Birth

Doctor Volodimiir Jethro Frances III stood alone on the balcony. Above, a half moon shone as birds dived and rolled across the darkening sky.
Behind him, the party continued. The house was full of those invited. The guests had arrived and were making themselves comfortable with one another. Handshakes, kisses on cheeks, smiles and winks.
Jethro glanced again at the birds tumbling into one another, and as they fell into a flowing pattern his thoughts once again turned to his wife.
He knew she too glided throughout the house, speaking to each of the guests, showing an interest in every person she talked with.
His face brightened at the thought of her. Her long dark hair, light brown eyes, sleek tanned body. She remained the most beautiful woman in the world to him.
Yet, she had not been well the past few weeks. Her heart had been broken by the loss of the children. Jethro had told her they were fine, that moving out didn't mean life was over. Still, nothing would comfort her, and tonight as the party continued, unaware of her pain, he felt at a loss. For the first time he had failed to make his wife happy. In all the years as man and wife, he felt helpless.

"Jethro, my boy, what are you doing out here all alone!" a resounding voice echoed behind him. He turned to face the speaker.
"Ah, Martin, how are you this evening?" he asked.
"Jethro," said the doctor visibly taken aback, "pardon me for saying, but you don't look well my friend."
"Oh," Jethro smiled, "I'm fine Martin. Just tired." Jethro lowered his head slightly.
"I think you should come and see me, Jethro. It's been months since you've been to my surgery. Remember what Old Luca said, "Just because you're doctors', doesn't mean you're protected from sickness.'"
"If you have any respect for your profession you will consult a colleague as often as you recommend a patient to return." Jethro continued.
"Precisely!" Martin said. "Come and see me tomorrow, Jethro. OK?"
"Very well," replied Jethro, nodding his head.
"Now," Martin smiled, "come and get a nice glass of red wine, doctors orders. You're wife is asking for you."

Jethro sat with his legs dangling on the edge of the elevated bed as Martin listened to his heartbeat. He stared at Martin's large oak desk. Beside his telephone a small model skeleton hung on a wooden peg like a limp puppet. Within the rib cage were visible tiny plastic innards. Between the red bulbous liver and sausage-like intestines he could see the atrium of the heart, its bright red and blue veins leading to the right ventricle.
Martin was in his middle forties yet looked considerably younger. His face was tanned and handsome and his hair was blonde and looked healthy. His nose was slightly crooked and seemed a little too small for his face.
After testing Jethro's blood pressure, Martin returned to his desk and motioned for Jethro to sit in front. He looked at Jethro quizzically.
"Well, I've performed all the standard tests. And you're in perfect health."
"I know, I told you I was just tired," Jethro said.
"So, tell me old friend what is it that's weighing so heavily on your shoulders?"
Jethro paused for sometime before answering.
"My wife, she's devastated over the children leaving. She can't stop thinking about it. All day she cries," Jethro lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
"But, she seemed fine last night at the party," Martin removed the stethoscope from his neck and carefully placed it on the desk.
"She was trying to be strong. Did you see how she hung from me all night? It's like she can't live without me being away for more than a few minutes!"
"Martin, I fear she's suicidal! I'm scared she' s going to do something stupid!" Jethro lowered his head once again and wiped his eyes of the tears beginning to form.
Martin rose from his chair slowly, walked around the desk, and stood behind Jethro. He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.
"I know how to solve your problem," he whispered, "I know how to make her smile once again."
Martin returned to his desk, coming full circle, and withdrew a small packet of coloured tablets from his top drawer.
"Oh no!" Jethro put his palm to his forehead. "Not pills! She won't be the same person!"
"Jethro," said Martin, "these are no ordinary tablets."
"These - at present - have no familiar name, as the geneticist's who designed them have not seen any need to include them on the mass market. And rightly so…" Martin examined the clear bag in his hand and then looked deeply into Jethro's eyes.
"Geneticists? Why? W-what are they making tablets for?" asked Jethro.
"Well, as I said, they're not just tablets. Please, Jethro, let me explain." Martin sat down once again and shifted in his chair for comfort.
"In layman's terms, these tablets will reverse the ageing process to such a degree that if ingested a person will revert to the embryonic state."
Jethro's mouth hung agape but Martin continued.
"The primary reason for the inception of such a product is to reduce the population of inmates currently incarcerated. In reducing them to the embryonic stage, it is possible to re-grow them into healthy and moral citizens. Thus, the evil of the world would be destroyed forever."
"However, the greatest attraction is the concept of eternal life. With these tablets, it is now within our reach. Any person, at any age, can reduce themselves to their embryonic state to be re-grown in the year of their choice. And, any human with medical, physical, or mental deficiencies can be re-grown at a time suitable to cure such deformities for re-birth."
"Now Jethro, if this product were to go to the mass market it would not be available to the general public. There's that underlying "playing God" status that it infers, you know?
However, you have been a close friend for many years, as has Jeanne. I have only your happiness in mind.
Jethro nodded and closed his mouth.
"The inherent problem with the tablets," Martin leaned back in his seat, "is that they must be adapted to certain types of people. For example, if one were to take the tablet that has not been fabricated for them, certain undesirable effects may occur."
"I know it sounds ridiculous, but many tests have been performed." Martin concluded.
"Performed on what?" asked Jethro.
"Well, only rats and mice at present," said Martin.
"And, you want me to give these to my wife!" Jethro's eyes widened.
"No, no. I want you to give them to your children!"




