MONO ISSUE 2 - Flipbook - Page 78
Elliot appeared in the doorway. Bridget glowered at him as she clutched the baby
against her chest. Marie stood with her schatz under her jumper, as if she was pregnant
all over again, because her schatz could not-under-any-circumstances, whatsoever, be
exposed to too much light. ‘You’re not well Marie. I’m taking the little one until you both
see some sense. I knew there was something odd going on when the pair of you became
vegans.’ ‘Bridget. I’ve got things under control. Just hand me the baby.' Bridget passed
the baby to her brother before leaving begrudgingly. Bringing her schatz to her ear as if
acceding to her inaudible wishes, ‘I think we’d like to be alone,’ Marie demanded. She
passed her fingers over the pale silvery scars that swam in shoals across her midriff
where her skin had sought to accommodate new life. A pain gnawed at her breasts. The
baby continued to reject Marie, yet her breasts had still ballooned to elephantine
proportions. She glanced over at her schatz to find that the lid to her container had
become loose. When she leant forward, her breasts bursting with her own produce, she
felt a sudden pinch. She looked down to find the toothless gums of the conduit latched
onto her nipple. Soon, her entire left breast was engorged by the open plug. A searing
pain followed by a rush of relief swam through her body, as the creature drew the pain
from her. The effect was soporific. Like a rag doll, her limbs gave way beneath her. With
her head beneath the cot, she nestled on the baby mat, and slept deeply.
That night, she was visited by the beautiful young nurse. She told Marie that she was
now ready. Her schatz had grown to the size of a small trunk. It had been feeding
heartily, and had good blood. The elixir would be at its prime potency. She warned Marie
that it would be a fiddly process but she would do her best to outline precise
instructions. She even provided a set of vials and some instruments. Marie was to heat
the liquid to 106 degrees. It must then be cooled to body temperature, exactly 37
degrees Celsius, not a fraction more or less.
The next morning, whilst Elliot was at his tennis lesson, Marie stole to the garage
which had always been her private emporium. She had transferred her schatz to an old
demijohn she had once fancied she would use for in-home kombucha brewing. Like the
poised toe of a ballerina, it whirled in a pool of ethereal delight. Yet a certain whiff of
danger lined its sabre-like physique. She was thrilled and terrified by this thing that she
had created, with her body; that gelatinous conduit of her very own flesh and blood.
She followed the nurse’s instructions. Suspended over the apparatus, she watched
hypnotically as the liquid bubbled away, hovering between 38 and 37 degrees. She
heard a car pulling into the drive. The headlights licked the garage door like the
searching gaze of a subterranean creature. Marie panicked and downed the liquid in one.
She felt the warm metallic liquid rush through her veins. Then she heard some apparatus
crashing, and it was dark.
When Marie awoke, she found herself in a very white room. It had been a full year
since her schatz was born. Am I dead? she wondered. She looked out the window,
towards a bandstand and a desert of very still grass. It looked like a Magritte’s Treachery
of Images because it seemed not to be a real field of grass at all. She looked down to
find that she was surrounded by bars, wooden bars, like a baby’s cot. And when she
brought a hand to her face, she was greeted by a chubby pink paw. She attempted to lift
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