Trinity

By Frederick Foote

Under silver skies and black moons on purple sands in desert lands I stand, a steady stream of my life's essence flowing down my left arm, dampening the arid land. A red-stained bandage covers my right side from armpit to beltline. I wipe away the trickle of blood and sweat stinging my eyes.

Here under gleaming skies in moon shadows I will make it right. Set it straight. Bring it all together. But the procreator has to hurry, speed urgently, and be here before I fall into the rough embrace of the crimson stained sands.

The furnace-breath wind changes direction, twists, turns; molests the sands and spins into something dark and too lovely for my eyes. It is her. The mother of my only descendant is here at last.

The creature casts three shadows, whispers to me in sibilant, silt sounds. "Welcome, welcome to the last place you will ever see. Your restless resting place --"

I point at the apparition. "Summon her. Bring our child here. Now!"

Her laughter whips the sand into a blinding storm that blasts my skin and blinds my eyes and brings me to my knees.

"That beast, that insatiable cannibal that shit eating slug you sired would devour you on the spot. She --"

Swaying on my knees, my vision gone I command in accordance with our vows. "Now! Bring her now!"

My consort claps her seven appendages like a drum salute, and our progeny is here.

I smell the rotten stink of her even before she arrives. I feel the stench like a foul wave roll over me as she greedily crawls toward me. She raises up over me, splits down the middle and a thousand worms reach for me. She closes around me. It is too late to scream.

The mother turns to dismiss her well-fed spawn with a clap of claws, talons and cloven hooves.

But it is not just her daughter anymore. It is us, me and our offspring, a new combination, a new creature.

The mother/mistress's concern turns to fear as her daughter/mate ignores her frantic orders and advances on her. Fear gallops into panic too late as the offspring/spouse enfolds and devours its mother/wife.

Under the silver skies and triple moons on the purple sands, I have made it right. Set it straight and brought us all together under these bright, shiny skies.