* * *

Upon entering the house, Jeanne ran to him. Streams of tears flowed down her face, yet a smile played on her lips. Jethro dropped the keys he held and opened his arms to her.
"Darling, oh, honey, what's..."
"Oh Jethro, I have such wonderful news!" she pressed herself against his chest, held him tightly and wept.
"What is it, Honey? Tell me darling!", Jethro stroked her hair.
Jeanne raised her head. Her brown eyes were swollen and puffy.
"The children are coming home!" she smiled.
"Coming home?" asked Jethro.
Jeanne let go and whispered, "Yes! They're all coming to dinner this weekend. Maybe they'll stay! I'm sure we can convince them."
"Jeanne, I don't....", he stopped suddenly as she began to frown. He couldn't continue; couldn't deprive her of hope.
He smiled widely and wiped her wet cheeks with his thumb.
"Well, we had better get ready to welcome them home!" he said excitedly.
Jeanne kissed him forcefully on the lips and skipped into the kitchen.
Jethro lowered his head, put his hand to his face and touched his breast where the inside pocket of his jacket held the tablets.

"Well, how do I look?", Jeanne stood on the stairs to second floor. Her left hand lay comfortably on the banister as her other rested on her hip. She wore a long red velvet dress, far too impressive for such an occasion.
A high pitched buzz echoed down the hallway.
"Oh," Jeanne clapped her hands, "the beef is ready!"
She sashayed down the steps, holding the dress before her so not trip. As she walked past Jethro, she stopped to kiss his cheek and quickly wiped away the lipstick that remained. She smiled broadly as she continued down the hall. Her high heels clicked on the pine-tiled floor as she continued down the hallway that led to the kitchen.

