Birth by Hawra’a Khalfan

She smiles at the man sitting across from her at the café.

Oh, what a beautiful man, she thinks.

Hunting down her next prey gives an exuberant feeling,

She examines him, to see if he fits the code. 




            Is that a dimple?

A black haired, dark bearded creature, the perfect prey.

His big chest calls for her.

     Yum, he should be a tasty one.

She goes over to talk to him,

And sooner rather than later, he is devoured.

The creases on her forehead tell the unsaid

Blood dripping

Love no longer matters

Life no longer matters

All she wants to do is rip his heart out and feed on it

Enjoying the taste of his blood, his flesh.

As tough as it is to chew on a muscle, she has managed with exaggerated movements of her jaw.

She chews and chews, then aches for more.

She licks her blood-covered lips as she smiles and thinks about how her plan never fails her,

Step one

Study him

Step two

Trap him using the one thing she will ultimately feast upon,

And then finally,

     It’s dinner time.


She has devoured yet another one.

The taste of his blood

The texture of his heart on her tongue,

He was okay, next time with a side of veggies, though.


She moves on,

And on,

And on.

Her heart? Once as holy as the Black Stone, as sacred as its home.

Medusa’s eyes got to it, though.

     She would be proud.


A smile creeps on her lips as she envisions the next creature that will belong to her

The next person she is going to give the gift of life.

This is her way of giving Birth to these lifeless creatures.

This is her way of making their deaths meaningful.

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