The Black Gut Laugh
by Fendy S. Tulodo
Horrific Scribes Extremity Rating:
Elena Vargas drove the tattoo needle into the carcass on the slab. Her heavy belly knocked the table edge as the fetus kicked hard inside her. Raul Mendoza leaned against the slaughterhouse wall. His hands stayed red from cutting up carcasses earlier that day.
The town lay underwater from the overflow. The streets stood full of dark water that lapped at the building’s foundation. She pulled the needle out. A single black ink tear slipped down its shaft. She wiped it on her apron, quick. Then went back to sewing a plastic spoon into the carcass’s open side. She forced the handle deep into the meat so the bowl part stuck out like a strange growth.
“You see this one yet?” she said as she pushed the spoon harder into the flesh.
Raul crossed his arms. “Yeah the one with the weird growths. Looks like you turned it into a kitchen utensil exhibit.”
Mateo Ruiz sat on a stool in the corner. The ventriloquist dummy rested on his knee. The boy watched everything with wide eyes. His fingers moved in the dummy’s back to make it talk sometimes.
The dummy remained still for now.
Elena kept working. The fetus kicked in time with her needle. The slaughterhouse air sat thick with the smell of fresh meat. She didn’t need to notice the little dent in the slab from last week’s accident, but it pulled her gaze anyway.
Raul walked closer to the table. “The church bells started melting last night from the water.”
Elena kept her focus on the stitch. “The water does strange things here.”
Mateo watched the dummy. It jerked. Its wooden mouth opened. A childhood laugh came out high and innocent, but the voice belonged to the dummy.
The laugh filled the slaughterhouse and echoed off the walls.
The dummy spoke in a child’s voice. “Remember when we played by the river before the water came?” it said as the mouth moved without Mateo’s fingers.
Elena stopped the needle. The sentient tattoo needle wept more black ink tears that dripped onto the carcass. The black ink tears mixed with the meat and spread in dark lines.
Raul laughed in a raw way. “Looks like your boy’s toy has stories to tell. Maybe the fetus hears them, too.”
The dummy laughed again the childhood laugh. Memories poured out in the voice. “The slaughterhouse always smelled like this. The night watchman always carved the same way.”
Raul grabbed the dummy from Mateo’s lap. “Stop with the memories,” he said as he held the dummy up to his face.
The dummy’s mouth moved. “You carve the carcasses every night. You never stop.”
The laugh came again.
The fetus kicked harder. Her belly tightened around the movement. A strange pull started in their stomachs at the same moment. The black ink tears had touched the meat, and the connection spread through the needle’s work.
Raul set the dummy back on Mateo’s knee, not careful, just dropped it into place. He grabbed a knife from the side table and started on a fresh carcass, slicing fast, jagged. The blade split flesh open, showing what was underneath.
Elena watched the dummy. She stitched a small bell into the carcass next to the spoon. The bell sat half buried in the meat. The fetus kicked once more in exact time with the stitch.
Mateo reached out and touched the dummy’s arm. The boy smiled for the first time in hours. His usual quiet broke when he signed rapidly at the dummy. The dummy answered in the childhood voice. “The water took the old house but left the memories.”
The pull in their stomachs grew stronger. Elena pressed a hand to her belly, but the motion only made the fetus kick again. Raul stopped carving. He looked at his own stomach. “This pull feels like we share one gut now.”
The dummy laughed the childhood laugh once more. The sound vibrated through the slaughterhouse. The black ink tears kept flowing from the needle where it lay on the table.
Elena picked up the needle again. She stitched a fork into the carcass beside the bell. The tines poked out at odd angles. The pull in her stomach matched the dummy’s wooden frame as if the digestive tract now ran between her fetus and the toy.
Raul set the knife down and left it there. He moved to the door and looked out over the flooded street for a while. “We should check the church before those bells melt completely.”
They stepped into water up to their knees. It was cold enough to sink through their clothes fast, each step dragging more than the last. Mateo held the dummy high on his shoulder to keep it dry. Elena kept one hand on her belly, the other tight around the needle. Black ink tears fell from the living tattoo needle, sinking into the flood and trailing dark lines behind.
The church stood half submerged. The bells hung from the tower, but they melted slowly. The shape changed in the water and dripped in slow drops that hit the surface with soft plops.
Raul pointed at the tower. “See how they lose their form.”
Elena stopped in the water. The fetus kicked, and the pull in her stomach synced with the dummy on Mateo’s shoulder. The shared digestive tract made her feel the dummy’s hunger as her own. The sensation brought a wave of disgust that shifted into dark euphoria. Her body convulsed at the wrongness, yet her mind spiraled higher.
