Flesh Failure by Sèphera Girón

my face resting against soft, cushioned pillows, the windows of the carriage adorned with sheer white fabric and lace. The blanket over me was cozy and it was easy to be lulled into a sense of security.
    The horse pulled into a village where we were to give the first lecture.
    It was odd work, standing in the street while Dr. Rueben called out to passing people, handing out leaflets and keeping his humour despite the scornful looks cast at us. I sat in a chair wearing a white netted hat and a long white surgical gown covering me.
    â€œStep right up, folks, and see the first manmade freak. Yes, that’s right. See a despicable creature sewn together from various body parts.”
    â€œYou’re a fraud, it can’t be done,” a man said as he walked past.
    â€œExcuse me, sir. Do you really believe it can’t be done? Would you like to take a peek at the monster for yourself?”
    â€œIt’s just makeup, I know, theatre.” The man scoffed. “What is that stench?” He drew out a handkerchief and held it up to his nose.
    â€œWhat do you think a corpse smells like, sir?”
    â€œI don’t know but this smell is vile.”
    Dr. Rueben kept a big smile on his face as he engaged the forming crowd.
    â€œTell me, sir, does this look like makeup to you?”
    Several more people joined the crowd. Dr. Rueben walked over to me. He waved for the man to come closer and then lifted the netting on my hat slightly so that the man could have a glimpse of my face.
    The man cried out, jerked back and then walked quickly away.
    â€œAn abomination. Something like that shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
    â€œNonsense. This is a miracle. A modern miracle of modern day science. Reanimation is important for research so we can learn more about how to cure dread diseases. Your donations are most appreciated.”
    Dr. Rueben lifted a bucket and waved it, the sound of a few coins that he had previously planted rattling around inside.
    â€œDonate to the cause and you too shall see what your friend had only a glimpse of.”
    The sound of money being thrown into the pot clanked and clanged. People pushed closer, pressing to give money, jostling to get a good view once the monster was revealed.
    â€œDon’t be afraid to continue to donate. You can imagine the cost of caring for a monster of this size.”
    More money flew into the bucket.
    â€œThank you for your patience and kind donations, ladies and gentlemen. Now you can see the living dead girl.”
    He walked over to me and removed my gown. My arms and legs were exposed as I only wore a short and very scandalous dress. There was enough of me in view to reveal the snaking wounds of scars and skin grafts.
    The audience gasped and murmurs of awe spread through the crowd.
    â€œAre you ready to look upon the face of a monster?” he asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œShow us.”
    The audience cried with delighted fear for him to unmask the monster.
    He lifted the hat from my head and the crowd gazed upon my scarred face. He had darkened the scars with rouge to make them even more frightening.
    â€œOh…”
    A woman screamed.
    Some of the crowd dispersed in fear.
    Children cried.
    â€œThank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming to see us today. The living dead girl will be on display tomorrow at a special exhibit. Tell your friends,” he crowed as he distributed flyers that gave the address of the lecture hall the next night.
    When we arrived at our lodgings, we counted the money. It was more than we had ever imagined.
    It seemed like life might be turning around after all.
    My life as a freak lasted for two weeks. It was gruelling work and most people were unkind. As freak shows were falling out of favour, it wasn’t easy to do more than set up very temporary shop on a snowy street corner or give a lecture at a theatre as he had the first time I met him. The further from London we travelled, the more ignorant