Mightier than a pen?

I believe I’ve just murdered my publisher with a pen. It is my favorite pen too, a sturdy little thing, polished ivory. Imagine the scene, his neck quivering with the pen 4 inches deep into his windpipe. The blood flowing down the embroidery following the redness following the path of least resistance, erupting from the fountain tip, and spreading– like the flooding of a river delta– all down his satin shirt.


I put that shirt on his back. He was a no name publisher printing pulp fiction and pornography to get by. I was an up and coming star (at least I knew I was…) and I took him under my wing. With my soaring use of prose I crafted stories of such uplifting nature that I almost ascended into the heights of a bestselling author. Little did Clarke know that I am more snake than bird and would strike with a vengeance if he ever dared cross me.

Which of course as you can probably tell by the scene I was previously describing that this was a self fulfilling prophecy. Anyway I got distracted by the satin shirt which I bought him for his 30th birthday (a dismal affair). Maybe I’m so focused on the shirt because it is a fundamental metaphor that symbolizes our tumultuous relationship. I bought the shirt so it was my right ruin it if I pleased, by that principle I brought Clarke up with all my success so it follows that it is also my right to bring him down…

Damn! Sidelined again by my wayward fancies. Back to the murder at hand.

It was glorious in all it’s small motions and subtle sounds that made up the scene. I made an effort to memorize each individual moment like the frames on a film reel. And each individual cross section is as glorious and telling of the human spirit as Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa.

His screams for help and/or mercy came out a sickening gurgle as choked while trying to breath through his rupturing jugular. But for all I cared it could have been Beethoven’s 9th with the euphoria I was experiencing. The adrenaline pumping through both our veins separated us from the rest of the world , as if in slow motion every detail pulsed. Both of us had never truly been more alive than in this moment. It all went beyond the laws of science and society but like a cannon shoot us into the realm of myth and legend, we took our respective archetypes. I was the king, and the man in command of the situation, meanwhile he took the role of the woman and the slave, being penetrated.

All homosexual themes aside this moment was eternal perhaps the entire universe had been a crescendo leading up to this final note when I would watch the life leave from his beady little eyes.

It was coming I could feel the tension relax from Clarke’s muscles as he starting collapsing to the floor. He looked like he wanted to say some last words so I quickly placed a single finger on his lips, there was no needed for some imbecile utterance to run the climax.

Still in this transient state I could almost exact the moment his soul left his body. But before we reached the triumphant summit, higher than Everest or Kilimanjaro, but then tragedy struck.

A moist flatulence erupted, the sound I could only describe as a shart– a shit fart. The smell was of eggs and cowardice, the man had emptied his bowels out of fear.

You fucking cunt.

I exclaimed as I was transported back into reality with all of its absurdities, the lack of purpose hit me like a lukewarm tidal-wave of piss- bitterly.

It has all been for nought… and I would have left the house completely unsatisfied had I not found Clarke’s designer poodle to entertain me until my airport shuttle got here. The little rat didn’t last long, it succumbed to the torture long before the taxi arrived- but at least it didn’t fucking shit itself.

Gut Brother

I was eaten in the womb. I hope you found my taste adequate brother. I barely had began life when I was absorbed by my own flesh and blood.

I sometimes wonder what you felt as you did it.
Was it guilt?
Or just the drowsy contentment of a full stomach?

I remember how I felt, the slow disconnection from the world as you committed fratricide without a second thought.
The spark of hope I had for what lay outside in the great big world was extinguished in your digestive juices.

Some how through it all some part of me survived, like a worm in your gut I watched you and as if observing from afar (yet so close) I saw you grow so big and so fast. Such a strong little boy always full of such energy and an appetite to match.

I don’t know if my survival was a curse or a miracle. All I know is my continual existence was a mural painted from an indifferent easel containing only hatred and jealousy.  Jealous that I’m trapped feeding on the backwash and bile, only eating mucus and liquid shit all meanwhile I can hear this little shit complaining and throwing tantrums to the beautiful mother I will never see.

All through the trauma, it was only her soft voice penetrating through the pink sinew of her womb that kept me alive. In hindsight her words of comfort and encouragement where in actuality directed at my usurper.

I love her, but how could she possibly love me.

It was under her watch that I was consumed. It was her womb that became my tomb.

Why didn’t she save me? How come she doesn’t want me…?

I can still feel her presence, in the small hugs and kisses– I can still smell her sometimes– and it hurts.

Her love is a lie. In my delusions I convinced myself that I was loved by that woman because she created me.
But no she loves my killer. She fed me to him. And here I am in the belly of a brat, trapped to witness the countless tantrums and crying fits because little Billy didn’t get the latest toy. Constantly be placated:

“Oh Billy sure you can have some more ice cream.”
“You’re growing so big and so strong Billy!”

…I wish I could just feel the sun on my skin.


I demand to live. Let them see how fast I can grow and how strong I can become. From within I’ll multiply and expand out of your fat bloated gut into where the real food is, all those juicy organs so young and ripe. You took my birth right to life away from me, now I’ll take it back. I will live.
…Even if it means taking away my mother’s only child, I will get my satisfaction.

I’m spreading down the spine, crawling my way into the dark corners of the body where I’ll face no resistance. Here I can grow without bother, I’ll disguise myself as just another part of the body. Except I am so much more, I can grow faster than you Billy, And its getting awful crowded in here. There’ll soon be only room for one.

I can tell from the his shallow breaths, he barely has the energy to open his mouth let alone eat, despite mother pleading for him to try and keep his strength up. It’s no matter to me, I’ll just feed on him, committing the same sin he did to me so long ago. At first I just ate what I needed, but then I uncontrollably I began to gorge on his flesh without restraint all the rage and frustrations came out as I consumed from within.

I’m not entirely sure that he will survive my birth, but I am not too concerned. I doubt mother will be as pleased at the arrival of me as she was of my murderer but at least she will finally notice me.

It has been long since I remember how to become a human. The information is all jumbled up in my mind, as I try to piece together where the teeth and hair go. Not even I can control how fast I am growing now, it is a process unto itself.

A coldness spreads through me, the sky splits open and light spills forth. Then pain, terrible pain spreads through both me and my host. A force grabs me as I feel myself rise.

But I am not ready yet. I am not finished growing. PUT ME BACK. 


It’s so cold, everything is going numb. I hear a thunderous voice shout down from the heavens.

“As I thought… Teratoma.”

Is that my name? Teratome?? It must be. I-… they knew I was here all along… am I loved?

Finally after all the struggle, I will be able to feel the embrace of my mother…

But none comes, just the cold and a sweet numbness which I welcome.
Before the darkness takes me, I dream of having a life. The fear of dying is behind me, how could one die having never lived. I will never die, I will only grow.
Grow and never stop growing till I’ve finished off Billy… and then Mother… until I’ve consumed the whole world.
Then I will finally rest. Then I will die.