Despair

Be Strong

The cave was full of bones and skulls. Mank saw the body of a young girl, her belly ripped open. Three little monsters were clinging to her, sinister screams bounced between the stone walls. He was breathing heavily. The smell was unbearable, the smell of rotting flesh made his stomach revolt.

The little creatures moved closer. They moved on all four, like babies. Fast. They resembled the monster whom had brought him there, lacking its wings. More humanoid. Recently born with an instinctive lust for murder.

The big one stood behind him, between he and the exit. A creature of horror, a beastly demon of terror.

Sweat poured down his neck, his jaw was shaking. His legs. Fear. Disgust. He fell on his knees, crying. Pleading.

The little monsters came closer. Sniffing in the air, screaming.

A voice was speaking to him from within. From somewhere deep inside, somewhere long forgotten. The voice of ancestors and beast, of lost times of hard survival.

Be strong.

There was nothing else he could do.

Another version of this story Β can be found on my tumblr account

https://ojcade.com/2014/11/17/so-youve-written-a-mystical-pregnancy/

http://reel3.com/reassessing-alien-sexuality-and-the-anxieties-of-men/

Tears of Blood

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