John didn't know what was happening to him, eating used to make him feel great, used to just bathe him in a trip of bliss, but those trips were getting shorter and shorter, and he was needing to eat more and more.
It was hurting, the disease, but it wasn't the disease though, the disease was his friend. Yes. The disease didn't kill his daughter, the smell did. Just like his wife, yes, he could remember it now, his wife, Jane, Jane was her name. She had died, killed by the kids, by the smell, they were all so small and squeaky, but so delicious. John could feel the tendrils in his brain, they were starting to feel so good now, he could hear even more of his children with the disease buzzing around in them, there were so many. He was calling them, telling them to come to him. John looked down at the children around him, they were all the same, all decayed, they were sick and hungry, all because of the kids, it was their fault, they caused the disease, all they did was take.
Now it was the adults' turn to take.
John smiled at his children and felt a line from a life past come to him and pounded his chest, managing to croak out the words, "I am your Shepherd! And I will give you all your desires!" in a low, raspy voice. John could sense his children's excitement. Yes, they were all coming to him, all of his children, all of them buzzing so loudly, they were so hungry, so very, very hungry. John would feed them.
He would feed them all.
YOU ARE READING
Burden.
Historia CortaA 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...
