As I said last weekend, I was on a suspense kick. This is the third of those and the one that didn't get finished. Someday, maybe...
Fertile Ground
As she walked down
the produce aisle, Adam could smell her fertility. Her long brown hair was pulled taut from her
face into an unflattering ponytail, but she could have been butt ugly for all
he cared. He didn’t need to look at her
for long, he only needed to get inside her.
Plant his seed and be done with it.
Nine months from
now, she would bear a perfect child in his image. They always did.
Seven weeks ago,
she had been just another blurred face at a pro-life rally. He noticed her then, but another already held
his eye. By now that other girl was
draped over the porcelain, proving her womb already bore his fruit. He was finished with her. On to the next.
She reached out to
squeeze a cantaloupe, testing its ripeness.
He smiled at the irony.
Chances were good
that she didn’t even know she was no more than fertile soil. Most women didn’t know their cycles as well
as he did. They never took the time to
watch the signs. They never bothered to
understand God’s rhythm or His plan for them.
Only he understood
what the Lord’s intentions were.
“Be fruitful and
multiply,” he whispered as the girl chose a bag of grapes and set them inside
her cart. Those gentle hands would raise
his son.
He could imagine
the strong sturdy legs taking their first steps. A wide smile of too few teeth expressing the
first joy of being a man. For the first
few months, he knew, children were little more than the monkeys some assumed
humans were made from. But he knew
better. The beginning of a man’s life
was just a test; walking upright was the passage signifying God’s plan.
His sons would all
know their true place in the world.
Let the women
raise them through those monkey years.
Time enough to claim them once their abilities began to grow. Once they became men.
And if any females
were born, he decided, he would ignore them.
Someday they would bear sons.
After all, it was their only purpose.
“Excuse me,” a shy
voice said.
He looked up and
caught himself looking directly into the same watery blue eyes he’d seen at the
rally all those weeks before.
“Don’t I know you
from somewhere?”
This wasn’t the
first time one of the girls had recognized him as he followed their paths. He wasn’t an easy man to forget.
“Oh! Hi!,” he said. “Didn’t I see you at the protest in Ann Arbor last month?”
Her lush mouth
split into a wide smile of perfect teeth.
“I thought that was you. Funny
seeing you here.”
“I was just
thinking that myself. I travel a lot for
work. How about you?” His words came out as smoothly as if they
were rehearsed, but they were words he’d spoken at least a dozen times. It helped that they were true, just not
particularly true for this occasion.
“Not me. I live a few blocks from here.” She nodded her head in the general direction
of her home. He pasted a surprised look
on his face even though he’d been there the night before, watching her.
“Small world.”
“Well, I’ve got to
run. It was nice seeing you. Next time you’re in town, look me up.” She tried to make her words sound sincere,
but he knew she didn’t really want to see him again. They never wanted to, but they always did.
In fact, she would
be seeing him again tonight.
Ewww - and not about your writing, B.E. - that's just plain creepy! And a very different premise.
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