Pandora’s Ootheca

A short horror story about an adoptive mother's love for her strange children.

Pandora sat on the edge of her chipped “vintage” avocado green bathtub with her phone in her hand, staring at a text from her boyfriend, Brad.

Hey baby sup?

She cringed, tapping her fingers on the case and replying with a curt,

Busy. The phone pinged again almost instantly.

Busy? WTF w what?

She let out a long slow breath, curling her toes into the furry black bath mat.

Call you later, promise.

SRSLY? WTF is up w you?

He was so high maintenance. Not for the first time she questioned her own sanity in still dating him.

Nothing. I’m just in the middle of something important. Call you later, ok?

He could be cool, there was the time he’d surprised her with tickets to LA to see her favorite band. And for a self-obsessed man child he was surprisingly great in bed. But then…

Dude better be yoked or he’s fuckin dead.

…he could also be a total fucking waste of flesh.

FFS, not a guy. Hair emergency.

Christ. BYE

“Asshole,” Pandora hissed under her breath as she swiped the phone from messages to camera. She turned on the flash and aimed at the hardened mass of foam attached to the underside of her bathroom counter. Somehow Brad had missed the large, off-white lump every time he’d been to her apartment. Either he was too intellectually stunted to wonder about it, or too conceited to notice anything other than his own reflection while he was in the can. She rubbed her temples and decided not to think about Brad for at least another hour.

The mass moved. It was barely noticeable, but it, or more accurately, something inside of it, had been moving all morning and it was now crazed with a dozen zigzagging hairline cracks. The shape of a football halved lengthwise, and with the hardness and texture of dried foam insulation, the large mass had appeared, wedged between the cabinet and the underside of the counter, about three weeks earlier. Pandora had only seen one other thing even remotely like it in her life.

Her Great-Aunt Myra, at nearly ninety years old, had discovered a wasp nest in her kitchen pantry and live-streamed her attempt to destroy it on YouTube. Her death had been slow and painful and she’d managed to record most of it. Pandora could still hear her wheeze as her throat closed up and she forced out her last words. The post had gone viral and thousands of strangers all over the web had argued for months about what those last words had actually been. Knowing Aunt Myra, it was probably, “don’t try this at home.” Pandora had initially assumed the mass in her bathroom was a wasp nest and had decided to heed Auntie M’s advice.

The exterminator had shown up late. He had been a skinny, balding man in blue coveralls and Raybans. He’d clicked his tongue and shook his head when she’d showed it to him.

“Looks exactly like an ootheca,” he’d said, the tobacco scent rolling off him in pungent waves and making Pandora light headed, “‘course, it’s waaaaay too big to be one of those.” An ootheca, he’d explained with many hand gestures, was an egg sac. There were several types of oothecae, he had demonstrated the various shapes. “But this ain’t none of those. Too big, like I said.” He had stopped, leaned over the counter, and put the lid back on Pandora’s q-tip jar, “ladies always have that styling mousse around, right? A can of that probably leaked.”

“But how?” Pandora was nauseous from the tobacco and irritated. If mousse dried rock hard the hair emergencies would become very real. “How could it have leaked under the counter?”

“‘Fraid I don’t use the stuff. Not sure how that might happen. Can exploded, that’s the best bet.” He balled up his fist and then opened his fingers wide to signify an explosion.

“So you won’t get rid of it?”

“Nope. I’d get something sharp and chisel it off. Do you have a screwdriver? You can pick those up at any hardware store if you don’t. You been to one of those?”

So many assholes, so few screwdrivers. Pandora had kicked him out, refusing to pay the consultation fee. A stab in the wallet, instead of the gut.

The mass shifted and a muffled chittering sound came from inside. Pandora cooed to it, then laughed nervously at her own tender reflex. Online she’d learned that most oothecae were indeed small, no more than an inch in length, and that they were primarily laid by mantids and cockroaches. So there were eggs in there. What kind of eggs they were was a mystery even the internet couldn’t solve. There weren’t even any bad photoshops of giant oothecae out there. Pandora had considered visiting the local university with pictures, but she was afraid they’d either have her escorted out by campus security as a total nut or call in the feds and have her apartment quarantined. No, their mother had done her best to protect the eggs, Pandora could do the same. Besides, they might be some rare creature heretofore living in obscurity that had been brought out of hiding by climate change. She did not want an extinction on her conscience. The thing chittered again and the ootheca cracked through the middle.

