Author Website: http://www.bubblews.com/
Author's works: This promising author hopes to soon have her novels published. This information will be updated when she is published. Enjoy her short horror story.
Word Count: 930
Lilith Abi
Green hands lifted the newborn baby up. Talon nails caressed the baby’s scaly skin. Black eyes met black eyes. A forked tongue screamed from the baby’s throat.
Was the baby human? We would never know. For, as soon as the baby’s thirsty lips touched her mama’s breast, she died a quick and painful death.
14) The wild beasts of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow; the screech owl also shall rest there, and find for herself a place of rest.
15) There shall the great owl make her nest, and lay, and hatch, and gather under her shadow: there shall the vultures also be gathered, every one with her mate.
16) Seek ye out of the book of the LORD, and read: no one of these shall fail, none shall want her mate: for my mouth it hath commanded, and his spirit it hath gathered them.
Isaiah 34: 14-16
That was the last time. The words rang out through the dark as the monster soared over barren lands.
That was the last time you kill a kindling with the milk of your own breast.
The monster had been banished.
Blood. Think red. A full moon of it. For eternity.
The screech owl shall rest there, without getting rest. The wild beasts and the satyrs are of no horror to her, but an eternity without mating is more horror than she can imagine. A barren land. A barren body. She cannot live a barren life.
Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop…
Lilith created the lullaby. Lilith created the fear that babies could die.
She used to traipse through nursery’s, stroking wards and amulets that said Lilith, abi, or Lilith, go away. She used to peer into the babies’ cribs, her forked tongue wanting so to kiss them. She used to caress them, to sing to them. She walked in their nightmares, and scared them of sleep.
All Lilith wanted was a baby to love. A baby to call her own. A pale, blond-haired and blue-eyed baby that could sing the stars in existence and laugh the moon out of its shade. Yet no matter how many times she bred, that baby was never born. And no matter how many babies she had, not one ever lived.
Now she was done. Lilith was done trying for the perfect baby. Lilith was done holding newborns in her arms, giving nightmares to the babies of strangers, singing her lullabies. Banished to a desert land. Forever.
Imagine your worst fear. Imagine the most traumatizing screams. You couldn’t even come close to the terror that was the screech owl’s cries.
She squawked and screamed. She cried and clawed. She tried to rip the wall apart. But forever meant forever, didn’t it? She would have to figure out how to live forever and still have some time left over…
A dark room. Silk covers. Lilith wouldn’t play a subservient role. Lilith would never play a subservient role again. Not since the king of demons himself asked her to. If you can overcome the king of demons, you can overcome anything. You can overcome everything. You can even overcome forever.
What’s your worst fear? Spiders crawling around your feet? Snakes slithering up your nose? Is it creepy? Is it crawly? Or is it darker than that? Are you scared of car crashes in the storm? Are you scared of lightning or fire? Are you scared of the darkness closing in around you and swallowing you up?
Pick your worst fear, and have a nightmare about it every night. Scream out in the darkness of your room. Wake up in sweats of cold. Live your every day hoping your terrors would fade.
That was how Lilith bore her children. She didn’t strive off of the love and passions that we humans do. She strived off of terror and fear. And her children were borne of nightmares.
Nightmare children are not normal children. Nightmare children have scaly skin, and forked tongues, and snakes for their hair. And nightmare children never survive.
Maybe if Lilith acted subservient once, maybe just once, she could have her perfect little child.
The love and passion of a human hurts. Screams the like of which you have never heard.
You want to hug her, until her grip pushes all of the air out of your lungs. You want to kiss him, until his fangs pierce into your lip. You want to love him, until that love takes all that you have left.
Lilith never knew what true love is. She never wanted to know. She knew it would kill her if it didn’t just tear her apart. And then tear her open.
And her perfect little child was born.
A veil of black hair tangled in with the perfect blonde curls. Deep pools of tar met the perfect orbs of blue.
There weren’t any scales on this pale skin. The tongue wasn’t forked. The hands and feet had all ten appendages each. The body was perfect, but was the mind?
A talon grazed a cheek. A scratch poured blood. A newborn baby cried.
A mama pushed a strap off of her shoulder. A baby licked her thirsty lips. A mama fed her child, and a baby cried blood.
Did the baby cry because she was about to die? We would never know.
