Monstrous Offspring

She lies like a stone, clutching her arms to her chest and covering freshly weeping wounds. Under a thin layer of numb, frozen flesh, she swears to herself that this will never happen again, that this really will be the last time.

She prays for peace of mind and body as she fights the dullness of her heartbeat, inhaling the icy wind of the rocky mountain path. Fresh tears pour down her blood stained face as she recalls the image of the beast who hurts her everyday.

His face like old leather, wrinkled, rough and uneven; eyes like beetles, black as the shadows he lurks in and where no light dare shine. A body wide and heavy as a boulder crashing down into the valley and causing the Earth to tremble with each step.

Dented and torn, the armour he sports is far too small for him, stolen from knights who’s weapons could not pierce the leathery hide of his skin, and so he steals from the corpses of brave and foolish men, roaring in victory over their broken bodies.

Worst are his knuckles and nails - hard as rock and sharp as thorns, the force of a hundred strongmen behind them and arms so long they nearly drag along the ground beneath his hunched figure. These weapons, his bare hands, the worst he could possibly use. The worst he does.

Gasping back to reality, she sees the monster in front of her now, standing over her and looking down, as he always is. The Sun sets behind him in a bloody, red-clouded sky, his shadow casts a tall, thick figure long the rocky mountain path.

The beast drops an axe and helmet, shrugging the armour off his broad, hard shoulders. His bloodied lips part slightly, to reveal the tips of spears lining the inside of his mouth. He licks the blood from his lips with a forked tongue and snorts sharply through a snout of a nose as he inhales.

“Mama.” he whispers with a gnarled, husky tenderness.

She blinks back tears and sighs a deep mournful sigh. Alarms screech in her mind, as once again, her heart acts of its own accord - she lifts an arm, reaching out for her son.

The beast crawls into her embrace, bites and suckles her breast and leans against her, pressing into the wounds inflicted by his own hands earlier.

She winces and weeps, cursing at her heart, cursing at her soul and willing her life away. A mother’s love is eternal and unconditional, no matter how monstrous her offspring become.