Archive for April, 2012


Hello ningensei (Humans, in case you wondered what that meant).
I bring you a story I joyfully received from one of the witers on one of my favorite blogs, (Pass The Salt), @Titaenium!
Do read and enjoy! 🙂


“So the devils besought him, saying,
if thou cast us out,
suffer us to go away into the herd of swine”

Matthew 8:31
(King James Bible {Cambridge Edition})


The lake is still.
A monstrous mirror; reflecting the empty, endless blue of the sky.
She wants it to move.
She picks up a perfect pearl of a pebble and tosses it but before it slams into the sliver surface of the water, she wishes she hadn’t. The splash is deafening, sending ripples across the lake’s surface, turning glass into liquid.
Mary smiles a little as the chaos oddly calms her nerves for a moment. The lake is returning to stillness, but she isn’t. Her mind is a jumble of jagged emotion. She won’t cry. She didn’t cry the last three times and she won’t now.  He was just a boy. She had loved him; had imagined a wedding in the springtime, in  a garden bursting with colour and life. Then he had called to tell her he was on another continent. He was never coming back. There was no emotion in his voice but she could see him in her mind’s eye walking down some red-dirt road, avoiding a bustling crowd, full of colour and life, chewing his teeth as he forced out the words.

She had smiled through her tears as she whispered goodbye and calmly walked to the lake. A place she only knew. She had brought him here to her place.  They had kissed in the soft scented air, rolled around in prickly grass, sunbathed naked. He had  filled her hair with lilies and kissed her, told her how beautiful she – a loud scream escapes her lips as she grabs a handful of the pebbles that litter the bank and flings them into the air above the lake. They fall in staccato, puncturing the still glass of the lake for a second time and causing birds to take flight from the trees, where they had been silent, choked by the hot air.
She falls to her knees and ragged sobs escape her. She wants to stop but she can’t, love has fucked her over again and it hurts.

“Are you alright?” a deep voice rumbles above her. She looks up and sees a man, a very beautiful man. He’s physical rugged, matching his gravel-in-velvet voice and she would have believed he was some sort of construction worker if she hadn’t seen the paint smeared across both his knuckles.
“Yes.”, she says standing up,  dusting moist sand off her yellow sundress and tucking blood red hair behind her ears. , “I’m fine, just a little…tired”
“You looked  like you were having a meltdown and it didn’t look ‘a little tired”. His voice is tinged with sarcasm. She giggles.
“Well, it was  tired, when I have actual meltdowns I spit fire.”. It’s his turn to laugh.
“I’m Lucius”, he says extending his green, blue and yellow hand.
“Mary”, she says as she grabs it. It’s warm and rough and it makes her feel safe again. She stares into his eyes and her heart skips.  They’re the colour of rum, almost red.
“You’re bleeding”, he points to her knees, his brows, wrinkled.
“Sorry?”. She’s busy staring at his cheek covered in ink black stubble, she wants to touch it and forget.
“You are bleeding.?” He says, emphasizing the –eeding
She looks down, sees the raw red skin and realizes that her knees are tingling and that they have been since she met her Knight with Painted Hands.
“Oh. I h-“
“I’ll just go get  my painting gear, so we can get it checked at my place.”

They walk a short way along the bank till they get to his easel, stuck in the soggy earth. On it is a large painting of the lake in all it’s still glory; lush blues and shimmering greys, at the left bottom corner, she sees herself, a yellow smear  frozen in thought, staring across the lake. It’s breathtaking. She’s feels small and fragile.
As he bends over to wrap it in moist muslin, she knows what she has to do to forget her fuckhead ex.
Sex heals.
They walk to his apartment which isn’t so far from the river.
He goes to get his first aid kid as she perches tentatively on a sofa.
He comes back and dutifully begins to clean up her wound.
The moment he drops the soaked cotton ball and rises to look at her face, biting his lower lip innocently, she attacks.
He tastes like creamy coffee and smells of citrus, lake air and a heady male musk. His body is hard against hers and as she works her tongue into his mouth grabbing his stubble covered jaw , he hoists her and slams her into a wall kissing her back with a heat that makes her toes curl then he takes her to the room. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it over his shoulder; she has her dress in a pool at their feet. He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist, he moves sliding across the smooth wood floor of his apartment and drops her into the bed, pressing her into the soft cotton sheets with his fever hot body. He unclasps her bra and takes a nipple into his mouth and the world shivers.