* * *

The youngest of their children - Daniel - arrived. He knocked loudly on the door, in his usual way: tapity tap tap tap.
Jeanne ran to the door and threw it open before her.
"Danny! Oh honey! How are you?" she cooed, held out her hand and guided her son into the foyer.
"I'm great mum, how are you?" he asked as he walked through the door, "You look great!"
Jethro silently entered from the living area.
"Dad!" cried Daniel. He walked to his father and held out his hand.
Jethro shook it hard in his and kissed his son on the cheek.
"How are you, son?" he asked as Jeanne came up beside them.
"I'm great, really great!" he beamed.
He was a handsome man, slim in build, short wavy brown hair, with blue eyes showing an awareness and great intellect. Still, he was also very childlike and whimsical. He was undertaking his Doctorate at Oxford University and had been living on campus for over a year now. Although he was the highest in his class he lacked the seriousness associated with such an important position. However, Jethro believed that great doctors required a certain amount of wit if only to bring a smile to the face of their patients. Daniel had the healing power of laughter and Jethro felt that it would aid him in the future.
"How's University?" Jethro asked.
"Hard, but I'm coping. Becoming a doctor is a lot more complex than I first thought."
"Are you enjoying it though, son? Are you happy?" asked Jethro.
"Hey!" Daniel turned to each of his parents smiling, "do I look like I'm happy!"
Jethro smiled with Jeanne and said, "I'd say 'yes' to that! Now, come and sit down, and tell me more about your life away from us."
Both father and son drifted into the living room, failing to notice Jeanne trying desperately to hold back the tears and block out the words running through her mind: Your life away from us. Your life away. Away from us. Away… Away.

Minutes later another knock sounded at the door: a regular knock in comparison to Daniel's.
"I'll get this," said Daniel as he stood, "It sounds like Jonah."
"Very well, I'll go and see to your mother," said Jethro.
Daniel opened the door to reveal a duplicate of himself. Jonah's matching smile beamed widely at his twin brother.
"Hey Bro! How are you?" Jonah held out his hand to be shaken and Daniel quickly took it.
"Excellent! Come on in." he said.
"Where's mum and dad?" asked Jonah as he removed his coat and hung it on the rack.
"They're both in the kitchen cooking the food," he replied.
"Ah, I better leave them alone then," said Jonah, as a stifled cry escaped from the kitchen.
Johah smiled, "You know how they are when they're cooking together!"
"Yeah, two peas in a pod couldn't come closer!" said Daniel.
Jonah laughed quietly, put his arm around his brother's shoulder and whispered, "And, it will give me more time to catch up with my little brother!"
"Yeah, older by a whole six and half minutes!" Daniel laughed at their running joke.
They both walked into the living room, and sunk into the black leather sofa.

* * *

Jethro held Jeanne tightly in his arms. She sobbed quietly, clearly unable to find the energy for anything louder. Blood dripped from her wrist to the marble tiled floor.
The bloody knife lay in the sink from where he had knocked it from her hands as she chopped at her wrist.
She cried her feelings into his chest. The loss of her children, her lack of self worth, the pain of loneliness, and the final devastating end of anything akin to motherhood.
All Jethro could do was hold her, stroke her hair and whisper soothingly. Then he heard the droplets of blood splashing on the marble and resigned himself to telling her about the tablets.
"I know how to return to the life we once had, when the children were young, and you were the perfect mother," he whispered in her ear.
"W-what?" Jeanne's sobbing subsided a little.
"I can make it the way it was. From their birth, potty training, through their schooling, and, and…" he stumbled at his last thoughts. Would she ever get used to the loss of their children? Or, would they be apart of a continuous revolution of life, never to grow old? Jeanne let go of him, stepped back and looked him in the eyes. Anger bubbled within her as she glared at Jethro.
"What the Hell do you mean?" she asked.
"Shhh, keep your voice down!" he whispered, before cutting her off and continuing.
"Listen to me, darling, please. What I say is true. I went to see Martin today. I told him you weren't well!"
Jeanne lowered her head, sobbed and wiped her face with her bloodied arm. The blood mixed with her tears and streaked her face.
Jethro hurriedly removed the tablets and glanced at Jeanne's wrist. There was too much blood to see the extent of the wound.
"These tablets," he said, "can return the human biology to its first incarnation. Namely, a foetus!" Jethro shook the pills in his hand.
Jeanne opened her mouth to speak.
"No! Don't say anything. Just trust me. All we need to do is put these tablets in the food of the children, being careful not to mix them, and wait. Apparently, it happens within a few minutes. The cells physically mutate, in reverse! When the process is complete all that remains is the foetus."
Jeanne stared wide-eyed, her mouth hung agape. The blood poured down her hand and dripped to the floor.
"And then what?" she croaked, lowering her head. Jethro knew this was her way of believing. Her attention was captured.
"The tablets contain an enzyme that encases the foetus in a protective sheath. We then have five minutes to impregnate the foetus manually into the womb."
"And you can do that? I'd only want you to do that!"
"Of course," said Jethro, before continuing, "and, growth begins that very moment!" he said.
"And the children? Do they remember?" she asked.
"I-I don't know, it's difficult to say," Jethro half-smiled.
"But, the children will be inside me again? I can give birth to them again?"
"Yes," he said.
She beamed, "All four of them will be in my womb?"
Jethro nodded, "I've spoken to Martin about that. He said that if you carry the children for the majority of the term, he could perform a Caesarean and manually incubate them until they're ready."
"Is that safe?" she asked.
"Oh yes, perfectly safe. This happens all the time! Technology has changed throughout the years, darling." Jethro smiled broadly, catching himself off guard.
He found himself wanting this too. It would be like living again, turning back time. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"And the children won't be hurt?" she asked.
"No, but we must follow the directions from Martin."
"And you will be re-inserting the foetus'?" asked Jeanne.
"Of course," Jethro said, "Of course," He touched her stained cheek.
"Now, let's get you cleaned up!" he whispered excitedly.
Jeanne smiled, and pulled him close to her, being sure to turn her bloodied face away from his jacket.

