Skip to main content

Life Cycle

“We literally had a window with a view of eternity. Once I saw it in person, I decided I never wanted to think about it again.”
This was Meghan York’s most repeated sentiment about his time in space.  The infinite void rather than inspire Meghan’s mind had provoked an existential dread. The dark emptiness was something she never wanted to face again.
Upon his return to humanity’s celestial cradle, Meghan rejected the curiosities that had to lead her to the very demarcation line of human existence and instead embraced his biological imperative to raise offspring.
“Life,” Meghan told herself, “Life is the only remedy.”
Meghan was not annoyed to be awoken by the cries of her infant son crackling over the baby monitor. She was laying in bed anticipating its calls for a midnight feeding.
The crib was against the wall opposite the door. A woven canopy of softly glowing lights gently flowed out from a fixture above casting gentle shadows on the room’s sky blue paint. Hearing the door open the baby’s cries grew sharper.
“It’s ok I’m here Meghan,” whispered as she approached the crib.
She lifted out the crying child and rocked him gently.
“Shh shh,” it’s alright she gently reassured him.
Meghan, though she felt something move against her palm under the child’s pajamas. She patted around but couldn’t find anything. She held her baby’s chubby warm cheek against her own and felt another moving lump.
She held him under the light and was horrified to see several lumps rushing along under her child’s skin.
“Oh, my god.”
In an instant, the child’s flesh appeared as if it were boiling. Its scarlet cheeks bulged as did it’s almond eyes now streaked with crimson veins. IT’s entire body began to bubble as if something was trying to tear it’s way out.  The child took in a great gulp of air and quickly expanded before exploding in a cloud of blood all over its screaming mother. 
Megan’s body went into convulsions. Warmblood drenched her hair and ran down her cheeks. In the pool of viscera at her feet that a moment before had been her child a shimmering swarm of insects that looked like a horde of rouge painted lips and teeth scurring on dozens of tiny legs started running up her legs.
Meghan tried to swat them away, but there were too many. She turned to turn run, but they were all over her now bitting and burrowing into her flesh. Her limbs went numb, and she fell into the vile pool of shredded remains. Her eyes closed and for a fleeting moment everything was silent and dark when they opened it was as if time skipped a beat and everything was calm again.
The insects were gone. Meghan stood up and without a word left the room leaving bloody footprints as she went.
She could feel them moving inside her now, but she was afraid. She was a blank slate now, without emotion and fear just a walking vessel for a cruel new life form.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

There are no closets in foxholes

Private Stuart Breyers had joined the marine corps during peacetime. The plan was to use his two-year hitch as a transition period into becoming an independent young man. Not six weeks after his 19th birthday the boy’s limited term of existence had been significantly curtailed. He had no more years to look forward to only mere moments.
He walked in a single file line with his comrades under the darting eyes of their Japanese captors. His fingers were laced behind his head, and he didn’t dare move his hands to shield his eyes from the blinding tropical sun or the salty sting of his sweat. Breyers had spent his life in the vast cornfields of Middle America where the grey skies of winter lingered for months on end. The Pacific sun turned his flesh a pulsing red. The Japanese fleet loomed ominously in the still crystal blue waters. The massive steel barrels of their guns had returned to their resting position. Occasionally a grenade blast in the thick jungle rattled the birds out of the tr…

The Borderline Angel of Death

I would like to thank Burning House Press for featuring this piece!

At the age of thirty, Daniel Lufto lived alone in a single bedroom apartment. In his first thirty years on Earth he had made very few lasting connections, and at this point, his existence had virtually no perceptible impact on anyone else. He was just another recurring face on the bus ride to work, a vaguely remembered customer in the local liquor store.
As a human being, Daniel existed on a strictly interim basis. His home was even on a month to month arrangement. On any day he and his meager belongings could be swept out and with that almost any trace of Daniel's corporeal existence.
Daniel wasn’t so solitary by choice. He and the world around him could never find the proper way to engage each other. Daniel grew up, but he never developed into a fully fleshed out human being. He had no particular interests or hobbies absolutely nothing could captivate him. It was as if he had been deprived an imagination and was…

The Bronze Bull

After the Mormon army armies reached the east coast, they set to work salvaging and restarting the long-abandoned foundries scattered across the landscape. The blast furnaces once again were swollen with molten steel, and the towering brick stacks erupted with volcanic ferocity. The forked flames lashed at the clouds and the billowing smoke blackened the sky heralding the ascendancy of the continent's new masters.
Roaming bands of scavengers had been picking at the bones of New York City for decades. THe nibbling quickly turned into a full feeding frenzy. Legions of landless farmers and rootless laborers descended on the ruins. They worked as ceaselessly as termites to hollow out the steel carcass.
John Nelson had traveled a long way to get a look inside the old city. He was a Captain Edler in the Bringham Young regiment an outfit that had spent the better part of a decade fighting across the continent. The spry young Captain was an avid student of history, and even though dead o…