They’re dancing.

A primal dance, punctuated with the music of their moans. She’s above him, head thrown back, pale neck exposed, stomach bellowing furiously, curly red mane stuck to her shoulders with sweat, she can feel his hot flesh deep  inside her. He lies in the white sheets, his tan skin contrasting, the tattoo of a hog’s head peeking through the hair on his heaving chest; the air is thrumming with lust. Lucius crests with a ragged moan emptying himself into her. He flips her onto the bed and looks into her sky blue eyes, dark with lust and smiles, sliding his fingers into her centre and watching her back arch in ecstasy. He grabs her hips in his rough painted hands and with his mouth, brings her over the edge, ripples of heat flashing through her as she sees the Sun.


She stands at the door, her shoes in her hands and her yellow sundress rumpled. Her red locks are a halo of unruly curls around her face. She smiles at the nearly naked sleeping Lucius, kept decent by a slip of white bed sheet. He looks like a bronze statue as the sun slips through the curtains to ignite his tan skin. The sex worked; her ex now seems like an old memory that left a bad taste in her mouth. Life could now go on, with her being single and studying towards a healthy CGPA. She has her hand on the handle, when Lucius’ voice freezes her,
“Will you come back?”
“No, not really”, she laughs, moving mused hair out of her eyes, “I’m not ready to start and/or continue anything with anyone right now.”
He smiles, a crescent of blinding white in the morning sun.
“You will be back.”, his tone is sure and almost authoritative. She laughs again, but her heart does a little flip.
“Okay! If you say so!” her voice is unnaturally high and her hands are flailing more than normal.
Lucius has gone back to sleep, bronze eyelids quivering.
She slips on her shoes.
Weird. He doesn’t even know where I live.
Mary leaves the house and attempts a cute, long walk of shame to the nearest bus stop. She catches a glimpse of herself in a store window and sees her neck covered in hickeys. She takes a bus back to her tiny apartment.


Something is wrong.

Mary heaves dryly and a sharp pain shoots through her chest.  The roots of her hair are the color of blood, dark with sweat as she rests against the porcelain bowl of the toilet seat, breathing heavily. Her skin is pale and her eyes are a ripe pink; full of terror. She has been on the toilet floor for six hours unable to move. She takes a final heave and blood gushes out, red splattering against the shiny white.
She gasps and her hand goes to her mouth, tears running down her cheeks. She stands up on uneven legs and calls the ambulance.


“You are pregnant. The blood is weird, but it’s probably internal tears from all the dry vomiting” he says.
The world gradually goes hot and the tears start again. Her throat is dry.
“I’m sorry, Mary, but you need to calm down. Just go to sleep, you’ll be better. I’ll be back tomorrow for a scan.  Just call me when you need me.”
His body looks like its a thousand miles away and his voice echoes endlessly. Mary is pretty sure she is having a heart attack. She could not be pregnant. She just could not. She had always protected during sex with James, her ex, and he had been gone about two months before he called, so it wasn’t plausible. Lucius had been seven days ago and it just wasn’t biologically possible even though there hadn’t been protection. She remembered Lucius’ words and realized that she would be returning to his doorstep just eight days after having vigorous unprotected, nearly anonymous sex with him. She giggled to the empty room and drifted into a drugged haze.


She’s having sex in a pig sty. She can feel the wet mud and dung on her back, around her large hairy pigs are silent and watching with black beady eyes. The man above her has the head of a hog, just like the one on Lucius’ chest. The body looks exactly like his too, complete with a tiny scar above his right nipple.
He repeatedly pounds into her.

The pigs are watching.

He starts grunting and a heat begins to well up between her legs, then she begins to scream, though it comes out as low moans because of  her gagged mouth.

The pigs are watching.

Snot drips from his snout onto her bare breasts, sliding down their middle, and causing her to nearly vomit and choke into the gag.

The pigs are watching

The heat is building and his grunts are getting louder.

The pigs are watching.

He comes with a loud open mouthed squeal, head thrown back. The heat between her legs becomes a flame. She dies, muffled screaming, as her flesh burns and ashes float on the stale air.

