By
C. C. Parker
It rained menstrual blood that day, and the day before that.
It had been raining menstrual blood for so long that few could remember otherwise.
They slipped in it on the way to work, their hands and faces sticky with the stuff as they were drinking their morning coffee.
Employers were forced to install showers so their employees, which forced employees to show up fifteen minutes early.
Children were born into the deluge and could only dream about a world that didn’t stink of dead cunt.
It flowed like wine in the streets, drying in layers.
Soon and the entire world would encapsulated.
The same thing had happened on Mars.
- - - - - - - -
Professor Dee looked outside his window and took another drink. He’d been drinking steady for several days. The world was ending and their wasn’t a flocking thing he could do about it.
A Hymen Eater wandered past his window, face dripping red.
If only there were more of them, he thought, silently thanking the passing shape.
Professor Dee watched the shape slump to the ground. With its fists it began to dig gelatinous menstrual-lumps from the ground, thus cramming them into the maw of its dripping red head-thing.
Professor Dee was an Astronomy professor who harbored a curious predilection for religion. For most of his life he did not believe in God, but the coming of the blood had motivated him to dig further; perhaps, even, deeper.
The Hymen Eater’s eyes flickered through his bloody shawl. A blackened tongue struggled out of its mouth and began to lick the area around its mouth.
They would never go hungry.
They weren’t hungry enough.
If only they could land a man on Mars; maybe find some clue as to how this started to begin with.
- - - - - - -
Occasionally, a Hymen Eater would orally rape a young virgin. In one such case the girl died. The Hymen Eater had devoured straight to her womb.
Cases such as these only occurred when an Eater was somehow stranded in a dry spot, which was seldom.
When something like this did happen people just turned the cheek. A few young girls could not compete with the threat facing humanity. Each and every Eater was buying them time; time they could not get other wise.
Unfortunately this gave young Non-Eaters license to rape young virgins. They could blame it on The Eaters. And they did.
- - - - - - -
Menstrual Cults began to pock mark the face of a reddening Earth. Statues forged out of coagulating menstrual blood were erected.
Hymen eaters enjoyed these statues best. It was the equivalent of a fruit stand.
There were also those who maintained their faith concerning fire and brimstone, the wrath of God, and the coming of Armageddon (or at least our going to it).
People lined up in the bloody streets and prayed, danced, pranced, screamed, begged, fucked, wept, sacrificed, worshiped etc., etc . . .
- - - - - - - -
Professor Dee was the first person to suggest that the same thing had happened on Mars.
"What proof is your Mars theory founded on?" One of his colleagues asked.
"Well . . . it’s red . . . for one thing."
Some of the most intelligent men in the world smiled at Professor Dee.
"Why menstrual blood?" One asked. "Why not regular blood?"
"Maybe God is actually a woman."
"But a virgin?"
"Why not?"
"That would make The Mother, Mary, a lesbian."
"Holy lesbian action," joked another.
One got a visual: Two stoic nun types eating each other out. God and Mary spilling blood into each others faces.
"Can a woman break another woman’s hymen?"
"Of course."
Incidentally, Professor Dee had confused the lot.
- - - - - - -
A group of Hymen Eaters stood in a deserted street and passed around the sacrament. One of their group, a saint perhaps, had managed to extract a rather old chunk of mestrual rock.
"I found a cave," she explained, "which burrowed deep into ground."
"Let’s go."
"It’s too dangerous."
"Nonsense."
"It’s filling up as we speak."
"How did you manage?"
She was lucky that they couldn’t see past the blood to her face; the quaint jaw line and full womanly lips.
Burying her hands in her pockets, she looked up at the sky. She prayed to anyone who would listen. Why had she extracted this bit of loam from the Earth? And more: Why had she brought it here?
These men were savages and cowards. They knew full well who they were trying to save. Themselves. Humanity was foolish to have ever thought that these things were trying to save them.
God was foolish.
Mary, in the least, had to smile at that.
- - - - - - -
Professor Dee caught a Hymen Eater off guard when crossing the street. "My name’s Henry," he said. "Henry Dee."
He had never seen one up so close before. Most people tried to avoid them all together. It was suggested.
The thing spoke in a language Henry, or Professor Dee, could not understand.
"Are you from the sky?" Blood splattered his face when he looked up. In the beginning this sensation gave him an erection, but now it only made him sick.
Henry pointed.
The Eater continued to look at him. Finally, he bent low to the ground.
The Eater offered a handful of the stuff to Henry.
Henry had tasted the blood before, but only on or around his lips. Never had he ingested it. The thought made him vomit.
The Eater pushed the clot closer and grunted.
Henry took the clot and forced it between his lips. He gagged at first, but managed to keep the thing down.
A savage grin creased the Hymen Eater’s wounded looking face.
- - - - - - -
Mary looked around her. Figuratively, she could see everything.
The burgeoning cults of the world were filled with clueless charlatans. And Christians continued to dig through the trash.
She didn’t have the heart to tell them that her husband left many axons ago, long before the death of their precious Son. Nor could she bear to tell them that Joseph fucked the shit out of her on that starry night in Israel so many years ago.
I brought them the rock because it was mine to give in the first place.
The rest is all bullshit anyway
- - - - - - - -
Eating the menstrual blood helped Henry, or Professor Dee, realize that the Hymen Eater’s represented what man once was, and what he was becoming. All time and space overlapping, Henry felt like a real heel. He’d heard of drugs such of these, yet never dared try them.
How many planets in the known universe, let alone unknown, housed a number of species in varying stages of evolution, he wondered? Or: How long will we be floating in space before we make contact with ourselves?
The Hymen Eater had left long ago, but Henry could feel that he was still there.
Mars is Earth is another trillion planets floating through our psyche.
It felt as if God was on his side for once, but it didn’t feel like God at all. It was as if none of that ever existed save for in the most rudimentary way. It didn’t even matter whether he was alive or dead. The only thing that mattered was that he understood.
- - - - - - - -
The Hymen Eaters left when they could and The Earth was swallowed.
Mary followed because she couldn’t think of a better way.
Finally, the rain stopped and the ground hardened.
- - - - - - -
Nearby, Mars sprouted its first signs of early vegetation.
- - - - - - -
Before he died Henry Dee told his wife how much he loved her.
- - - - - - -
And God was somewhere, dreaming.
- - - - - - -
He still is.
The End.
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"C. C. Parker lives in Seattle, WA with his wife, Zoe, and daughter, Natalie. Right now he's working in a used bookstore (Couth Buzzard Books) in North Seattle. As for publishing, he has just recently warmed up to the Internet and the plethora of speculative fiction zines it has to offer and has only been submitting to them for a short time. He has published short pieces in Deviant Minds, Alternate Realities, Planet Magazine, Suspect Thoughts, Apocalypse Fiction, Dark Muse, and Demensions; plus the hardcopy journals, More Than That and Demontia. He has been writing for many years and doesn't intend to stop. Mr Parker can't think of anything better than creating little, twisted worlds to slip into from time to time. "After all," he says, "it's what keeps us going." " |