This is the start of something new. Just an idea I've had floating around my diseased head for a couple of weeks. Feel free to give it a read and let me know what you think.
This is unedited and unchanged.
From brain to page.
The Plague Pirate
The Unholy Birth
A thin sheen of morning dew stuck to the group that stood around the bed. Although none were sweating, no one noticed the humidity. They were all too focused on their purpose to feel the uncomforting atmosphere in the room. They were too determined upon their soul purpose to hear the pounding rain on the ground above. Time had ceased its march leaving only this moment. All eventualities had been accounted for and nothing would disturb the ritual and sanctity of this place. Tonight's failure or success would determine their fate in the coming war.
In the fornicating candlelight, three shrouded figures stood motionless, their eyes fixed upon the figure strapped to the bed. Each was adorned in heavy, ceremonial robes around their bodies, which hung close to the mud floor. The robed figure at the head of the bed held a leather-bound book in their hands and read from it in a monotonous yet musical tone. Speaking in a language the world had long since forgotten, they recited the lines over and over. The old words continued to spill out of the figure long into the hour, without the slightest hint of doubt. The other robed figures adjusted the tightness of the straps then joined in with the chant, their hands waved in near linking circles above the abdomen of the chosen one. This man on the bed had been chosen to be the bearer of their lord, his stomach swollen with child.
After the continuous chanting reached a thrashing and cavorting crescendo, the figures froze. For a few moments, only the sound of the man's ragged gasps could be heard under the thrum of the rain. Then, one of the figures stepped briefly into an alcove at the side of the room and reappeared with a tool tray that held a variety of cruel, stained surgical utensils. On the tray there was also a bronze bowl filled with a dark liquid. The figure at the head of the bed placed the book upon a shelf behind them and pulled down its hood to reveal a youngish woman with short cropped red hair. The woman took a deep breath and stretched her arms out in front of her, cracking her knuckles. She then dipped her hand into the dark, warm blood of a stillborn being. A rush of excitement came over her youthful features as she lifted her hand from the bowl, being careful to cup the blood in her palm, and turned to the bed. The other figures removed all their vestments and stood by the side of bed, naked but for symbols drew in blood upon their torsos and faces.
"Hear us oh unholy father," the woman said, "I am your deliverer, the bringer of death. I have come to call forth your resurrection."
As she spoke, she used the blood in her palm to draw a triangle on the man's stomach. Inside the triangle she began to inscribe dark and demonic symbols.
"Lucifer, I open the pathway to your resurrection. The unborn is your vessel to command and absorb, become one with the child and enter the doorway to your return," she finished the blood-drawn pattern with three small inverted crosses placed upon the outer points of the triangle. "Enter and absolve, unholy father.”
The man screamed in agony as lightning crashed outside the lone window and illuminated the room. The other women started to fidget and fondle themselves as they watched the man snap violently up and down against his bonds. He grabbed at the tabled edge and screamed again. His eyes bugged out from his head as the veins on his forehead writhed around under the skin. The ungodly pattern on his stomach began to smoke. The blood was burning through his skin. The man’s screams became howls as he was being eaten alive by the pain coursing through his nerves. As the blood ate through his stomach it left a smoking hole, the man's head started to shake from side to side as a white froth erupted from deep in his throat.
"Yes!" the woman screamed and laughed hysterically. "Oh unholy father, come in me!"
Then he began to moan, the sound of a woman about to go into labour.
The red cropped woman turned to the others, her face flushed with excitement, "Midwife, prepare yourself."
"I am ready," said one of the women, slipping her hands into a pair of latex gloves. Her dark, purple hair shimmered in the fading candlelight as she positioned herself at the end of the bed. Wiping the sweat from her eyes she tied her hair back with some rope. After she was sure that her hair was securely tightened away from her important work, she glanced toward the tray.
"Esther," she said, "scalpel."
The red cropped woman selected the blade off the tray. When the midwife tried to take the scalpel, Esther held tight and locked the midwife's eyes on her own. "Careful Lisa," she warned, "that is your saviour."
Lisa met her eyes and nodded. Taking the scalpel she got ready. The man groaned as she moved the mechanical stirrups to the sides of the bed and removed the sheet covering his lower half.
“Shush Karl, it’ll all be over soon,” she whispered.
“Go to hell you fuck,” Karl growled as he writhed around against his straps.
"Come, my lord!" Esther watched the man pass out from the pain.
"Starting the first incision," Lisa slid the knife into the man’s skin.
As she slid the knife through the skin fluids poured out of the cut. The man's belly was soon covered in thick mucus of blood and fat. After a few more slices the baby’s head was out in the open; a screaming baby boy. Lisa grabbed a clean cloth from off of the tray and wiped clean its mouth and nose. Lisa selected the rusty forceps and applied them to the sides of the baby’s head. Twisting and pulling on the child’s head as if it was a bothersome wine cork. With a final heave Lisa pulled the shoulders clear, then the rest slid out leaving a trail of blood and fluid dribbling down Lisa’s body as she cradled the new-born boy in her arms.
The third woman spoke up. "It looks like an ordinary boy, how is that possible?"
"Shut up," Esther hissed from the other side of the bed. "What were you expecting Samantha, a baby with horns and a tail?"
Samantha was about to respond but decided against it when she caught Esther’s venomous eyes. Lisa called out for a pair of scissors to cut the umbilical cord and she swiftly severed the last vestige of humanity this child would ever experience. The boy was now a figurehead and icon of the last war the world would ever see.
Karl's eyes glazed over as his breathing became shallow and harsh. Esther gave the final command, "Quick, finish him before he dies."
Picking up the scalpel from the tray Samantha also selected a small kidney bowl and worked her way towards the top of the bed. She rested the bowl underneath Karl’s neck and with a grin slits his throat.
The baby’s cries filled the room. Its cries turned to screams as Esther lifts him into the air and carries him over to the brazier burning in the corner. Sticking out of the fire was an iron handle; the triangular symbol was etched deep into it. The floor next to the brazier was covered by a piece of blood stained cloth. Esther lowered the boy onto the cloth and commenced to speak again in the weird language. Her words were firm and melodious, yet full of a possessed passion.
“Quick now, fetch me the bowl Samantha,” Esther ordered.
She then retrieved the iron from the brazier, ignoring the blisters that sprang up on her palm. Samantha placed the bowl of blood on the floor next to the baby. Dipping the red hot branding iron into the bowl Esther winced as it hissed and spat at her. She moved the iron over the baby and let the blood drip over its body, at which the baby stopped crying. The boy’s hands and feet twitched before becoming still as his eyes met Esther’s.
"Now is the time of your resurrection, our unholy lord and torturer," she said, "Be one with the child and grow, grow to reclaim what is rightfully yours."
Lisa and Samantha watched from behind. Kneeling close to the Esther each had one hand on the bloody triangle on their chest and the other buried deep between their legs.
"Arise unholy one, Arise," the others gasped as the stroked themselves and their symbols, prostrating themselves before their lord as Esther pushed the branding iron onto the baby’s scalp. The boy smiled as his flesh was seared with the occult symbol.
Esther smiled, her pale skin stretched tight over her bony features. "So it is written, so it shall be." She paused for a moment and looked at the others, "Do not fear, my sisters. That which has been promised shall be fulfilled."
"What about the child?"
"Leave that to me. He will lead us to victory and I shall lead him until then..."