* * *

Just as the last droplets of blood had been wiped away, and a bandage wrapped around Jeanne's wrist, their remaining two children entered the kitchen.
"Oh, my darlings!" cried Jeanne as she hurried to her only daughter, Kennidy.
She was the spitting image of Jeanne, petite with long dark wavy hair and a pretty face. Her smile was a little too wide and her teeth were large, though not protruding, or bucked. On the contrary, her smile was generous, and soothing to all those who knew her. Kennidy was a journalist for 'The Times', and quickly becoming as reputable as the other great journalists before her. She had recently written a prize-winning piece on the Foot and Mouth outbreak of Europe. This was the highlight of the newspaper editorials.
"Hello, my boy!" Jethro held out his hand to the tall, solid looking man before him. His oldest son, Dieter had become one of the most respected lawyers' in London. His face was not too dissimilar from Jethro's - strong cheekbones, a small upturned nose, longish jaw, and dark eyes. Though Jethro had been bald from the age of twenty-two, Dieter's hair was short and dark with only a little grey at the temples. His look was distinguished and one of high power and influence.
Jethro felt pride swell within him.
"Hi dad!" said Dieter as he grabbed his father's hand and pulled him close.
"How, are you darling?" asked Jeanne as she looked deeply into Kennidy's blue eyes.
"I'm great mum! You look wonderful!" returned Kennidy.
"OK, that's enough of the mushy stuff! Where my daughter?" joked Jethro as he looked blankly around the room.
"I'm here daddy!" whispered Kennidy as she let go of her mothers hands and hugged her father.
"Hi mum," said Dieter as he took her in his arms.
"Hello, honey," she whispered as she held him.
Jeanne turned to Jethro, "Darling, go and get the kids a drink, then come back and help with dishing up."
"No, problem," said Jethro smiling as he put his arms around Dieter and Kennidy and walked them into the living room.

