I know it’s crazy early to be doing NaNo warm ups but it’s been two years since my last one… thought I needed it. This seems be something worth expanding upon.
“I’m hacking away at him. Cold and wet chunks of flesh hit my arms, my chest, my face. I can feel the nausea rising inside my throat. I swallow it down. There is no other way. He’d want this. Destroy the body. Destroy the Blessing. Always take the head but if you can, if you have time. Cut out the heart. His hand twitches by my knee. It’s already happening. She’s already starting to take control. I crack through a rib with the butt of my knife. It breaks like twigs. I can see his heart pumping behind a wall of muscle. It’s already glowing. Already being seduced by the power.
I pluck it out. It comes easily. None of the preto natural strength yet. She’s concentrating all her power on the flesh. I’ve stopped that. The heart wriggles in my hand. Like a worm or a grub. It aches to be back inside the shell. I squeeze it. First with one hand then with two. I crush it with as much force I can muster. It’s like squeezing a balloon so much pressure and push back. It fights me. Like a creature. No human heart should be this alive on its own. Until. Just like a balloon. It pops.
Blood and viscera splatter down my face. It’s lacking smell. A distinct quality of the Blessed. They have no smell even when they are falling apart. The hand that was twitching stops. His body seems to exhale like it’s deflating. I drop what’s left of the heart and stand up. I’m covered in gore. His eyes are still open. I didn’t have time to close them. I just needed to end it. Stop the spread. Stop the Blessing.
I reach to his face. The face of my brother. I close his eyes. There are no tears anymore. I’ve lost too many people to really grieve. There comes a point after the tenth loss when grief runs dry.
I haven’t always been like this. There was distinct time in my life that my emotions ruled me. Logic seemed dirty and unnecessary.
That was before the party started. Before the gods turned their backs on us and let her remain. Like the equivalent of an interdimensional aristocracy they waved a loose hand and allowed her to eat cake. We are the cake. Humanity. There are only a few of us left. Those yet Blessed we are unblessed.
They call us The Remaining.