Page 103 of Mortala
The world’s warmer now, much more than when I inhabited my own body.Bitter cold winters used to hit the bone while summers were humid yet villagers barely sweat—a different time, another life.Now, the air clings like the thickest gruel.Suffocating as you wade through it.
An early summer storm has drenched the land, having brought in the fading scent of wildflowers and the pure musk of soil.I can smell it before I breach the doors.
Outside, automobiles whip down the streets.Running through droves of puddles that splash rain water across the road and onto the paved walkways—draining in a rush.In the distance, thunder rolls with muted sparks of lightning flashing through the sky.Trying as it may to wash away the sins of man.Now every immorality has accumulated in small pools where they loiter for the right pair of pant legs of those who step without care.
I want to run and chase.
Maul and maim.
Seek.Destroy.Conquer.Kill.Feel.Bite.Taste.Rip skin from bone.I want to bathe in excrement, then march this beauty to a slab for offering.
One naked foot after the other, soft fleshy-slaps snap along wet walkways as we seek out the unknown.
A stench like no other wafts through the air, calling to me.It's mottled, sour, a delicious rot—perfect for withering my teeth to the jaw.
Our nose leads the way, past windows where we sneak a glimpse at the girl's untamed appearance.Barefooted, hair in knots, and clothes ready to fall off her malnourished frame.
Knocked to the side, our skull cracks against a rain-streaked window pane when another body crashes into us.
Opportunity brings the nastiest grin to our face.In a flash, we grab, bite, and rip as a ghastly scream curdles from a delicious throat.
Chapter thirty-five
Spawn
Absoluteheathen,thatone.Her barbaric behavior, while effective, is ruining everything.Our appearance, clothing, the body we have taken over—she's going to cost us greatly and I pray I'm the one who’s allowed to punish her.
What was done to her in the past evidently has not thwarted her berserk state of play.The choice to frolic in filth and eschew a simple douse is abhorrent.Over and over, I shall ask why I befriended such an unpleasant being.
In her brackish ways, she's sullied the girl—much like herself—in and out.
Complete unapologetic putridity.
The girl's body is no longer the flawless thing it was when we entered years ago.It’s damaged beyond repair and on the verge of spoilage.
Every time we return to Earth and play this game—cycle after cycle—the hedonist practically wastes our chance to walk free once more.We overpower a beautiful maiden, revel in the spoils her frame offers, then once we’ve used up every bit of her, she's cast aside to make way for the next devotee.
Finally, we have the chance to roam with how strong Sadie is.Former converts we've come to own never lasted this long.By eighteen years of age, they're falling apart.Rotting from the inside out from famine, disease, and infirmities.
Her resilience is most meritorious.More so when she attends the Medicus to gather poison specifically designed to silence us—admirable but ignorant.She may have found a temporary reprieve, but every time her poison fails, Kate becomes far more aggressive and punishes her.
Though Kate has yet to stop batting the poor thing around, I've not quite had my feel of her.I want to play still—smear her cruor over my youthful skin and lie about her essence.
The animal needs to share her before I lose my patience.
I am but a noble woman, after all, and I want more.
"We'll be young and beautiful forever, sweet thing," I murmur into her ear as her trapped mind screams for a mortal man to save her.
Kate's in control of the body, but I have my fingers threading through her sanity as she watches a stranger's life fade from their eyes.Then, she's on the move once more, stalking the night.
"I...I can't d...do this anymore."The broken words are pitiful.
Too bad.
"You'll survive, girl.It's part of the plan.You'll be part of us, and will not feel any more pain or sadness," I say uncharacteristically.Compared to my typical brutish nature; I’d rather slit her throat and hang her over my bath.Instead, I draw her close to my bosom when she falls unbecomingly into hysterics.
One stroke after another, I pet the pathetic thing as snot and tears soil the front of my bodice.Her feeble arms brace around my narrow waist where she trembles with the force of her cries.
