the night her lord gives his gift.

by Jiri Benedikt

Her devotion to her Lord surpasses the limits of the sky. Every morning, she burns the incense and roam it around the house, to neglect all the bad spirits for her fertility. She eats the food her Lord orders her to consume (she knows the meals with the dreams her Lord send to her during her sleep paralysis) to create a healthy hearth for the child. At night, she walks out of her nipa hut, dressed in an all-skin-tight garments, to search for the man her Lord sent (or a boy, if ever a minor). One morning, she starts to heave. The following months, her belly turns round and she is beyond thrilled. Forget the man, or the boy, she does not remember, as long as she has the child with her. But the ninth month comes and she carries in her arms a stillborn child. She storms to her Lord’s church, kneels before his altar and devours her stillborn child with tears and rage.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.


let me hold your words before you leave;

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