The pigs are watching.

Mary is woken up from her vivid dream by screaming. It’s loud, shrill and piercing. She realizes she’s the one doing it; her mouth is open as she delivers piercing shrieks into the air. She notices something is different and when she looks down and realizes, everything goes black.


Mary slams the bottle into the door and it shatters sending emerald fragments across the sidewalk. She starts pounding on the wood with her other hand, making the door shiver as loud booms echoes through the house.
It opens suddenly and she falls into Lucius, her weak wrist letting go of her weapon and it rolls down the front stairs.
“Hello, Mary” he says, a sinister glint in his eye as he drags her in and locks the front door.  He moves swiftly back into the kitchen where something is frying and filling the air with a rich, fatty aroma.
Mary gags, as she steps in after him into the kitchen.
“What have you done to me!???” She screams, tearing open her blouse and revealing a belly the size of two basketballs. Buttons clatter across the hardwood floor as she stands there, holding the torn pieces of cloth open.
“Now, now, let’s be civil. I did nothing, only had sex with you to help you get over your evil ex”, he smiles. His teeth are too white.
“How did you know that?” A chill runs across her spine and over her arms. Lucius’ eyes are blood red.
“I know a lot of things, Mary Sherwood”.
“How do you know my name?” Mary’s voice quivers. Her shaking hands drop to her sides and liquid warmth runs down her leg. Whatever is in her stomach kicks hard, she screams in pain. Lucius smiles at her.
“For instance, I know…” he turns back to his pork.
“…that you are going to…” she can’t move when he swings the hot oil-filled pan into the side of her head, knocking her out cold.


The truck bounces down the dusty road, in its open bed is an unconscious Mary. White and gold blouse torn, an angry red welt marks the side of her face, her hair is singed but still shines ruby in the happy yellow sunlight. In the driver’s seat, Lucius is nodding to the motions of the bouncing truck. His shirt is off and his eyes are shielded by large sunglasses.
At the end of the road a large red barn stands, the paint peeling off in large patches, about twenty feet to its right, a little white cottage stands, as Lucius brings the truck to a halt in front of the barn, the door to the house flies open and five more Luciuses come out, walking briskly. They all look exactly like the man at the wheel; same height, same dark hair and stubble, same dark-red eyes and the same hog’s head tattooed onto their left pectorals. Two of them lift Mary off the bed of the truck and walk towards the barn that another two are opening. The barn is full of squealing, grunting pigs. They dump her unceremoniously into the mud.
When they come out, Lucius and the fifth are gone. They run into the house, grunting as they go.


Mary wakes up to darkness, chanting and pain. Six men stand above her, speaking harsh phrases. Her eyes adjust to the darkness as another cramp goes straight through her soul. They are naked.

The pigs are watching.

She looks down and sees she is naked too, covered in dark black mud. Her stomach has grown bigger, too big. The skin has been stretched to translucence and inside she can see a dark form much larger than a baby swimming. The men begin to chant louder, and pain rips through her body as her pelvic bones crack audibly. She screams and feels her throat fill with the dark copper of blood.

The pigs are watching.

The pain is radiating through her nerves, her centre is burning. Something is coming out of her and taking her life with it. Another crack fills the air as the right side of her chest collapses in, her lung fills with liquid and she begins to gurgle. The men chant even louder.

The pigs are watching.

Her vision begins to cloud over and just before life leaves her, she sees a man rise from between her thighs, covered in blood and slime.
It is Lucius.
She can’t scream, but her red hair goes a pure white. She dies with her eyes open, full of fear.

They stop chanting immediately she dies.
They, better known as Legion.
He had cast them out into swine thousands of years ago and into the swine they had stayed, waiting.
Finally, a suitable vessel presented himself to be possessed.

Legion shall never be bested again.
Legion shall not make the same mistake of remaining in one body.
Legion shall propagate; shall divide.

“Be fruitful and multiply” one of them say to the newly born man.

They smile in unison.

The silent pigs go crazy; squealing, grunting, and trampling over each other as they move to devour the pale, broken body of Mary Sherwood.

The End.


I hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I did!
Please, do leave your comments thanks! 🙂


Her tongue slowly slid out of her lips. She flicked them in the air, tasting; waiting. Her lips parted, revealing teeth that shone in the darkness.
She smiled and began singing softly, under her breath.

He sat, bare back hunched. Long, unbound white hair fell across his face, obscuring his visage. His fingers glided hesitantly on the strings of the instrument he carried on his arm. Head cocked, he listened to the sound of her voice. The soft whispering voice that sang in his head.

She sniffed the air, taking in the smell of sand and burnt spices. Her tongue slipped out again, measuring. She opened her eyes and stared out into the darkness, barely illuminated by pinprick glows of flickering flames. She saw nothing.  Eyes filmed over. No sight.

He cleared his throat.
“You shall not be afraid…of the night…”. His voice broke.

“Or of the arrow that fly by day…” she whispered out loud.

A slight wind buffeted the dark robes she was swaddled in, which hid her body frame from view. Only her head was bared.

He smiled and gently plucked his strings. He lived in his world of silence; silence broken by her voice. He plays to her voice.
He’s deaf.

The air thrummed with energy. Her tongue swayed expertly, gathering the energy to her palate, extracting the information she needed.
It was almost time.

His fingers continued their labour of love. They kept picking and strumming even though they knew their owner would never enjoy the fruits of their labour. It soothed him. That was all that mattered to them.
Slender, pale fingers, kept working.

“It’s time” she whispered and he stopped, mid-play.They were apart on a high crag formed by a sand dune. A cool wind blew, as if in affirmation of this statement; its chilly fingers playing tenderly with her flowing mass of dark hair. She steadily walked towards him, unmindful of the sand that tended to give way under one’s foot. He watched her gracefully stand beside him and touch his shoulders. He felt shivers down his back and he inclined his head towards her.

The sound of skin splitting was stolen away by the slowly increasing howl of the wind.
Dark gashes appeared at his back and slowly, his wings revealed themselves. He stood up, great in height, instrument in hand. The paleness of his bared torso glowed in the dark. His hair took on a golden hue and his eyes glowed, a vivid shade of red. His wings, the purest of white and his instrument, the dullest shade of sienna.

Slowly, her dark robes began unfurling themselves, fabric waving noiselessly in the air. The mass of it blocked her equally pale skin from view. Her wings peeked from sheets.
“We ride” she whispered even as the unfurling continued.
He nodded.
Together, they walked to the edge and without hesitation, fell into the waiting arms of darkness.


I watch the faces gathered around the fire. Facial expressions mirror one another.
Yhuda, my older brother looks grimly into the fire, arm slung over the shoulder of his twin brother Iuda.
Tateh’s eyes are closed, eyebrows knitted. That is his thinking face, my Tateh. Little Yochanan is sitted near Tateh, eyes wide, staring hypnotised, into the fire. Mameh and my sisters are trying to get some unleavened bread ready. I can hear Mameh scolding Hephzibah. She’s a clumsy one, our sister.
I clear my throat.
His eyes snap open and turn to me.
“Amram” he said, his way of asking me what ails.
“Why are we doing this?” I say in a voice barely above a whisper.
He coughs, ridding his chest cavity of phlegm and spits into the fire.
The small flames sizzle.
“Moshe Rabbenu says we shall be free people tonight. He says HaShem would deliver us. We have done all that he says. All we have to do is wait.”
I nod, even though I do not really understand.
Yhuda looks at me briefly at throws me a smile. I smile back, uncertain. Earlier, we had killed a lamb with Dod Ishkar’s family. We ate them roasted, with very bitter herbs and hard bread. Mameh had said the bread was made without the raising thing. Forget the word the Mitzrayim call it. We had eaten it in a hurry, as Moshe had told us to do. I had watched as Dod and Papa painted the door frames with the blood of the lamb killed. According to Moshe, the ceremony was to be called Pesach.
Dod had said gruffly that it would keep out Mal’ach Hamavet, when i asked what the blood was going to do.
Mal’ach Hamavet. Death.
That thought disturbs me.
Keep out Death? How? I will not ask Tateh. He is no good at explanation.
I’d ask Yhuda later.
“How will we know when we’re delivered?” I turn to ask Yhuda
He shrugs. “We will know”
Iuda nods at this and repeat the same words.
Tateh nods in approval.
We will know.
We fall back into silence.
I bring my meager belongings Moshe had said we should pack, closer and hug it, eyes open but mind lost in thought.


