Lamia

CH 2

Chapter Two

The distant sound of a baby's cries woke Vicki. She eased herself upright, her head spinning and throbbing dimly in time with the screams. She took in a couple of deep breaths, hoping to force the fuzziness from her head. It only served to intensify the cries, bringing them clearer, more frantic and feeding her emerging migraine. Vicki looked up and could make out a cot against the far wall. She swung her legs round to get out of bed. Pain exploded in her stomach, doubling Vicki over and forcing her to the cold wooden floor. She wretched, bringing up only a string of green sputum which swung defiantly from her lip. Vicki remained still for a moment, not daring to move as the pain retreated. She wiped the sputum away with the back of her hand as another wave of excruciating pain swept across her stomach. Vicki, this time, managed a scream which mingled with the now near demoniacal wailing of the baby. She clutched at her stomach trying to confine the pain from spreading. As quick as it had come, it subsided once more.

Vicki released her hold on her stomach and rolled onto her back, spread eagle. The cold floor felt good against her body. She lifted her hands to wipe away the beading sweat on her forehead. A thick red liquid covered her right arm, dripping in large globs to the floor. Shocked, she wiped frenziedly at the blood with her left hand, searching for the wound. She found nothing. It was then she felt the warmth that slowly oozed down from her stomach, over her hips and between her thighs. Vicki looked down her body and saw the bottom half of her nightdress glistening dark red. She scrambled backwards, her feet sliding in the bloody trail she left behind.

The back of her head collided with the wooden side of the cot. The screaming was now so intense, even the returning pain in her stomach could not jump the queue for Vicki's attention. Reaching a hand up to the cot, she heaved herself upright, a motherly instinct to pacify a child.

Vicki turned and, for a moment, just looked at the beetroot-faced baby, watching as it continued to bawl dementedly, it's tiny arms flailing wildly. She tried to sift through her foggy mind for the name of the child, but for now it remained elusive. She reached out and gently lifted the baby from beneath it's covers, lovingly hugging it to her chest. She didn't notice, or took no heed of the infant's snake-like tail that coiled around Vicki's wrist as she rocked lightly back and forth to calm the noise.

With a few whimpers, the baby finally fell silent. Vicki continued to sway, humming softly the tune of Twinkle Twinkle. She stole a peak at the baby. It's face was no longer beetroot, more a pallid grey. Vicki thrust the baby away from her at arms length to enable a better look. It's glazed, sunken eyes stared back. The baby soft skin was now desiccated and flaking away from the once button nose and chubby cheeks. Vicki screamed and dropped the crumbling repugnant form. The baby's tiny body hit the side of the cot and exploded into dust.

Chapter Three

Vicki shot up in bed, panting heavily, her hair plastered to the side of her face with sweat. Even through the darkness she could make out the far wall but there was no wooden cot as in the dream. A sudden panic rose in her mind and she reached down to feel her swollen belly. The baby responded to it's mother's touch with a few reassuring kicks. She rubbed it thankfully in return.

Of course the cot would still be flat packed in it's box. People had mentioned something about bad luck accompanying premature assembly of the baby's cot. Or maybe it was the pram. Vicki hadn't really listened as each piece of advice from one person was contradicted by the next piece from another.