Thu, 19 May 2005

afforded a single glimpse
The baby had the clawed hands of a devil, turned inward like those of tendon-damaged suicidal teenagers, nails thick as horns. Its mother looked at me, expecting me to coo, to coddle; apparently the reactions of all the people who had this clump of misshapen birth set before them had broken down into paroxysms of joy at the embodiment of innocence and light, but not me, I promised myself I was done lying to parents. “Your child is an abomination”, I said to the mother, refusing to hold the child in my hands, tempted to get all Gregory Peck and stab the stupid beast to death so as to spare the earth the great and unholy potential this child held. “You mean his hands? The doctor told me that was just a temporary thing.” Certainly he did; he would have said anything, as such a child refutes the very idea of science, the notion of verifiable results nothing more than a sad trick played by a malicious demiurge, human understanding simply a bauble to distract from the blood-driven machinery that truly beat the pulse of the world, the same infernal whine I heard that night behind the rendering plant. I stared at the baby, buried in blankets, and the last thing I remember is the look on its pinched and bitter face as I vomited into the stroller. (lj comments)
(12:12.05.19.2005) [/ana] #