* * *

Upon re-entering the kitchen, Jeanne was dishing up the peas and carrots. She turned quickly toward Jethro.
"Do you have the tablets?" she asked hurriedly.
"Yes," Jethro pulled out the plastic bag from his inside jacket pocket.
"Are you ready? Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked as he look deeply into her eyes.
Without a pause Jeanne replied, "Yes."
Jethro stood above the four plates. He opened the small clear plastic bag and removed a red, blue, green, and white tablet.
Carefully he placed the red tablet onto the plate on the far left. It sat in the bed of potatoes and peas for several seconds before melting seamlessly into the food. Not a trace remained.
He did the same with the others, being sure not to accidentally drop two pills in together: to follow the rules.
Simultaneously, the door to the kitchen opened and the telephone rang.
Kennidy, who had just entered, removed the telephone from its cradle beside the door of the Kitchen.
"Hello?" she spoke into the receiver.
"Yes, of course, hold on a second," she said.
She turned to Jethro, "It's for you dad."
"Jethro took the cordless telephone from Kennidy, and smiled, "Thank you, darling."
"Mum, is their anything I can do?" asked Kennidy.
"Hello?" he spoke into the receiver.
Jeanne picked up two plates from the counter and passed them to Kennidy.
"Jethro, its Martin. How are you?"
"You can take these to the dinner table," said Jeanne, "The one on the left is Daniel's and the one on the right is Jonah's."
Jethro turned to his wife and daughter, covered the handset with his hand and whispered, "Excuse me, I've got to take this upstairs."
As Kennidy took hold of the plates and began to walk towards the entrance to the dining room, Jeanne said:
"Be sure not to mix them up; Jonah has peas on his plate, and Daniel doesn't."

As Jethro walked up the steps to the second floor he could hear plates touching the dining table.
He spoke quietly into the telephone, "Martin, we're going to use the pills."
"You are?" Martin asked, "I thought you didn't like the idea?"
"Yes, well, I changed my mind," said Jethro as he closed the bedroom door shut behind him.
"When? When are you going to use them?" asked Martin.
"Tonight; we're going to give them to the kids."
"The kids know?" Martin was shocked.
"No, no, we're going t…" Jethro had half finished his sentence when Jeanne burst into the bedroom.
"It's done, they're eating!" she said.
"Come down, quickly, come down," she turned and bounded down the steps.
"Jethro? Jethro? Listen to me before you go! Remember the rules! The rules, Jethro! Don't mix the pills. Don't mix the p…"
"OK, Martin, I've got to go now…"
"Jethro! Don't mix the…"
Jethro pushed the little red button on the phone and dropped the handset on the bed.

* * *

"Oh, I don't like peas!" said Daniel under his breath.
"I know, and I've not got any!" answered Jonah.
"Swap plates?" asked Daniel.
"No, just move the peas over from yours to mine,"
Kennidy smiled and shook her head.
"I think you should all stop talking and start eating!" said Dieter as he playfully grabbed a carrot from Kennidy's plate.
"Hey! Get off you!" she laughed as she swiped a small roast potato from his..
Jethro and Jeanne entered the room silently from the foyer. Without a word or an upward glance they sank into their seats and began to eat.
"Mum, are you OK?" asked Kennidy. She placed her knife and fork on the plate before her.
"No! No. I'm fine. Keep eating honey," replied Jeanne as she looked around the table at the children. Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind. Something looks odd here.
"How's the food?" asked Jethro
"Excellent!" said Daniel.
"Yes, very nice," said Dieter.
"The best! I've really missed your home cooking," said Kennidy with a croak in her voice.
"Same, s-same h-here," Jonah dropped his fork and put a shaking hand to his face.
Daniel fell into his plate of food as Kennidy screamed and Dieter coughed a green mucus-like substance onto the table.
Just then Jeanne realised what her strange feeling meant.
Kennidy and Dieter had swapped seats!