Land became visible and his eyes could pick out shadows of people who passed, amongst other things.They slowed and smoothly descended at the bank of the Great River.
“Praa” she whispered to him as his wings retracted. Her robes once again moulded around her.
He nodded and together, they walked to do their duty.


Mashuy walked aimlessly, tired. He could not sit and rest.
Guard duty.
There was an increase in the number of guards tonight.
The Praa wanted to make sure Ramoses didn’t organise an assassination on the Royal Son, and then claim it as his ‘god’s work’.
It was his first night guarding the Praa.
He stood beside the door, trying not to lean. He would be whipped severely if seen by the Guard Master.
He allowed his eyes glaze, staring at nothing but the play of shadows.
Suddenly his back arched and he jerked to an upright stance.
The door opened on its own. He glanced at the other guards who stood watch, but they hadn’t moved a muscle.
He stared back at the door and was surprised to see it closed.
He thought his tiredness was getting to him.
He began pacing again.


The demons stared at the two figures that approached, baleful, from where their statues were. The blind woman could not see them but her flickering tongue could taste their sweet, smarmy stench of corruption. Only Bastet and Hathor stood from their crouched positions, glowing in their ornaments of rubies and emeralds. They looked haughtily at the two emissaries, orb-like eyes shining dully in the dim room. They bared the way. The woman walked up to them and as she approached, the two goddesses shrank back. The woman’s hair rose from her back and like a whip, it lashed the demon goddesses away. They whimpered, eyes burning with hatred as they slunk back, failed sentries. They walked into his chamber and stared at his sleeping body, covered in silk. He, being the Royal Son. The first son of Praa.

She walked to his bedside as if with sight and cast her blind gaze on him.
The deaf man walked to the other side and gently fingered the forelock of the sleeping King-to-be, black against his bronze skin.
The deaf man looked at her and feeling her gaze on him, she nodded.
He brought forth his stringed instrument and humming, he began playing. His skin began to glow as the tune he played progressed.
The boy tossed on the bed, as if struggling. His eyes opened and he sat up with a jolt, mouth open in a silent scream.
The musician played his instrument faster, fingers flying over strings.
The boy flopped back on the bed, his writhing causing the bed to quake, bed clothes bunched around his almost naked body. He was fighting a losing battle. His spasms decreasing in intensity. With one final jerk, and a faint cry from his slack lips, his body stilled. Slowly, soul separated from flesh. Sensing the emergence, she stretched out her hand through her robes, gathering the smoke-like Ba that rose. She opened her mouth and threw it.
He stopped playing and stared at the boy, sadly.
“Come. Many more await.” she said.


Anahita opened the door and entered into her house under the cover of darkness. Her father would kill her if he found out she had just come in. She quickly walked to her room, and on second thoughts, suddenly stopped. She hadn’t seen her brother, Amen, since the sun rose. He was recovering from the boils which her father believed was inflicted on him by the accursed Ramose…or Moshe as the Habiru slaves called him.
She tiptoed into his room and poked her head in.
The torch flames had not been doused yet, she noticed angrily. The rustling of sheet drew her eyes to the figure of her father’s first boy on the make shift bed.
Her eyes widened in growing horror as she watched her brother jerk, eyes open, arms splayed to his sides.
She screamed…


…and we all jerk in alarm.
The twins sit up, ears cocked.
Even Mameh stopped her kneading.
She walks over to Tateh and asks him what it is.
Tateh has no idea, I know, but he doesn’t say it.
“Moshe” is all he says. The name has turned into a talisman.
We all trust Moshe.
Again, the scream is repeated, this time, farther away. It is joined by another scream.
And another.
And another.We all stand, unable to hide the alarm anymore.

Yhuda voices what we had all noticed.
“It comes from the Mitzrayim side ” he whispers.
Yochanan looks more afraid  and he clings to Tateh, eyes getting wider.
Tateh disengages himself from him and walks over to Mameh.
He wants to go check what is happening outside.
“Moshe said to stay in. Remember. Mal’ach Hamavet ” she says in a hushed voice.
Tateh sighs and nods.
He motions us to sit back down while Mameh goes back to her little corner. She begins scolding Hephzibah again. It seems she’s crying. Ona, my elder sister shushes her brusquely.
This is going to be a long night.


