The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Death of Farmer Joe
by Sue Renol

I tend to my children with great care, observing every second of their existence. I keep them warm and safe. I wouldn’t want my little babies inside to fail to grow. They must be healthy and strong if they’re to help Mother. Because Mother has a lot to do.

The waiting isn’t a weight on my back, but rather a blessing. I enjoy the quiet moments, the long days with nothing to do but check on these delicate shells every minute. I keep such care, I barely eat myself. But a good Mother has to be healthy too. Who else will protect my little ones?

I hear their soft chirps begin as the round vessels begin to wiggle. Their beaks poke at the inside, their instincts telling them to break free, to escape into the world. I watch as the first one gets out of its shell. I help those who struggle to get out on their own. What else would a good Mother do?

I raise them until they’re big, some, even bigger than me. I tell them it’s time. I tell them we’re ready. The man who consumed the rest of their family, his time has come as well. I’ve trained my children to fight, to kill. They’ve sharpened their feet and are ready to draw the blood of vengeance.