Get rid of it! You're a nurse!”

The nurse frowned, sighed, and headed to a room in the back. She returned with only a box of tissues. “There. Now you can return to class.” she said, and went to her office. “I don't want tissues!” Morgan exclaimed. “What's with---why---”

The nurse closed the door to her office and ignored her.


“I have slime on my face, not my nose”

The results popped up instantly. None of them were any good. Despite specifying the slime wasn't coming from her nose, most of the results were about runny noses.

Morgan held her slimy face in her hands in frustration, only to have her hands come back sopping with slime. Letting out a small groan, Morgan left to wash her hands---again.

“Morgan, come down here! I want to talk to you!” her mother called from downstairs, again with that disturbing cheeriness. Morgan ignored her---it was just going to be another “you're becoming a woman” comment.

“Morgan!” her mother repeated, her voice louder.

“Coming!” Morgan shouted.

Her mother stood by the kitchen table with a look of concern. “It's okay, dear. Just becoming a---” Morgan turned away, preparing to head back upstairs. “Come back here! Just becoming a woman.” her mother finished. “Really, you should have read that book if you didn't want to be surprised, though I can't imagine....well, see for yourself. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Morgan's mother started to undress. Morgan stood, shocked, recovering her senses quickly enough to cover her eyes with her hands.

“It's just a body, Morgan. You will have one just like this soon enough.” Her mother's puzzled voice floated through the darkness. Slimy hands gripped her own, taking them away from her face. Slimy? What---

Morgan lost her focus and opened her eyes.

Beside her was a leathery-skinned, snake-shaped thing, seated in a red chamber of ribs, her mother's arms resting on the table like too-long opera gloves. The snake-shaped thing glistened, for it was coated in slime, and its lower end was immersed in a pond of snot in the the bowl of her mother's hips.

“See? Nothing to be afraid of.” Her mother's voice emanated from the dark orifice of the thing's head.

“You're just becoming a woman.”