They walked out of the last building.
“All done” the blind woman whispered, face turned to the sky.
“All done” he replied.
Screams of anguish rent the air but they are oblivious to it.
After all, he is deaf. He cannot hear them.
She is blind, she cannot see them.
Together they walk into the darkness, the emissaries of Death.


There is heavy pounding at the door and we all jump up.
Dod Ishakar’s voice asks for entrance and Yhuda is quick enough to go and open.
Tateh rises too and goes to meet his brother.
“Moshe says to move. We are free.”
I cannot believe it.
I stand, oblivious to the sudden increase in activity around me.
“Amram!” my Mameh says hastily, and I’m freed from the bondage of my reverie. I turn to face her and see she was holding a sack to my face.
“Quick!” Tateh says “If we don’t leave now, we might never leave again!”
The talk of missing our chance galvanizes us into action.
After 430 years of slavery, it seems we are finally free.
Baruch atah Adonai.


Yetsi’at – The Exodus
HaShem – The Name
Tateh- Papa
Mameh- Mama
Mitzrayim- Egypt
Baset/ Haroth- Egyptian goddesses of protection.
Dod- Uncle
Mal’ach Hamavet – Angel of Death
Praa – Pharaoh.
Moshe Rabbenu – Moses, our Teacher
Ramoses- Moses’ real name according to some Egyptologists and  some Scholars.


Originally had two tales in mind but this is a merger of both. This is dedicated to the people of HaShem everywhere in the world, celebrating the feast of Pesach (Passover).
Hope you enjoyed that. You can lie if you didn’t 😀

The Hunger Games?

Hey! Impromptu post! Something that just came to mind as I was on my way to work! If you haven’t read or watched Hunger Games, you probably won’t fully understand this the way I want you to so do me a favour, WATCH IT! (After  you read…or before you read…whatever)

Anyway, ENJOY!


He slid into her, pacing himself, reveling in her languid moans.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to this segment of the Hunger Games event!”

(Crowd cheers)

“This event as we all know, has been going on for quite a while now. Till, date, we have only had 2 winners, emerge from this competition! Today, we shall be having a fresh batch of smerps as they are called, compete for the ultimate price, The Hand of Ova!”

(Crowd cheers louder. Cat-whistles rent the air)

“Oh. This just in. They are getting ready to come in. Ladies and Gentlemen, get ready to be blown! And here they come!! The contestants! A big cheer people!”

(Crowd cheers as the contestants swim into the narrow red tube.)

“We seem to have a huge turn out of contestants today! Let us hear what they have to say! Contestant 1! Let’s start from you. How are you feeling today!”

“Oh I’m ready to go! Flagella’s powered to the max. I know I will win this!”

(Crowd cheers wildly at the confident statement. Contestant 1 strikes a pose, flexing his head.)

“Thank you contestant 1! Let’s go over to Contestant 40! Our last contestant. How confident are you today? Will you survive and do what your predecessors have failed to do in the last three games?”

“Ah yessa. Me gonna win today. Ma momma tole me nota come back if ah lose. Me gonna win even say tis the last ting ah do.”

“Brave! Brave indeed! Though your momma failed to realise that you won’t be coming back if you don’t win as you’ll be dead! HAHAHA! Over to Contestant 15 who is a woman! A stunning one too! What’s your strategy to win honey?”

“I plan on using my charm and amazing beauty to convince the others to let me win”

“Oh smoking! Interesting strategy 15! Too bad you just revealed it so it won’t work would it? HAHAHA!”

(Crowd laughs uproariously)

“Contestant 23! You are dressed weirdly. Won’t these bags hamper your movements as you progress in the games?”

“Oh no. Just watch me. Oh just watch me. He. He. He.”

“Oh interesting chap. Creepy. And that laugh, shivers. It seems the other Contestants are wary of him too! Anyway, enough of the chit-chat. Let’s get the games started! To our contestants, good luck and may the eggs be ever in your favour!”

(Crowd roars as the contestants go to the starting line)

“On your marks. Set. GO!”


