John licked his fingers, he had had lots of the smell in a big building, it was a type of building.
Factory.
It was a factory, and they were all in it, so many smells, all so delicious. They had tried to fight, they even killed some of his children, he couldn't hear their buzzing anymore, but the smell lost in the end, and the rest of his children got to tear apart the smell. John got the most, he always did, they'd always give him the sweetest of the smells, for he was their father. As John picked at the pieces of pink flesh in his teeth, he felt the tendrils loosen up in his head, and had a new name come to him; Father John. Yes, that was who he was, Father John. John remembered it now, people would call him Father John and he'd wear black, he'd go to a place, he forgot its name, it wasn't a factory—Church. Yes, he'd go to Church and that would be where he would... work, yes, it was work. People would look up to him just like his children did now, and he'd tell them what to do, he'd lead them. Yes, John was a leader, he was Father John, and he'd wear all black. John looked down at his clothes. They weren't black. His shirt used to be green—bright green—but now was a dark, mossy green stained with multiple layers of blood from the smell.
John licked his teeth and felt a memory hit his head, he didn't have many memories, so he liked it when they hit him. This memory was one with his daughter, but there was someone else too, a woman, like the adults before the disease. She was beautiful, so beautiful, but gone, gone before the disease, taken by something else. John felt his throat tighten and the back of his eyes get stabbed as hot liquid ran down his cheeks. What was this feeling? It was something from the old him, he didn't like it, he didn't like the old him, it was filled with hurt and pain and all kinds of things that he didn't want to think about. John felt a sound come up his throat and opened his mouth to let out a hoarse cry, the sound seeming to wash through the adults around him in waves as they felt the pain of their leader.
John felt a new word seep into his brain. Wife.
YOU ARE READING
Burden.
Short StoryA sort of short story that is a side piece to a work in progress. This short story, while having a very fictitious premise, uses its strange narration to try and eventually touch on the burdens people go through, whether it be guilt, a form of drug...
