《A moldy world》


 The last birth.

    A women covered in blood, filth and feathers crawled into a rotten shack, aged by the passage of eons, her belly elongated to horrifying lengths, and her face missing skin. Once inside the shell of a home she laid upon her back, tears streaking down her face. She tried catching her breath, ignoring her abundant pain, to scan the surroundings, frantically searching for some sort of medicine, but nothing is to be found, only the ever present mold. She looks back and sees the outside world, vast white flower fields stained with her filth and fluid show her the path she took.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Her eyes fall, losing their glimmer of hope. In an odd language she speaks, ¡°I guess this is the end,¡±


    her back falls onto the floor splintering upon the wooden floor, and her elongated belly bursts, revealing her insides. From it a frail looking man with feathers where hair should be crawls out, his hands replaced with claws and his feet a mix of hands and talons. He, the product of the last sin, is this worlds meager hope.

 An animal before a man

    The frail man tried and failed to breath, his multifaceted form giving him both the instincts of a newborn and the instincts of a beast born from a gods madness, he flailed on the ground trying to make sense of the world, screeching like a baby bird. His feet, replaced with hands and talons, each had a mix of fingers and talons, one finger and two talons on one side and three talons and nine fingers on the other. He flailed in confusion and panic until eventually like a new born stead or bird, he earned his grip, while still wobbling about he crawled outside with animal like instincts, he briefly crashed into the muddy ground, falling headfirst into many flowers, but he got back up. He feathers bristled and flowed as the wind brushed past him.


    he hungered. Putting his lower hand, the one with more fingers onto the ground, he gripped and uprooted some of the flowers which were bound into the earth. Before devouring them hole. Given his lineage being from a gods madness his feeding habits could be a bit nonsensical. Not that he would know considering there was no way to know, about the lineage, also considering the fact there was nothing to compare himself too, if he could understand how to compare himself.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    he cawed and cried, humans don¡¯t fair well in solitude especially not children that is why  his more feathered side shone. He wobbled in the fields, searching for some form of pray, but all he found was vegetation, truthfully he didn¡¯t need meet, as stated before he had nonsensical needs. But he didn¡¯t know that, he didn¡¯t know anything, all he felt was the base instinctual hunger that told him to hunt and gather. The stronger blood at the moment being that of the beast led him to naturally desire prey.


    But all the prey was no more. Devoured by the ever-present mold. For days his mind was that of a sad beast. With no prey, or beast, or anything. His young mind grew evermore fractured by his nature and his nurture.