The dummy spoke again. “The memories say the fetus stitched us together.”
Mateo signed at the dummy. The boy ‘s hands moved fast. The dummy answered in the childhood voice. “The night watchman carved the way for the connection.”
Raul laughed with raw energy. “Great. Now I digest for a wooden toy and a baby that isn’t even born.”
The irony hung in the air. The pregnant taxidermist who stitched household objects into dead meat now shared her gut with a ventriloquist dummy that carried memories and laughed like a child. The night watchman who carved carcasses every night found himself connected to the same tract. The deaf boy watched it all and the dummy spoke for him.
They waded back toward the slaughterhouse. The water pulled at their legs and the black ink tears from the needle left more trails in the flood.
Inside the slaughterhouse the pull became physical. Elena set the needle on the table. The sentient tattoo needle wept steady black ink tears that pooled and ran toward the carcass. She stitched one more household object. A small mirror handle went into the meat beside the bell and the fork. The fetus kicked in perfect sync with each push.
Raul carved another carcass. His strokes matched the rhythm of the shared digestive tract. He felt the food Elena had eaten earlier move through the connection. The sensation brought disgust that flipped into dark euphoria for him, too. His body shook at the shared flow, yet his mind rode the spiral.
Mateo sat with the dummy on his knee. The boy touched the dummy’s face. The dummy laughed the childhood laugh, and the memories flowed again. “The flooded town feeds the gut now.”
The laugh echoed. The black ink tears mixed with the pooled ink on the table and formed patterns that looked like tiny digestive loops.
Elena looked at Raul. “The link gets tighter with every stitch.”
Raul dragged his knife across his sleeve. “At least the carving feels different now. Like the meat knows we share the tract.”
The dummy spoke sideways to the question no one asked. “The fetus remembers the childhood laugh from before the water.”
Mateo signed quickly at Elena. The boy ‘s eyes stayed wide. Elena answered without looking away from the carcass. “The needle did this when the tears hit the meat.”
The shared digestive tract made every movement feel joint. When Elena swallowed the fetus felt it. When Raul carved the dummy registered the motion in its wooden frame. The disgust convulsed their bodies. The dark euphoria spiraled their minds higher. The provocative irony sat in the fact that the pregnant taxidermist created life from dead things while her own fetus shared a gut with a dummy that spoke memories.
Raul picked up the dummy again. He held it close to his face. His usual detachment broke when he whispered to the wooden mouth. “Tell the memories about the night I carved the special carcass.”
The dummy laughed the childhood laugh. The voice came clear. “The special carcass had the first household objects stitched inside.”
Elena stopped stitching. The fetus kicked hard enough to make her belly shift visibly. The shared digestive tract sent the motion through to the dummy, and Raul felt it in his own stomach.
The black ink tears flowed faster from the needle. The pool on the table spread and touched the edge of the carcass. The ink mixed with the stitched objects, and the meat seemed to digest the black lines.
Mateo stood up. The boy walked to the table and touched the needle. The sentient tattoo needle wept one more tear that ran over his finger and left a dark streak.
The laugh came again from the dummy. The childhood sound filled the space, and the memories poured out without stop. “The flooded town digests everything now. The bells melt into the gut. The carvings feed the shared tract.”
Raul set the dummy down. He looked at Elena and Mateo. His voice carried the raw dark humor. “We eat as one now. The pregnant taxidermist the night watchman the deaf boy and the dummy all connected through the fetus and the needle.”
The disgust hit them all at once. Their bodies convulsed together. The dark euphoria followed, and their minds spiraled into the bizarre pleasure of the connection. The artistic intensity left them carrying the unresolved disturbance. The shared digestive tract refused any clean end. The black ink tears kept flowing. The childhood laugh echoed once more.
The fetus kicked again. The dummy answered with the laugh. The melting bells in the flooded town dripped in the distance. The needle wept. The gut remained shared, and the dark unpredictability stretched on without resolution.
The carcass on the table absorbed the last black ink tear. The stitched household objects settled deeper into the meat. The night watchman picked up his knife once more. The pregnant taxidermist drove the needle in again. The deaf boy watched the dummy. The laugh came one last time, and the shared digestive tract pulled them tighter into the bizarre whole.
The town stayed underwater. The memories stayed alive in the dummy’s voice. The black ink tears never stopped. The disturbance sat in their bodies and minds with no way out.
Want more gripping stories by Fendy S. Tulodo? Read “Beneath the Boards” from Horrific Scribes, March 2025, “Postmarked for My Bones” from Horrific Scribes, July 2025, and “Genesis in Reverse” in Horrific Scribes, November 2025.