literature

In the Form of a Child.

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          “I probably won’t miss you.” My mother said, her eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. She no longer tried to feign love for me. Though I am curious if she said those words for me or to herself.

 

 

           “I’m only interested in the end of the world.” I replied, unfazed by the loss of maternal warmth.  

 

 

          I looked up at my mother; she was taller than me, significantly so. I came to maybe her elbow, perhaps a little higher. This made sense, my being a child after all. At least, this body was that of a child.

 

 

           “You may take her now.” Mother whispered to whomever it was holding the chains that bound my wrists behind my back. What a fun journey this has been, I chuckled to myself.

 

 

          I was born to this woman some years ago; just a little thing in her belly when I started wreaking havoc on her life.  No one believed that she was untouched and pure as I grew inside her. They all begged and pleaded for her to tell them who the father was. Little did they know she didn’t have a name to tell; I was a fatherless child. They disowned her, abandoned her, and left her on her own. She was a naïve woman; she believed I was a gift from God. I was the second coming, put inside the womb of an innocent. She was so naïve.

 

 

          I grew and aged as children do, I spoke and walked and learned as children do. For all intents and purposes I was as children are, small and young and curious. I was not as children are though, when you looked upon me I looked nothing like the offspring of man. Horns of blackened bone twisted out from my skull, piercing the skin and standing out from my head. Deep blood-red locks tumbled around them, almost shielding my next anomaly. Behind a veil of curly bangs sat my eyes, large for my size and face, but sunken and dark. No white shone in them, only black surrounded the soft yellow hue of my pupils, shaped so decoratively into the marks of hell. My fingers and toes ended in black claws, no matter how much mother tried she could never get them filed down. Mother started to realize I wasn’t sent by God.

 

 

          I never tried to be a good child, perhaps that’s why now I am given to these people by my own dear mother. I was never shy about those parts of me that craved. Craved for the sight and feel and taste of blood; craved for death and despair and chaos. I would slip out of the little home mother had made for us in a little town where no one knew I existed at night and play. Mother never let me out of the house to play with the other children during the day. Mother said it was to protect me, but I knew she didn’t want them to know that this monstrosity had been born of her body. I obliged her, for she obliged my slinking out at night into the bedrooms of children and babes, where I feasted on what I truly desired.

 

 

          It had started small; I only partook in the pleasure of flesh maybe once every few months. Until that was not enough. It became every month then every week until it was nearly every day that the pangs of hunger hit me.  The town ran out of children, parents wept and grieved for those they lost that would never be found. No one had a clue it was the spawn of the timid woman that worked silently at the library and never spoke at the market. No one thought that inside that woman’s home laid a girl such as me.

 

 

          Yes, perhaps that is why she is giving me up. Perhaps she worries of what I will do now that I have nothing more to feed upon.  I don’t know who these people are but they wear clothes that reek of sacred water and holiness. They wear the marks of Christ upon their foreheads and carry dark unnamed books in their clutches. I wonder silently how it was my mother became acquainted with these men. That’s quite unimportant though, a trivial concern in the course of events.

 

 

           “Come-” The eldest of them began, turning towards my mother. “What did you say the thing’s name was?”

 

 

           “Lilith.” Mother answered, watching them push me forward towards a future I’m sure held much interest.

 

 

           “How fitting.” He growled, under his breath. How pathetic, I will have to show him how one really growls. “Come, Lilith, we will save you from the demon that holds your soul hostage.”

 

 

          I let them nudge me forward, too busy laughing, out of the house and into the dark and frigid night. The moon hung languidly in the sky, peering down at us with a silver gaze. They truly don’t understand. I thought for a moment to plead with my mother, simply to play on the weak strings of her heart and leave the searing memory of my abandonment. I didn’t bother, though. Let her believe she has won, that she has stopped the end of days.

 

 

          These poor men, that would try to cure me, heal me, in the days to come. I pity them, on a level of my being that may know what pity feels like. They do not know and for that I feel almost sorry. The Judgment Day, the one spoken of in their little black books would not come in the way they thought it would.  There will be no flood no hand reaching from the sky. No great fires or flames; no quaking earth or whirling winds. No, none of that. I am the tenth plague to the extreme. I will feast on the life and meat of the young, until there is not future for the human race. I will cause so much grief and devastation to the parents of those lost they will not be able to carry on. The end of the world will be the complete and total eradication of man from the globe.

 

 

          I am not a gift from God, I was not sent down from some heavenly body. I am the apocalypse. I am the end of days and the Judgment of man. I will bring the end of this world with blood and screams. No demon holds me hostage; no one dictates my actions besides myself. I am a thing born of Hell and sent forth into my Mother’s womb to be born and destroy this world. I am the ender of humans, I the killer of man, woman and child. No one will live. I smile as I’m pushed into a car, long and sleek with tinted windows. They truly believe these chains can subdue me, that this car could hold me, and that their faith could stop me. How naïve.

 

 

         No one believed the damnation of the Earth would come in the form of a child.

I apologize to anyone that found this "messed up" or was offended by the religious aspect.
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TheSerialPoet's avatar
Wow. That was really powerful and well-written. ^^ Would it be alright if I drew Lilith sometime?