Amanda sat anxiously on the toilet surveying the cubicle walls. A large piece of graffiti, jaggedly scratched in the back of the door stared down at her, demanding to be read.
PERFORM THE RITE
DROP YE BREEKS
AND TAKE A SHITE
Charming, she thought. She tore a square of toilet paper from the roll and folded it idly in her hands as she attended to her business. Not one to venture into public toilets, particularly for the longer form of the task, Amanda was keen to be away from this place. She preferred the sanctity of her own facilities. Her friends teased her when she spoke of her reluctance to use public toilets.
‘The world won’t turn to shit,’ they mocked. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’
Exposure to the bountiful bacteria-rich surfaces for starters, primarily the ungodly one upon which she now perched.
Today though, the need outweighed all else so here she sat, atop a stinking shopping mall public toilet, urging herself to finish quickly. When the transaction was complete, she stood, pulled up her breeks—to use the local parlance—and flushed.
The pipes clanked and churned loudly. Above, the fluorescent lights faintly flickered.
Amanda opened the cubicle door ready to wash her hands and wash this experience from her mind, only to be greeted by a man leaning against the sink. If his appearance in the ladies toilets wasn’t shocking enough, he was dressed in a kilt, luxuriant in red and green tartan.
‘Did ye perform the rite, lassy?’ he said fervently in a thick Scottish accent.
‘What?’ stammered Amanda, keeping her distance. ‘Who are you? This is the ladies room.’
‘This place be cursed, should the rite be complete.’
‘Rite? What are you talking about? Get out of here or I’ll call security.’
Amanda moved towards the door but the man quickly blocked her way. The words of her friends echoed in her mind. Frontrunner now for the worst thing that could happen in a public toilet was being assaulted by some Scottish weirdo.
‘Look mister,’ she said, finding venom in her voice, ‘I don’t know who you think you—’
‘Jus’ answer me lass,’ he said, ignoring her. ‘Did yer skin touch that unholy seal and did ye leave something behind?’
‘I beg your pardon!’
‘Did ye put yer bum on that seat and…’ he said, motioning towards the cubicle.
‘Well, yes, that’s generally how these things work,’ she said absentmindedly, shocked at being asked such a question.
‘But it’s no business of yours,’ she continued, regathering her composure.
‘Ah lass,’ he said forlornly. ‘In completing the rite ye broke the seal and crossed a line betwixt worlds.’
‘What!’ scoffed Amanda.
‘The world ye ken is gone.’
‘Right,’ she said, having had enough of this. ‘Quite the pleasure listening to your ramblings, now out of my way.’
‘Ye dinna wanna go oot there, lass.’
Amanda pushed past the man, purposefully striding through the door, back out into the mall. The scene before her so overwhelmed her senses that it took a moment to register.
Every surface, every object within sight, was smeared in a sludgy, brown, moist muck. The floor, like a syrupy bog, sucked at her feet and she sank as she tried to steady her balance. Above hung dark slimy stalactites from which dripped small brown blobs, landing on the floor with squelchy splashes.
A putrid smell penetrated her nose, invading her insides, as she breathed in.
‘It’s all…’ gasped Amanda, struggling to find words, to find air.
‘Aye lass,’ said the man emerging behind her. ‘’Tis all shite.’