Still, motherhood had never been on her bucket list. She liked children and they seemed to like her, too, but she’d never wanted to rear any. Motherhood was an endless and thankless task impossible to get right. Not to mention the damage it would do to her body. All the expanding and stretching and shifting and breaking. Why put herself through something so destructive just because she was physically capable of doing it? She was also physically capable of dislocating her own shoulder joint, but that didn’t mean she did it for kicks at parties or anything. Anymore.

She wondered about the ootheca residents’ actual mom. Did she have a choice in the matter? Was she driven by biology to mate and spawn? Had the act of birth been painful? Or deadly? Or maybe she was recuperating and was lurking around in the apartment, waiting for her spawn to call to her. Most likely she’d just left. Pandora knew from the research she’d done that very few insect mothers (if this was an insect) stick around to rear their babies. Besides, the mother must be huge, probably not something she’d miss. She must have come in at night. Not a pleasant thought really, and one that gave rise to an endless monologue of other unpleasant thoughts. She’d checked her bedroom at least four times for any possible entrance point and now slept with the door closed.

“Too bad you can’t just tell me about your mom.” Pandora slid off the hard edge of the tub and sat on the bath mat. It made sense to talk to the ootheca. There were living things in there after all, they might need… encouragement. They might even bond to her if they heard her voice. An antithetical thought struck her, too, she could just knock the thing off into a bucket with a fire in it. She shivered imagining it, though, what if they screamed? She wouldn’t be able to bear it. She bent forward and ran her fingers along the hard, porous shell.

“Hello in there. I’m not your mother, and I won't try to be, but if you need assistance getting out into the world I’ll gladly offer it.” The egg case shifted again and cracked. A large chunk fell off and bounced on the linoleum between the toilet and the counter. Pandora jumped up and stood looking at the golfball sized piece of ootheca. It had left a big hole. Could they squeeze out now? She waited, halfway to the bathroom door and ready to run if a thousand inky horror movie wasps started to pour out. But nothing happened. She walked back over to it, snatched the broken piece from the floor, and held it. It was light, lighter than she expected, but strong too. She couldn’t break it with her hands. Nothing had crawled out so she knelt back down to inspect the opening. There wasn’t one, not really, the ootheca appeared to be lined with a thin, milky white membrane. Something dark moved behind the barrier and she thought again about the bucket of fire as her heart leapt into her throat.

A shiny hook shot through the barrier. Pandora gasped and fell back, knocking her head on the edge of the tub. She scrambled up and into the bathtub, waiting, tensed. Nothing more emerged. She rubbed her head and watched. The hook was smaller than the hook of a coat hanger, deep, reddish brown and glistening with oozy wetness. It twisted and prodded at the open air, feeling around for purchase. There was nothing for it to grab and it eventually rested against the opening it had created. This was different than swatting a fly. This thing was big. She’d never killed anything that big before. Curiosity drove her out of the tub. She crawled over to the ootheca and reached out and touched the hook. It was tough and slick and jerked back into the hole at her touch.

“Don’t worry little buddy. I won’t hurt you.” She kept her finger extended, a sign of trust. The hook extended again and felt for her finger, then wrapped around it, coiled, like a tentacle kind of, but with several joints she hadn’t noticed at first. It was a warm, strong grip. Pandora laughed, joy and terror bubbling in her chest. The timed release of the air freshener dispenser on the counter hissed and the hook retreated back into the egg case.

“Way to ruin the moment, jade summer.”

Pandora moved away from the ootheca and sat on the edge of the tub again, cradling her chin in her hands. No, she’d never wanted to be a mother. But this was more like a pet owner. Not the same thing at all. She was a compassionate person, she did her best to help fellow living beings. She returned stray dogs and cut apart the plastic soda bottle rings to save fish and birds and sea turtles. Childless didn’t mean heartless. All her adult life she’d stood her ground against all the negativity society, and her mother, threw at her for deciding to not to have kids. Now, she wanted to help this creature and she was vexed that she had to rationalize it to herself. God, and what would her mother say? What would Brad say?

“Oh, fuck Brad,” she whispered, leaning forward and brushing her fingers against the rough ootheca again. “Come on out, my little darling.”

Her phone buzzed on the counter. She jumped and cursed. It was Brad.

Babe! Is your hair done yet? I need some laundry done…. And I miss you.

Pandora typed back:

Not done yet. Go to your mom’s.

And?