(Crowd screams, egging him on)

“And first to get into the Great Wall of Uteru is Contestant 1! He is one to watch out for. Deftly avoiding the obstacles and forging ahead. Close behind him are contestants 3, 6, 12…oh and 13 has overtaken 12. Are they pushing? Nice! This I must say is turning out to be a better game than the last one! The contestants are not giving up!”

(Crowd suddenly start cheering and the commentator turns)

“Oh my Eggs! It’s Contestant 23!! He is getting rid of 12 and 13 as we speak! AMAZE-BALLS!! He has left a trail of destruction behind him! ALL OTHER CONTESTANTS BEHIND ARE DEAD! HOW DID HE DO THIS! WOW! Only four contestants are left on the course! We can see Contestant 1 looking back, trying to access the situation. He is losing the valuable lead he had gotten. Contestant 3 is slowly catching up, though I’m not sure what is really egging him on, the will to win or the threat of destruction from Contestant 23! He and Contestant 1 are in the Fallopi tube!  6 is closely behind and 23 is slowly catching up to 6! Oh! Oh my! 6 DOWN! CONTESTANT 6 IS DOWN! WOW! CONNIVING 23! VERY CONNIVING!”

(Crowd screams in jubilation)

“Wow! Contestant 23 is definitely proving to be the crowd’s favorite! They are baying for blood! Uh oh! What is this? Contestant 23 slips! It seems Contestant 3 had a trap set! Wonderful! keeps getting better! We can hear the crowd groan as their Wonderboy falls. He picks himself up and waved cheerily at the crowd. Oh, he’s riling them up! I think he has a plan!”

(Crowd chanting “23! 23! 23! 23!”)

“And he’s off, full throttle! Contestant 3 has overtaken Contestant 1! Oh he’s closing on to the finish line! We can see the price in view, the magnificent Ova! Will 1 catch up before 3 reaches the last stop or does 23 have another trick up his sleeves for us! Can he stop them fast enough to win?”

(The crowd still chanting, start pointing)

“Oh dear! 23 has stopped! I think this is the trick we’ve all been waiting for! This is going to be IT! OH! HE DROPS HIS BAG AND BRINGS OUT A CONTRAPTION! WHAT IS THIS? A MODIFIED SLING? He peers into a lens and clicks!”

(Crowd goes crazy)


(Increased yell of “23!” continues)

“And the crowd is loving it! Look at him go! Strutting to the finish line! He stops and waves at the crowd and they’re going crazy! Fantastic! I must say Contestant 23 has been a joy to watch and his devotion to his fans is just top-notch! Wo..”

(Someone in the crowd screams)

“Oh dear! OH MY PRECIOUS EGGS! Unbelievable! The most unbelievable thing just happened! CONTESTANT 23 IS OUT! I REPEAT, HE IS OUT! WE HAVE NO WINNER!!!”

(Crowd boos in disappointment)

“Uh oh the crowd is not happy! Let me explain what just happened here. It seemed Contestant 3 had not died yet! He was able to shoot something at Contestant 23 before he crossed the Finish line! Amaze-balls! And Contestant 3 died immediately after! He must have used up his last energy to fire that bolt of energy! This is what the games are about! This is why we are here! This is the HUNGER GAMES!!!”

(Crowd grudgingly claps, and soon, the applause spreads across the gallery)

“This has been an amazing experience here at the Reproductive Centre! For the fourth time, we have no winner but this undeniably has been the best game so far! How can we forget Contestant 23!”

(Crowd screams at the mention of Contestant 23)

“Ah! Wonderful crowd. Their posthumous support for Contestant 23 has been so great! Thank you very much for tuning in today! I shall be here once again, for the next round of Hunger Games. My name’s Fundus and it has been a pleasure being here today! Thank you once again and GOOD NIGHT!”

(Crowd cheers and slowly, disperses)


She sighed in satisfaction.
“Think we probably made another baby?” she whispered
He drew her close and kissed her. “I bet we did”
She smiled and nodded.
“Andy and Jamie need a new sister!”
He chuckled “Or another brother!”
“Bah! Not another boy! I need a mini me”

They laughed and cuddled, and later slept.
No baby was conceived that night.
No winner at the Hunger Games.



*Gets back to work, listening to the BOSS nag*

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