* * *

Daniel lay face first in his plate of food, convulsing. Jethro jumped up hurriedly and pulled Daniel's face from the plate. With his back to the seat his eyes bulged, and he began to convulse.
Dieter sat upright. Foam flowed down his chin like white lava. Red and blue veins in his temples bulged.
Kennidy's pupils were dilated and filled with blood. Her blue and swollen tongue was lolling out of her mouth. Saliva dripped onto the plate below her.
Suddenly, the same white foam that flowed from Dieter's mouth began to spew from Daniel's.
The froth shot onto the table and towards Jeanne. Swiftly, she stood up from her chair, knocking it over behind her.
And then the screaming began.
First Jeanne, then each of the children in unison.
Jethro ran to his wife and held her tightly.
Surely, these sounds could not come from human beings? The shrill, wailing, ear splitting screams from the children sounded like a mix of a wolf's howl and the call of a whale. As the cries reached their pinnacle, Jethro and Jeanne covered their ears and squeezed shut their eyes.
Yet, as suddenly as the piercing screams commenced, so they ceased.
The children sat erect in their chairs as if a pole ran through their backs. Their blood filled eyes stared into space as the white foam sputtered and bubbled from their mouths.
Jethro and Jeanne let go of their heads and stared back at their children in their nightmarish trance.
Slowly, their skin darkened to grey and their bodies shrivelled as if the ageing process was moving forward rather than back. Jethro and Jeanne watched helplessly as their children's arms and legs shortened and their heads shrank into their torsos. In a matter of minutes they were reduced to prune-like pupae and floating within could be seen a small version of themselves, still shrinking and curling forward in the foetal position.
Soon, the pods had shrunk to the size of a peanut and sat, covered in brown sticky fluid on the chairs where the children had been.
Jethro and Jeanne stared at the empty seats before them. Silence, until:
"Well, we need to get them inside you," said Jethro with his head lowered.
Jeanne was shaking her head, "No, no, I can't."
"You have to! Or the children will die!" he shouted.
Jeanne's face was covered in tears, and her eyes were swollen. She fell to the floor and sobbed.
Jethro knelt down beside her and stroked her head.
"We only have a few minutes darling, before it's too late. What do you want to do?" he asked.
Jeanne paused between the sobs racking her slight frame, and whispered, "Put them in. Do it."



* * *

Jeanne lay back on the couch, her panties removed and lying on the floor while Jethro picked up each foetus with the rubber gloves he wore. As he held them gently he could see them pulsing, squirming, seeming to breathe.
He knelt down beside Jeanne, placed three pods in his right hand as he opened her labia with the other and moved to insert the foetus.
Like a black heart the pod began to throb and palpitate in his hand. As he squeezed tighter for a better grip, several sinuous blood encrusted tendrils shot out towards Jeanne's opening. Four of them snagged her thighs and pried them apart as a single tendril with a snake-like head and black teeth slithered into Jeanne's womb.
She screamed like never before as the tendril entered her. Jethro moved to tear it out, but the remaining three pods in his hand suddenly came to life. Like the other, they shot out bloody tendrils. Several encircled Jeanne's waist as another two snarled around both their necks. Jeanne was screaming horribly, but Jethro was pushed back, his knees bent below him and creaking under pressure. Whichever direction he moved the tendril counteracted. There was nothing he could do.
Like scarabs the pods half crawled half dragged themselves inside Jeanne.
And, within a minute and a half, the ordeal was over and all was quiet in the house.






Twenty years later:

