The Womb

The gloomy interior of an abandoned factory. The air is dank and fetid. Somewhere in this crumbling, dark space the sound of machinery can be heard. The creak of metal grinding on metal, the hissing of steam and the low groan of rolling gears. In the centre of this vast, derelict mausoleum to industry a sickly amber glow emanates from a large and rusty, bulbous vat. A tangle of pipes and wires snake around the mysterious container. A porthole of murky glass reveals what is within. Floating in viscous fluid the colour of jaundiced eyes, a mass of flesh twitches and pulsates. Sprouting from the malformed thing are several indistinct limbs and fungus-like growths. Numerous eyes cover it’s over-sized head like jeweled cysts, all of which are darting madly about, surveying it’s life supporting prison chamber. A single coiled umbilical tube protruding from it’s distended stomach worms it’s way up and into the upper level of the machine.

I look at my creation before me with a mixture of pride and revulsion. For a long time now this abomination existed only in the shadows of my darkest dreams and now here it is! My invention, my life’s work, my child. The sound of soft whimpering brings me round from my reverie. A tired sobbing voice from above speaks,

“Is it ready, will he be coming soon my dear?”

“Oh yes. Very soon now.” I reply.

Fused to the top of this diabolical device is my dearest wife. We both wanted this, she needed extra help for her old body could not bear forth the child we wanted so badly. So, after many years of toil and near madness I made her a new “womb”. Her lower body has been removed, the upper torso melded together with the mechanical gestation pod. She seems so very tired and has become terribly frail and skeletal. Her skin so pale and transluscent like muslin, her hair wispy and cobweb-like. Her once blue, lively eyes are now grey, hollow pools of misted glass. She is a ghost, her former self was fed into the pipes and feeding tubules that give life to our unborn child. Soon he will be freed from his liquid cocoon. I peer into the pod and he sees me, he knows me. I may of imagined it, but I swear I saw him mouth the words,


Credit To: M. Green

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