Birth of the new resurrection


As he staggered through the remains of the hospital hallway, a faint sound reached out from some unseen distance, from some corner of the void. As though it were the damned grabbing at the wings of an angle from beyond the torment of a darkened hell, it gripped tight, his attention in horrid desperation; unwilling to let go. As he slowly sought out the place where the sound festered, the numbness of his mind grew; the weakness continued to eat away. Leaning against the cold tile, the stinging chill nibbled on his skin. As he came upon a long forgotten doorway, he'd found the place that harbored the sound. Slowly pushing the door open, the stench rotten flesh greeted him, forcing its way into the deep pit of his stomach, as though it were try to consume him from the inside. Gazing down on the bed before him, lie a once living being, a creature of soul and mind; a woman who's life had once been one of hope and faith, who's dreams rested upon the child growing inside her, now the thing that was eating away at the womb that once harbored it. In a cradle of torn flesh and intestines, what remained was now a child of the damned. Into the night, its shrill cry echoed.

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