Makings of a Monster

The babies are crying again. There are so MANY of them. The little boy, not yet four years old, tries to squeeze his ears shut, even though it makes his head ache violently. There are so many babies that some of them are always crying. And his dreams are so frightening. He sees crimson spurting flows, feels the horrid thump as something lifeless thuds to ground by his hand. He feels high-pitched horrified screams of agony, sickening crushing of breaking bone. He doesn't understand the dreams.

When he stirs in his sleep and wakes up, panting, pale and sweating, he has an odd wish. He would like two soft, warm and safe arms to comfort and protect him. But he just clutches his knees and comforts himself with rocking motion. He has long since ceased crying if he awakes in pain or frightened. No one will ever come.

There are a lot of women in the temple as well. They feed the babies much as they feed the chickens and pigs. They are only vaguely aware that the boy exists. The boy can feel, if not understand, the atmosphere of great anticipation and fanatic devotion. There is an odd fire burning behind their eyes, and the boy doesn't understand it any more than he understand the chants and prayers. He listens intently, though. He mouths the strange utterances, trying his best to make sense of them.

He doesn't make a sound, just observes with his amber-glowing, strange eyes. He doesn't wish to attract attention. The women are obviously doing something important now. They are carrying chalices and sharp knives. The boy can feel the magic sparkling and tingling in the air. An feeling of immense dread overcomes him. It is as if something really enormous and dreadful is approaching fast with swift predatory rage... what is happening? It is not unlike his dreams but he is awake now. What is going ON?

When the first women carrying the babies approach the altar he won't quite believe it.. they wouldn't? When the first little bundle is swiftly beheaded he wants to scream, scream at the revolting sight of the tiny head rolling away and the thick flow of blood flowing in the chalice. He bites his fist so hard he almost gags, willing himself to be quiet. The second baby dies longer. It screams and wails as its life fades away and, in steady and calculated movements, faces as emotionless masks, the women go for more babies, their hands still red with blood. And suddenly an even greater horror hits the boy: they are probably going to kill him, too! He eyes his surroundings frantically, but there's nowhere to go. The temple is made of stone, it has no windows and it's doors are barred from the outside. The women are big and strong and wield this strange magic he can feel in the air and, oh no, oh don't make the baby scream so, please just kill them just kill them I can't take that screaming

there's nowhere to hide and the smell of blood is so thick and the little, mangled corpses are starting to pile up and they chant ever more intently and that horrible thing is coming nearer and nearer

and he tries to become one with the shadows but more and more of the helpless babies are taken and no no no I don't want to think about it, I must not loose myself to my horror, there must be a way out, somewhere to hide as the women approach, now seeing him and pointing at him, relentlessly and he grabs, grabs the nearest baby, who starts screaming and he runs and they chase and oh no they have killed so many already they will catch us and it feels like a stony fist crushing his chest as he runs runs runs

and suddenly everything is a big chaos, some strangers storming the temple and there is shouting and lightning and explosions and sickening thuds of mace and blood, ever more blood as the strange man comes to the corner where the boy is holding the baby and oh gods, gods! The temple starts to collapse, the chants gone, many corpses littering the ground and the strangers starting to retreat. The strange man has eyes the boy has never seen like. They look at him and the baby in his arms as if they really were THERE, as if they were something precious.

The stranger grabs his hand and takes the baby, and starts to drag him as more priestesses approach. He is the last of the retreating strangers and the priestesses are already aiming their spells at him, his spells already gone, and he drags the boy but his hand slips! Frantically the kind-eyed stranger eyes the boy, then the approaching priestesses, his friends who are hurrying away, then runs, the baby with him, and the boy tries to clutch his robes, but can't and he falls, exhausted, on the floor, looking at the retreating back in despair...

but then he realises that the priestesses' attention is aimed at the retreating strangers and the crumbling stones and so he stealthily, quietly, one movement at time sneaks away from the opened doors. His eardrums aching, his throat sore, his eyes prickling with tears he retreats further and further from the temple, and when he finally knows that no-one is following him anymore he just collapses, a little boy full of horror he doesn't understand, too tired to move on, too frightened to feel hungry, too drained to cry. As he shivers from cold and looks at the indifferent moon far above he swears this: he will survive. He doesn't understand why people want to kill him, but life is sweet and he won't let it go no matter what.