Jeanne withdrew into herself throughout the nine months of pregnancy. On occasions she considered abortion, as her fear was now greater than it had ever been.
She was on more anti-depressive drugs than ever and now Jethro worried not only about his wife, but the birth of the children. All he could do was wait, and hope.
Jethro told Martin everything was fine, that he and Jeanne were looking forward to the re-birth. But, throughout the pregnancy, he refused to bring Jeanne in for examination. If Martin found out that the tablets had been mixed, there was no telling what he would do.
After seven months, Martin found that Jeanne's blood pressure was extremely low and the caesarean section was performed.
To begin with, there were no noticeable differences in the children. Like new-borns, they cried at night, soiled their nappies, and burped white vomit down Jethro's back. For awhile both Jethro and Jeanne felt there fears were unfounded.
But, as time would tell, the truth was very different
The first thing they noticed was the anger of each child. From an early age they had to keep them in separate cots, and later rooms, to stop them beating one another.
They also noticed that although each child was born on the same day, the oldest two - Kennidy and Deiter - were growing at a faster rate than Jonah and Daniel, the twins.
Jethro assumed that by the time twenty years had passed they would chemically be the same age they were in their first life.
By the time Kennidy had reached twenty - which coincided with Jethro's 60th birthday - the children were both a long time out of home, for various reasons.
Deiter was held in a maximum-security prison for child rape. Kennidy, though living at home, was awaiting her hearing upon being deported from Singapore for drug running, murder, and prostitution. Jonah became the 'Midland Demon', terrorising the midland highroads. He eviscerated his victims with a crowbar before cracking open their chests and removing the internal organs that he placed neatly beside the corpse in the same position they were inside the body. After being the first person in Britain, in nearly 200 years to be hanged to death, he lay in the cold, cold earth.
Daniel remained in the Sussex mental ward for starting the Great London fire. Over 300 people burned to death, trapped in buildings dotted throughout the city. He stares into space, a hideously scarred monster, in the lower dungeon-like rooms of the mental hospital. On a walk around the sanatorium, accompanied by his doctors, he found a stick that he managed to smuggle into his cell. In the twilight he found a way to quiet his raging pyromania by setting fire to his room.
Now, Jeanne sat in a wheelchair, staring into space. She had not spoken in nearly five years. For a long time she tried desperately to kill herself, a thought which Jethro also considered. Yet, after slicing her wrists in the bathtub and the loss of such a large amount of blood, her brain was deprived of oxygen for too long. She is a vegetable, staring into an empty realm of her broken mind and heart.
Throughout the years the tablets were hidden in an old box in the attic. Only now, two decades later did Jethro hold them in his hand. Tears welled in his eyes.
He stared down at the piece of paper in his left hand; a letter from himself to the Government; A confession of sorts. An attempt at stopping the authorities from putting these tablets on the mass market.
Jethro wrapped the letter around the bottle of tablets and placed it on the chest of drawers. As he turned to leave the bedroom, he wiped dry his eyes.


* * *

She picked up the bottle of tablets, slipped the letter into her pocket and walked into the spare room.
Jeanne sat in her wheelchair staring through the window. Jethro placed her there so the sun could warm her face. A drip hung from a stand attached to the right handle of the chair. She no longer ate solid food.
Kennidy shook the bottle of tablets and sang, "Mummy, don't forget to take your pills!"
Moments later she made her way to the kitchen, poured a tall glass of water and placed a red tablet into the glass.
"Dad," she called, "would you like drink?"
"From the living room he returned, "Yes please; a nice glass of water would be nice."
"Ahhhh, like father like daughter," she whispered.


* * *

9 months later:
London's Central Maternity ward.
"That's it honey, push!" The large nurse held the woman's hand, a wiped her forehead with a damp cloth.
"Push!" said the doctor who leaned with bent knees toward her opening.
She clenched her teeth, breathing short sharp gusts of air. Shh, shh, shh, shh.
"You're nearly their, I see a-a-a head?" the doctor looked questioningly at the plump nurse. Suddenly, blood splattered the doctors face, and ran down his gown.
"Ugh!" he jumped backwards, knocking over the medical instruments on a tray. The nurse hurriedly let go of the woman's hand and stepped back to witness a hand stretching itself from the opening of the woman, a bloody arm reached out, it's talon-like fingers opening and closing; clutching at the air. It scratched at the thighs of the woman, attempting to drag itself out from inside her. It grunted like a rabid animal.
The doctor and nurse stood horrified, staring at the hand, and arm.
And then the woman began to laugh. At first just a chuckle that grew and grew, into an insane guffaw.
The woman leaned forward, held the hand in her own and pulled it out further. A bald bloodied head appeared. It moaned and cried like dead dog, grunting, heaving. And, then a second arm. This one shorter, covered with hair, and encrusted in blood. And then another hand, similar, and another, like the one before. The talons tearing at the woman's thighs, her laughing, and screaming all in one. And the second head, screaming too, like a bat, and between those screams, growls, and grunts, hisses. This one was half covered in hair and reptilian skin. A snakes tongue darted out of the mouth and licked the blood pouring out of the woman.
"Welcome home mummy! Welcome home Daddy!" the woman screamed.
The nurse fainted, and the doctor turned and ran. The laughter and screams of the monster echoed down the corridor after him.


The End