Hell Birth

A naked woman is strapped to a table in the cellar, and she's about to become part of a disturbing ritual.

A putrid reek filled the aura of the room. A network of ancient pipe work dripped slowly into overflowing pails of water. The wood was swollen and water-logged, bowing from the excessive moisture. The ground was made of cracked and tarnished concrete. The walls were covered in mold and grime, adding to the filthiness of this cellar. This was a revolting, all-encompassing atmosphere of woe; a woman shrieked.

Her extremities strained as she pulled tight against the ropes that bound her. Like a fish, she flopped and flailed, her naked body smacking against the old wooden table. She cried out. “It’s coming!”

He emerged from a dark corner in the cellar, appearing devilish in the light of the swinging hook lamp. He wore a filthy white undershirt tucked into old blue jeans. He was whistling a soft tune as he approached the nude and pregnant woman. At the base of the table, he bent and picked up a large leather apron. He put it on.

She continued to push and strain, hollering out as sweat poured down her face, neck and breasts. “Help me!”

“Shhhh, breathe sweetheart.” He whispered as he ran his fingers through her soft hair. He pulled up a metal stool and positioned himself between her legs.

“Daddy, it hurts so much.” She managed to get out before more screams took over. He held back tears; he hated seeing her in agony.

“I know hun, I know.” He reached a hand out and gripped her knee. She continued to cry as the labor pains shot throughout her body. He reached down into a toolbox, which rested next to the table. He rustled inside it a little. “Ok, I need you to push sweetie.”

“Daddy…”

“Push, darling. You need to push.”

“I want to go to a hospital.”

“This is not an option, sweetie. You know what the hospital will do. We take care of our own, now I need you to listen to me and push.”

“Oh god!” she pushed. Her wails pierced his eardrums. He felt his brain rattling inside his skull. The head began to crown. A smile plastered his face. He positioned his hands in place as the birth continued. He allowed the child to fall into them.

The baby cried out. It flailed its little arms and legs as it sucked in its first breath. She raised her head, desperately trying to see the baby. “Daddy, let me see.”

He ignored her, reaching into the toolbox. He pulled out some garden sheers and snipped the umbilical cord.

“It is a boy. Your first child is a boy.” He said excitedly. His daughter leaned up and smiled at her father.

“You mean our child.”

“That’s right baby…our child.”

“You can do it if you want.”

“No baby, you should do it.” He shook his head. “It is your first. With childbirth come great responsibilities.”

“We should do it together.” He didn’t need any more convincing.

“Ok.” He stood up and carried the baby over to a small steel table. He placed it on the cold surface as he returned to his daughter. He reached down to cut her ropes. “It is amazing to see you at this table. Your mother has given birth countless times on this exact table, as has your sister. Now you have become a woman, my sweet little girl.”

When the restraints were gone, she pulled her sore body off the table. She eagerly walked barefoot to the metal table. Her father was right behind her, his arms wrapping around her. She reached a hand back and rubbed his face as he kissed her neck. They looked at the little crying infant.

“He’s so beautiful.” She tried to hold back her tears.

“He is.” He wrapped her hand in his as he slowly guided it across the table to a hammer. She smiles as she runs her fingers over the small metal object. She felt a jolt of excitement throughout her body, similar to sexual arousal.

“I am wet.” She whispered as he blew into her ear.

“It is your first time. You will remember this forever.”

She wrapped her hand around the handle of the hammer, raising it high in the air. She felt his hand still wrapping around hers. Together they raised it above the crying infant.

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you, baby.”

 And with this the two of them slammed the hammer down onto the baby. Its cries instantly ceased as the skull cracked open. Blood and brain matter spilled out from the hole and onto the table. They raised the hammer again and when it came down the abdomen burst like a piñata. The blood sprayed all over her nude body as she laughed hysterically. They brought the hammer down a few more times before dropping the weapon. She turned in his arms and looked excitedly into his eyes.

“I did it.”

“You did. And next time you can do it yourself.”

“I can’t wait for my next child.” He held her in the dark cellar, kissing her beneath the glow of the hook light.

 Upstairs, in the kitchen, the mother hummed a soft tune. She was cleaning dishes when she excitedly turned to the cellar door.

“It’s done. My little girl is now all grown up.”