It’s not my head.

A troubling tale inspired by a small statue and a jolly gathering of friends.

“What a great evening so far, don’t you think?” Erika glanced briefly at Marcel who was wiggling the cork out of a fresh bottle of California cab.

“Hooray … I got it.” He laughed. Erika smiled at him, and presented a stack of plastic cups. “I mean … I’m just so happy that everyone could make it since we had to cancel the last few months.” They headed towards the door of the small shared lounge as a team, successful in their mission.

In her apartment across the hall, Jen had her hand on Gina’s shoulder, a gesture of encouragement at the old shared story they had just finished recapping. “I can’t believe we even went in there. I was scared shitless.” Jen chuckled deeply and then recoiled a bit realizing the emphasis she had put on the word shitless.

“Hey Jen.” No response.

“Jen.” Still no response.

Jenny tried to get Jen and Gina’s attention but everyone’s hearing was fading and the music had slowly turned itself up over the evening. Jenny walked across the room and tried to interject, reaching towards the two girls, “where’d you get … “

She was interrupted. The door swung open and Marcel and Erika cruised in. “We’ve got fresh wine,” Marcel said with delight and jubilation. “And cups,” Erika followed.

Jenny withdrew the object she was holding and took a few steps backwards feeling a bit dejected and a bit confused. She looked up at her four friends to see them smiling and talking … but she couldn’t really make out what they were saying.

***

She’d been off all day. The strap on her purse had snagged on the way out of the house that morning and ripped her bag entirely down the middle, spilling it’s contents all over the cold concrete in front of her home. As she was cleaning up the mess, she noticed a small crack spreading through the brand new foundation. “Fuck this,” she thought to herself … pissed.

***

“What a weird …” she paused mid sentence and thought, “… weird head.” Staring at the strange face of the object made her laugh audibly, a slight chuckle followed by a bit of a grunt.

Wondering where she’d put her wine, she wandered back over to Jen’s bookshelf where she’d found the head earlier in the night. “I’ve gotta get home,” she thought as she struggled to find the spot from which she’d picked the head up. Still facing the bookshelf, she called out for Jen again.

“Hey Jen.” Again, no response.

“Jen!”

“JEN!!!”

Tired, frustrated, and ready to go home to bed, she put the head down on the coffee table, grabbed the Trader Joe’s bag containing the remains of her purse, and headed for the door.

“Jenny, you forgot your head.” Marcel laughed at the implication of his statement, and then handed her the small statue she’d been examining all night. She grabbed it almost instinctually and thanked Marcel. The metal object consumed the remaining warmth in her hands, and the weight made her feel ill and unbalanced.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” she said.

Jenny pushed the head violently into Marcel’s chest as she stumbled towards the kitchen, mumbling that it wasn’t hers … it wasn’t hers.

The statue slipped through Marcel’s hands, dropping to the floor like a bowling ball, cracking the stone tile beneath it.

Erika and Jen were shaken at the sound, and Gina screamed as Jenny hit the floor a few seconds later. The small object rolled awkwardly and haphazardly along the floor for a few feet coming to rest directly adjacent to Jenny’s face … purposefully engaging her.

Both heads were motionless.