Nicolette rubbed her hands along her naked belly and knew her barren insides held no place for new souls. Her eyes peered into the mirror. Not to view her meager shell, but to converse with the only soul her body would hold: her own. There existed a question she must both ask and answer. Something dubious and unknown. Possibly dangerous. The doctor who gave her the news explained there was a way, though she may not like it.
As time fell short she realized the debate was only an illusion. Only one choice existed. She’d do what her doctor suggested. Nicolette never believed in alternative medicine, but her want for motherhood not only sent her heart to dark places, but her body as well.
The crumpled address in her pocket led her to an old brick structure, what might have been a factory back when they were a thriving industry. Doubt sunk into heavy feet as she approached a steel door. Her body wanted to hesitate as she reached for the handle, but she knew she’d go through with it anyway.
Beyond sat a makeshift operating table in an otherwise dark open space. A few stand-up curtains lined the back side of it. A construction lamp lit the area. One man stood in the light, both hands at his sides, unmoving, waiting. Nicolette held her breath as she approached. The man motioned his hands toward the workspace without a word.
Her body supine on the metal table, she focused on the dark above. She projected herself into it, a void where there was no pain, no fear, no sorrow.
The procedure felt like nothing more than a moment; a strange dream shrouded in fogged sounds and colors. When she sat upright she watched the doctor remove his gloves. They were covered in inky, black fluid. He tossed them into a waste bin and took leave into the darkness of the old factory.
Nicolette did the only thing she could. She went home.
When she looked into the mirror by the light of the morning sun, her once empty place grew and writhed with life. Nicolette rubbed her hands along her naked belly and knew by the three fingered hand pressed against hers, that what lived there wasn’t human.
∼ Lee Andrew Forman
© Copyright Lee Andrew Forman. All Rights Reserved.
Pen of the Damned 
Desperation leads us down some strange streets…
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Good one, scary!
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Reblogged this on Lee Andrew Forman and commented:
My latest flash fiction is up on Pen of the Damned! ‘Insemination’
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A graceful approach to a sensitive subject that turns a mother’s love into what will undoubtedly be a horror of epic proportions! Well done, Lee – the minimal use of description leaves the outcome up to the reader; minus the three fingered hand, of course. Love the idea and execution of this one, sir!
😀
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Yes, much appreciate the brevity — true terror doesn’t work well in large doses. To think that this woman has 9 (or however long the creature’s gestation period is) to wait –will she dare love it? BTW I was reminded of E.T. with three fingers but only as totally unrelated in all respects! Good one, Lee!
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