Author: glossolalias PM
the birds fell first.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Romance - Words: 399 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 5 - Published: 08-02-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3047016
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
in parting, there was nothing left for me to say; he turned his back and ambled slowly and didn't hear me grind my heels into the gravel, gnashing teeth, aching-
two weeks ago, he told me he possessed me; when we lived in fevered hush, he breathed fantasy onto my neck and fucked me like a God. often, his name became that of God, and i forgot his skin in favor of delirious words, manifesto he ejaculated with such fervor it had to be truth.
"for humanity's sake," and he left pieces.
i find dead birds on the lawn, feathers and flesh falling off hollow bones; they were the first to succumb to illness, rotting as they screamed for purpose.
did i have purpose? when i looked into him, when we sat at our cold table and spoke at length about epigenetics, prodding writhing things too small for the eye to comprehend, i parroted him. he would say, "it must be done," and i would say, "it must be done," and he kissed me like i was him.
"this disease...it'll drag on for centuries, passed parent from child, manipulating DNA and prying open skin; it leaves the sufferer aware, and many choose suicide, quickening the process... many more choose to keep living, striving even, but the birds... the only other creature affected, perhaps by the experimental strain... they all drive themselves to the ground, masses of them at once. last night, an eagle took its life at my window, and i thought, we've done it."
i only doubted you when the sun rose, and i saw blood flaking from your skin, dried and ugly brown.
"you have to carry this on. this is the next step, this is the essence. those who survive have evolved, this is just aiding the process, weeding out those that need be and leaving the immune... and was i ever God?" he smiled wryly. "you are God."
and he walked away, but he was all i ever had; he died in the city he loved, noteless amongst other corpses, but he was all i ever had.
i can never hate an idealist, for he thought he had done right, and his murmurs still warm my face when i sweep horror through my eyes; amongst ruins, i am God, as you dictated.