I love only pigs.
I lust only for their lives,
The way they live.
I want to breed like them in the mud,
Shrieking, glad and free.
My rump up.
I want to wean all my children that I love so much,
Right at the same time,
A teat for each.
I want to revel in what people waste.
I want to eat their shit and believe it all a glorious victory.
While they make their wars,
While they kill themselves.
While I live.
It took a few moments before Eff realized Vanuva was not speaking to him.
Eff paused, listening to Vanuva’s voice in the cavern. It could have echoed, but it did not. It might have throbbed and cried out to him, begged him to stop, to leave her to rest and be dead. To finally leave her alone. But then, as Eff looked at the red blade hovering over his black boot, and he saw his green smile, and he saw the delicate carvings of entwined fire spirits in that hall above his head, all in that soiled metal blade… The best way to describe Vanuva’s disembodied voice came to him. It was a prayer. She was everywhere at once, in everything. In him.
“If you want me to save you, sweet-meat, take you back with me to the dark side of life… baby, I’m here.” Eff opened his arms, waited. Smirked.