Flash Fiction Horror for Black Harvest

Motherhood

Motherhood

499 Words

         The smell of man odor permeates the air. The thought of the approaching warm flesh and its moist droplets of sweat on salty skin make my tongue grow thick with want.

         Long have I sat amid these caverned halls. Only once before has such a banquet come to me. Just after my ship crashed into a tangled web of metal, synthetics, and dead shipmates, a band of men wandered into the cave. I thought at first that I should befriend them, but our conversations grew tedious, and the scent of flesh drove me beyond reason. They were delicious.

         Until now, no more cave explorers have sauntered into my domain. Pity. The bats have grown scarce, and I have grown apathetic to the pale, half-blind frogs which are still so abundant. My once bloated skin now sags and grows porous.

         Ah, I feel my teeth growing thick and sharp in readiness. My proboscis swells.

         The first of the humans, I can tell from his scent and tread, is a male of massive size. I remember such beasts having huge thighs and thick, leathered skin. I shall inject him with venom and let his corpse decompose in the outer rooms where it can ripen to palatability.

         “Ah,” I sigh again, licking my proboscis. The sour fragrance of my venom pervades the air as I salivate, for I have caught wisps of a second creature, a soft, sweet-smelling female. She will do perfectly for my immediate feast.

         Behind her, I smell more beasts. I cannot sort them yet. The male in front is too strong-scented, but my auxiliary senses tell me others follow. Perhaps there will be enough meat to allow an offspring release. What delight that would give me.

         I pat my womb. My thoughts have stirred the egg’s wakefulness. It rumbles and rotates in aggravation.

         “Yes, you are right, my child. It has been too long,” I buzz softly. I stroke my soft belly in contemplation.

         Thus, do I bow to the need of my child. I allow my body to begin the process. Substances inside me blend. My egg fertilizes. The sweetness of orgasm surges through me, and I writhe in ecstasy.

         Minutes pass. My body, although replete with pleasure, now feels a different kind of satisfaction.

         “My child,” I hum. Pride and love flush through me. I hum louder.

         “My little one," I say to it, buzzing tenderly.

         My venom is at readiness, but I gnaw at claw tips. Sharpened pointer claws will be needed to pierce the outer layer where I shall lay my newborn.

         The human male turns the corner. A single shot from my proboscis, and he slumps to the ground. The woman cries out. She is next. And then comes another and another and another. . .

         Inside me my son roars.

         “Patience, little one,” I tell him lovingly.

         I pause to send a prayer to our gods to thank them, and then I drop down to the woman’s body and dine . . .