Be nice to her.

srsly :(

She slammed her phone down on the edge of the tub. The egg case cracked again and another chunk broke off exposing more of the milky sac underneath. Four dark round eyes peered out at her through the translucent film. She saw the eyes disappear and reappear.

“They blinked. Oh my God they blinked!” It made her chest hurt, the realization that at least some part of them was familiar. She held back tears and swallowed a sob.

“Are there only two of you?” She knelt down in front of the ootheca and tried to make out the jumble of limbs and heads inside. There were five creatures, maybe. Up close the sac smelled pungent, sour, and there was a thick yellow liquid dripping from it onto the floor. Birth was messy, she’d heard. Things must break, a woman’s body, or even the Earth itself, to create new life.

Another hooked limb broke through the membrane. It brushed her cheek as it poked wildly at the air and left a long, deep scratch. She sat back on her heels and put her hand to her skin, her fingers came away bloody. She smiled and wiped the blood on her jeans.

“Well, now we know those are sharp. I’ll have to teach you to be careful.” She leaned forward again and put her hand against the sac, it was warm and soft. Inside the creatures squirmed against her, an urgent pressure, breaking more of the ootheca off. It crumbled and fell to the floor.

Pandora took her hand away.

“You’ll need a soft place to land when you finally bust out of there, won’t you?” She cleared away the chunks of egg case and set them aside. She knew some animals ate their egg shells or casings after they were born so she wanted to keep the bits close. Then she laid down several plush towels. The creatures were getting more active and the egg case was breaking up faster. Thinking about them eating the shell made her wonder what sort of regular diet they would have. She quickly left the bathroom, closing the door behind her to make sure no one escaped, and went to the kitchen. She gathered some of everything, fruit, veggies, cheese, cold cuts, eggs, leftover chicken breast, and spread it out on the bathroom floor where the creatures could easily get it if they wanted to.

Her phone buzzed again and she rolled her eyes. The lock screen displayed a text from Brad:

Baaaaabbbeee! I really need laundry done.

She ignored him. Another hooked limb sliced through the sac then was immediately withdrawn. Then, a head. Pandora bit her lip and watched the sac stretch around the slick crown. She sat back amazed and found tears spilling down her cheeks. The head was scaled, or armored in what looked like iridescent green plates, imbricated and flexible. Long, rubbery-looking black spikes, or spines framed its round face. Its mouth was wide, stretching in a grin that wrapped around the curvature of its head. The thing yawned revealing strange teeth that were small, tightly packed in several rows, and looked like pearls set in plates of thick bone. They seemed more like instruments for crushing than slicing and it made her curious to see what food the creatures went to first.

Soon, four more heads popped out of the sac, grinning their huge grins and taking their first breaths. Now that their heads were out she could see that they were round like owls, but slightly crested at the top. They blinked their big black eyes repeatedly as, she assumed, they got used to the light. She wondered if they were nocturnal with such huge black eyes. Next the hooks poked back through, widening the holes in the stretching, sagging sac. Their shoulders popped through, Pandora saw that the rubbery armor covered their upper torsos too, even their bellies were protected. More goo squeezed from the holes in the sac with a pungent, wet splat. It finally split, spilling the five creatures onto the towels below. They were rat-sized with heads that looked too large for their thin bodies. The way they twined around each other was almost serpentine.

Pandora hated that the only comparisons she had for them were from known animals. They were unique, they needed unique names and words. Their back feet were clawed and had three toes each. Their front feet ended in the hooks she’d already seen, but they seemed to move around well enough on them. She wondered if they ever slithered completely on their bellies, or ever walked upright. When she got up the courage to touch one, the pressure in her chest returned and she sobbed again. She brushed the nearest one’s back with her fingers, lightly, afraid it might be sensitive after just having been born. It turned and blinked its big black eyes. Then it smiled, or what seemed like a smile, stretching its huge mouth even wider and showcasing its odd, nubby teeth. As she watched it turn and join its siblings in exploring the food she’d left out for them, she wondered if all she’d ever needed to be comfortable with motherhood were the right children.

Outside, in the hall, she heard Brad’s voice calling her name and his footsteps approaching. She hoped he felt the same way about fatherhood. The creatures went straight to the chicken, crunching and crushing the meat and bone in huge, ravenous bites. The doorknob turned, the creature’s heads turned, too. Their mouths widened, bits of chicken and bone were wedged in between their nubby teeth. It was impossible to know what they were going to do when he opened the door.

Pandora would just have to wait and see.