‘Beg ’ Greg thinks as he wraps his massive fingers round her scrawny neck, tightening his hold ever so slowly.

For those who could hear, the room exploded into sound. The tiny wailing of the newborn babe, the final soundless screech of the asphyxiated, dying female as her vocal cords collapsed under tremendous pressure. Finally, the jeering laugh from the humongous bald head as it disappeared, vanishing into non-existence.
It sits in a dark, cold, lonely room — not even the slightest ray of light penetrates — haunted by the memories of what it could have been.
“3..1..1..1..” it mumbles, thumping its huge ham-fists against the wall. It longs for something it could never attain and this enrages it.

Liquid trickling down her thigh; Susan can feel it. It’s time. The moment she’s anxiously waited for is at hand. Nine months of anxiety, apprehension at the joy of supplying life to another being is up.
“Henry, it’s time”, she shouts. A sardonic silence greets her call. Then she remembers. He’s gone and for good too. Irritated by her clinginess she calls again. “Mary! Get down here. It’s time.”
The cook scrambles into the room, apron hanging loose round her neck, strings unfastened round her waist. Dinner is half-cooked.
“It’s time? Surely you can’t mean…It’s a week too early. I mean…”
Flustered and confused, her eyes reflect nothing but pure unadulterated joy. She’s prepared for this scenario though.
“Wait, What’s next?”, she questions herself.
“Mary, quit dillydallying, grab the supplies and help me get up from here!” .
Her senses kick in; she grabs the toilet bag and then the duffel bag containing alternate wears.
“I’ll get a cab madam” she says as she picks up the receiver.

Standing, it sniffs the air. Once, twice, thrice, massive nostrils sucking up huge quantities of air each time. The huge bobble-headed creature stumbles along on its stubby legs. That worrisome scent. A smell its perceived once, memorized eternally, marked for decimation. Its steel talon-like nails leave deep gashes in the wall as it drags them along the surface providing guidance its near blind green eyes cannot bestow. For a 5 foot Chuckie, it moves rather quickly.

The interior of the ambulance is stifling. Susan can hear the siren blaring as it tears down the highway. Stuck in traffic for two hours, an ambulance was summoned by a panicked cab driver. “Breathe, Madam” an attendant supplies, “Deep breaths.” The contractions are overpowering.
Breathe, a word reminiscent of old Dr McCarron; she can already see his pouched and pallid face.
‘Long inhales and exhales mid-labour and shot puffs like a choo-choo during labour itself’
No, she stoutly refuses to travel down that path but memory sweeps away her repudiation like a leaf within a storm. Thinking of the Dr. reminds her once again of Henry. How many times had they visited his office?
She’d been young and in love then; Stupid and vulnerable. Even now, her naïveté still hurt. How she’d jump to fulfil his every whim. Oh, the sins she’d committed for him and those she still would if he was here. Perhaps the real gift of their love was being abandoned for a Venezuelan model.
“Pregnant huh. Details?” the nurse asks.
“She’s progressed into the final stages, contractions between 10 to 15 minutes.”
Susan comes back to the present when she feels a pair of phalanges invading her nether region. She’s missed being wheeled into the hospital.
“Ah! Her cervix is just about fully dilated. I’d say she arrived just in the nick of time too. Roll her into the ER then!

The mantra continues. Its located the abomination’s hideout finally. It slinks into the room, alert for any sign of the monster. Dodging round creatures in faux green hides it searches with nose high in the air. Sniff , sniff then its face broadens into a wild grin. Target sighted.

Vaguely, she wonders where its coming from. Like an itch within the brain it bugs Susan.
She really wishes it would stop. She stops, looking round, searching for the perpetrator of the chafing incantation.
“PUSH”, a surgeon whispers soothingly, “You’re almost done madam, just a tad more. ” Susan really feels like screaming. The gut-wrenching sensation that deepens into hellish anguish for her is forcing the baby out of her womb. She forgets the chattering and tries for pushing again.
“Almost there, it’s crowning”, the surgeon exclaims for her benefit. “I can see it”.
There it is again.
Blink. Blink. Smile.
She sees it.
Like some wraith from the bottom of her imagination it appears before her, peering curiously over the surgeon’s shoulder.
It pushes.
The surgeon unexplainably flies 5 feet across the room. But not unexplainable to Susan. She saw it push.
It smiles.
She can see it baring its 32 razor sharp canines and she stares into its bottle green eyes.
“Dear Lord”.she whispers. “3..1..1..1..Gregggggg”
Greg? It can’t be!
But between the emerald eyes and the ‘Greg’, comprehension dawns.
Finally, she understands and it fillls her with terror beyond anything she’s ever experienced.

3 for the number of her children she’d murdered.
1 and 1 for the twins she’d murdered, from the heavens to the womb and back again never even touching Earth; Aborted.
And 1 for Greg.
Greg whom she’d abandoned at a nondescript location in a forest knowing he’d die of starvation and hunger or ravished by savage, hungry wolves. All she’d done at the wish of Henry.
Susan can feel the malice of the child-like menace aimed at her. Her vengeful offspring had come for her, literally counting her sins.
“Mercy”, she feebly pleads but all is wasted as she feels its phantom fingers wrap round her collar.
“Mama”, she hears
“Mama”, Greg repeats, green eyes twinkling with impish light.

Story written by @jus_kenny. Thanks Kenny.