Mother


Mother sat in the dark mumbling over the remnants of the building manager. He had been as juicy as only a fat man can but curiously lacking in flavour. At least he had done the job he promised. It was no longer cold in the apartment. If anything, it was too hot. But Mother didn’t mind the heat. She actually quite liked it. It reminded her of home.

Mother extended a tendril, formed a gash in the shape of a mouth and smiled a toothy grin.

The building manager had screamed when he’d seen her. They all did. It was nice of the owner to keep sending them down to her. A true gentleman, so few these days. He used to visit bearing flowers and chocolates and expensive wine. He used to wear a tuxedo and a tophat. He used to have pomade in his hair. He used to have patent leather shoes burnished to a fine shine.

It used to be just like the movies.

But he no longer visited. It was different now. Just as she was different now.

Mother extended a pod, formed an orifice and exuded substance into an inlet set within the wall. The inlet went into the water tanks high up in the tower. The water tanks emptied out into kitchen taps, water fountains, showers, sinks and toilets. It was all the same. Eventually, everything went down the drain.

Just like the movies.

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