The lethal child

“That doesn’t make sense. You answer in riddles.” Peter said, picking a hole into the deck wood with the tip of his rapier.

“Look kid. I don’t know what you wanna hear.”

“I just figured we have something in common or something like that.”

“Course we do. ” I said “we’re all gonna die together. Pretty soon too I imagine.”

“You can’t scare me.”

“What the hell were you doing in that bar?” I asked.


“We’re out here cause I had to–”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He said. He sulked and stabbed the wood.

“Do you even… Those ‘people’ we’re gonna take you, probably rape you and almost certainly butcher, cook and serve you.”

“Why were you there?”

“Apparently to save you.”

“I did ask for that,” he said and stabbed his sword into the wood so hard it stood, and he stood facing me.

“I thought you looked like my dad.”

“Well I’m not.” I said

“I thought you were, and I was gonna kill you.” He said, plain and simple. With twist and tug he pulled the blade from the board stood.

I watched the emotions, trust hate and curiosity unfurling like different hues of molten wax, melding and curling, never fully at rest, blending at best.

If I could have had a child, for this to be him would have been, well, eventual. I’d have been awarded this rare gift, which I’d have abandoned. And perhaps he would have been best to finished what he’d started. Made a place for himself on Carcass. I was never a fan favorite among the scabs. I’m surprised we left alive in fact.

“You regret not getting to.” I said. “Getting to kill me.”

He remained silent.

“Look kid. Dad’s are let downs. They just are. sometime’s you know ’em. Sometimes you don’t. Mine was complicated. You’re better off not knowing”

“Tell me about him.”

“He was… He had a mental breakdown and became a completely different person.”


“So it sucks. Sorry kid.”

“It almost feels like sacrilege to say, humans are flawed. We were made with this big gaping fault, and all that greed and zeal, all that arrogance and selfishness is what killed the world. As long as humanity remains human, this avarice, this need to own and exploit and watch it burn, this infestation of idiot top predators, we are, the festering wound, we will be cancer. Ironic, huh.

“I honestly don’t care if I die, because I’m calling this borrowed time. I suggest you do to.” I finished

He stood sullen and alone like a scorpion in a shoe.

“Don’t say we’re gonna die. You’re scaring her,” Peter said and acknowledged where Windy sat against the Port side railing.

I looked over and she glanced up, having been listening to the whole conversation. We stared at one another for a shared breathe of sad despair.

“Pete, Windy could tell you stories that would make my skin crawl. Shit, I’m half terrified to hear all her stories.”

“You wanna hear what people sound like when they’re getting skinned? That the story you want?” She said.

He watched her, motionless.

I was on a cruise ship for eight years. My Brothers Killed their first before we even ran low on food. They enjoyed. They believed they were exempt from punishment. They would frequently tell me that we were abandoned because god thought we were weak. And they would show him. It made them cruel.


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