The lantern at my side casts unintelligible shadows across the walls of the cave. The candles flickered as a chilling wind blows through the ragged entrance of the cave. The crosses on the wall shake lazily with the wind. The cool air is refreshing on my hot, sweaty skin. I lick the droplets of sweat and tears off my top lip, the salt burning my dry,cracked lips. The slick roof of the cave is covered with lichen and wolfsbane of a vibrant purple. I remember my mother referring to them as “the Devil’s Helmet”, because of their helmet shaped-like appearance. It was also because of the myth that the wolfsbane grew wherever the Devil has stepped. During this moment, I prayed to Kostroma that this was not true and that my pregnancy has not been cursed by the Devil himself. Before I went into labor two days ago, I prayed that my pregnancy would be smooth sailing and that evil would not touch me nor my baby.
However, the tears continue to flow as pain rips through my uterus. I can feel its its irregular head crowning and the hot fingers of Dimaka as she glides its head out. I groan when I see the disturbed look on Dimaka’s face. Something is wrong. I can feel it. Dimaka has always supported me and been the angel on my shoulder. She protected my reputation against the outlandish and twisted claims made against me. Her worry worries me.
The moist moss under my hands come out in tufts as I grip it in response to my pain and anxiety. By now I have scraped away most of the moss in this small area. The labor pain has been so intense that I bit through the metal Fania gave me, which seemed to have spiked fear in her. I roll my tongue over my sharpened teeth while remembering the riot that erupted after the changes had began. Twelve weeks into the pregnancy my teeth grew into pointed fangs, my hair became uncharacteristicly frizzy, my nails turned into pure white claws. For me, the most unsettling of all was the sudden formation of the Devil’s sigil on my prominent womb and the vile smell of sulfur that began to emit from my body. In 1853, where most of Slovakia is very religious, this change in appearance and me not being married, led to me being banished and kept in this cave until my pregnancy is over. By then, they will decide what do with me and my baby. The town now refers to me as Anichka, the Cursed Whore as I claim to not know who the father is.
The acrid scent snaps me out of my thoughts as Dimaka applies more lard around the opening. I gasp as I see a tiny hand reach towards Dimaka. Dimaka screams in surprise. At first I begin to weep in relieve that I'm finally closer to giving to my child but then I begin to yell in agony as I feel claws tearing their way through my womb. Blood gushes out in a stream as I am being torn from the inside-out. My throat becomes sore and rough, but I can't stop screaming. Blood tears blur my vision to the point where all I can see is red. The sickening smell of sulfur increases tenfold so that it covers the earthy smell of the cave.
Through my blurry vision I see Fania, the midwife, push an appalled Dimaka out the way, taking control of the birth. I feel a tug and the decrease of pressure as she removes the baby. Again I feel a tug as she pulls on something within me. Dimaka also grabs onto the unknown object. Wiping the blood tears out of my eyes, I witness the bloody, vibrant vine of wolfsbane being pulled out of my womb, one end seemingly attached to the baby. The disturbed look on Dimaka face worsens to the point her entire face is distorted.
Fania gets up to lay the baby on a blanket to the side, When i look at her, she doesn't seemed disgusted at all. In fact, through my blurred vision, it almost seems as if she’s smiling. Dread begins to fill my stomach as her smile widens, revealing rotten teeth and splitting her face in half. I blink my eyes and when I open them, her sockets are empty voids where her eyes should be. For some reason, I’m not worried about the baby, who’s been quiet this entire time. I know he’s not dead; I felt his movement as he came out.
My concern is about Dimaka, my friend for 17 years, who has her back turned to demonic Fania, oblivious that a massive shadow, with horns, is crouching over her. This entire time I thought to was a disfigured shadow, due to the flickering flame of the candles and lantern, but now it’s form is apparent. One of it’s splendidly arms is over Fania’s shoulder, the other reaching around Dimakan throat. Just I prepare to shout a warning to her, she cuts the vine, causing bile to raise in my mouth, the bitter liquid burning my tongue. Vomit sperws over the patchy moss. The sharp silence is pierced by the baby’s sudden cry.
With one twist, the shadowy figure breaks Dimaka’s neck, throwing her body into the air. She soars across the cave, her lifeless and limp body like a ragdoll. The crack as her head hits against the wall echoes throughout the cave. Her empty eyes stare back at me, the body in a awkward angle.
Tears slowly slip down the corners of my eyes. Before I pass out in exhaustion, demon Fania crawls on top of me, her rough and scaly hands gripping my shoulders, her repulsive breath scalding my face with her matted hair shrouding the horns protruding from her scalp. She bends down and her blackened teeth graze my ears. In a deep voice, she rasps in Slovak: “Diabol vás požehnal ako matku Chortu.”
I awake to the crying of the baby, who lays in my weakened arms, swaddled in red blankets. But his cry was unlike any cry I’ve heard come from a baby. It was inhuman. The sound was a mix between squealing and screeching. It was grating for my sensitive ears. Looking around, demon Fania isn't around in sight nor is the mysterious shadowy figure. My body buzzed with anxiety and trembled with fear as I became nervous as to where either one of the two may be. What if they were about town, looking for another victim. Fania was a stranger who claimed to have been sent by a deity. I shouldn't have trust her. It also dawned on me that Dimaka’s body is not where is was thrown before.
Maybe it was all a dream. A result from this grueling labor. Dehydration is known to cause hallucinations in humans. With all the sweating, crying, and screaming I’ve done for 48 hours, dehydration seems a likely cause. Yet, the denial is erased when I see the stain of blood on the slick cave walls, along with the bloody Devil’s Helmet placed on top of my empty belly. The smell of sulfur till engulfs the room.
My eyes again settle on the swaddled baby. Reluctantly, I lift my clawed hand toward the blanket. Panic causes me to freeze for a moment as the screeching/squealing cry from the baby ignites unease within me. Gathering courage, I pull back the blanket off the baby’s face. Horror fills my entire being as I look upon the things face.
Instead of my green eyes being reflected on its face, black beady eyes with red irises stared at me. Instead of dark blonde hair it was bald with curving horn rising out of it’s head. The area around the horns were tender and bright red with black veins extending and creeping towards his mouth. The thing’s mouth was not like a human’s, but a dark, rough foamy snout that reeked of sulfur. My baby resemble more of a demonic pig than a human.
Suddenly I felt sticky claws pressing against the top of my breast. I recoiled at the sight of it’s curved hooves, clawing at my shirt. The hooves singes my skin and the top of my blouse. Dropping the body, I manage to walk two steps before collapsing upon the bloody cave floor, too weak to stand.
Turning back towards the thing, it seems to be on its hand and knees, peering at me. By now, it has stopped screeching. Slowly, it raises to its full height, the blanket sliding off its deformed body. Whereas the thing stands to be only 15 inches, the shadow its cast extends to roof the almost 12 foot cave. Before me stands the shadowy figure that killed my best friend, the only one who stood by me after I was unfairly outcasted.
Sobs begin to rack my body as the true nature of my pregnancy dawns on me. As I fully comprehend what I just gave birth to.
The snort, hooves, upright skinny tail and the horns are unmistakable. It looks just like the crude detailed drawings my mother would show me as a little girl.
“Diabol vás požehnal ako matku Chortu.” Fania’s words resound in my head.
For 8 months I’ve carried this demon in my womb. I have given birth to Chort. I have released evil into this world.
From Loadtve.biz
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