By Nat Whilk
©2011 Glass Onion Productions
The window was open and nothing was coming in. Laura moaned as she lay breathing unevenly. Sweat beads on her forehead stood like rain drops on a windowpane. The sky was orange. The sun was dying once again, sinking into the rusty cans. Her stomach was swollen with her legs bent and spread. Jim sat facing her vagina watching it palpitate. She held her breath and pushed downward trying to get it to come. Water shot forward, the blood trickled onto the couch. Slowly it began to ooze out. Jim could see the fine, silky hair as it began to form in front of him. Laura screamed. It was coming. Jim leaned forward and grasped the head and pulled slowly. Yes, it was coming. Jim sat back. The shoulders emerged, then the abdomen. The rest slipped out onto the couch. Laura sighed, taking a deep breath. Jim smiled, “It’s a boy. See?”, while he pointed to the child’s penis. He tied the cord and severed it. He then carried the child into the kitchen and placed it on the table. The child made no sound. He pulled a long, wide blade from the drawer. He turned, standing over the child. He raised the knife above his head and brought it down across the child’s throat. The child made no sound amidst the blood and steel. Jim then cut the child into small pieces and listened as the disposal sucked the flesh clean of life. He walked into where Laura still lay and picked up the bloody placenta and carried it to the bedroom placing it on the bed. The afterbirth lay motionless. Jim went to Laura and helped her to stand. With Laura leaning on Jim, they walked into the bedroom where the placenta lay. Jim moved a chair for Laura to sit on. They both sat down and stared at the placenta. Waiting.
