Parasite by Glenis Moore

Parasite by Glenis Moore

It had forced its way out of her with pain and blood but now it lay mewling and waving its limbs as though distressed to be outside the nurturing confines of her body. Part of her wanted to kill it, to smash it to pieces before it could grow and infect someone else but the horror of its creation, although strong, could not override the shear relief she felt at its release nor the tiredness that seemed to engulf her now the cramping and tearing had ceased.

The woman had warned her before she died about the men; about how they would entice you with promises of shelter from the wind and rain. The loneliness and desolation was better than their company she had said as they could take you and impale you on their bodies. You could not fight them as they were stronger and seemed to expect your pain in payment, but she had said nothing about the disease they carried: a disease that would only show itself weeks after their attack.

So the girl had watched with terror as her body had swelled, as it made her sick and weak, and as it made her crave for foods that she could no longer find in the deserted remains of the town. It had gone on for months and there had seemed no remedy but at last her body had fought back so that finally it had expelled this thing with its wrinkled bloody skin, looking so like a human and yet so different now that it could no longer feed on her strength and limited resources. She would be well again now though, she knew it, and she would avoid the men in future with their offers of warmth and food. After all, perhaps they were all infected and it wasn’t worth the risk in case the next time the thing would want to stay inside her like the parasite it so obviously was.

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Copyright Glenis Moore 2026

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