Day 356 (T minus 9): Into the Belly of the Desiderasha

Here in the emptiness of time there is no end to the monstrosities and abominations this hell sets forth. I’m used to the surprises of new depravities and ever deeper recesses of evil. They tell you—those who dare speak against her—that the Desiderasha will exceed your worst expectations, but the horror in front of me wracked my mind and spirit with such anguish as I could never believe.

The Desiderasha grew bigger than a city, a biomass of bizarre shapes and tumorous growths of many colors, favoring blue and orange, but also reds, greens, yellows, and more. Many growths reminded me of half-formed monsters as if she’d grabbed them before birth and knitted them into herself. Creases and folds ran through her, tubes like the rocomant’s proboscis extended out from all over her. Some reached for creatures around her, many hundreds came and went. She picked them up, and they screamed as the tube crushed them and sucked them inside. She grabbed feeders, people, even one of her Children. Many of her tubes pierced her own hide to bore into herself and dig out something living inside her, again crushing, killing, and swallowing.

The scaly rats of the Crusties crawled all over her, especially along the creases, attaching themselves or scattering like shambly roaches. Feeders gathered all around her, many parts of her made for them, like the bowl of flesh holding oozy biomatter that the skreepers dipped into. Parts of her were smooth with a toxic sheen that nothing alive went near, and around these trickled rivulets of red fluid, draining off her body, then oozing up the hills and outward, one seeping just next to me. Long arms nearly the length of her amorphous body extended up and over the hills like a rubbery fungus, making tunnels into which her Children crawled.

All over she quivered, twitched, undulated, and steamed. Stifling fumes rose up from her, and they burned my nose, the rancid excrement stench flooding my throat and twisting my stomach. I was not the only one to vomit onto the ground.

Voices, excited and fearful, chattered all around, louder than a town market, many of them to my astonishment were happy. As the Desiderasha shifted, deep groaning and wheezing came from her, hollow whistles constantly increased and decreased. Screaming was constant. Some from victims outside, but some muffled screams from inside of her.

She had many openings into her along the ground. Some were favored by the Children, some by the kazhashas and other spawn, the feeders seemed to stay mostly outside, but some escorted men into areas that seemed to pulsate with greater excitement than the rest of her.

This giant obscenity was the Queen of this world and had driven all forces of earth for as long as man can remember. Myth tells us that mankind desired her and called her forth from the abyss into nature to express their dominion and glory over the world.

I tell you, if man desires this, then man himself is the devil.

I looked down upon her and trembled. I could only stare and think, ‘Enta is here. Enta is here!’

I’ve mentioned the Desiderasha many times, but let me help you understand what this monstrous she-demon is. She claims to replenish and proliferate life throughout the world to enhance living experience and bring the earth to greater heights of glory, and anyone who objects to it are enemies of life and self-fulfillment. That is why the warlords never attack the feeders—the feeders fulfill the will of the Desiderasha, and to do damage to that would bring an army of her Children upon them.

Most of mankind believes in her and worships her as the savior of the world, but you have followed me and seen the nature of her spawn and her corruption. They try to make her sound majestic and wonderful, but the thing that I observed then before me—that is what she is. Remember her well, and don’t be fooled.

I checked my semi-auto rifle and my handguns. I didn’t know how to gain entrance without her knowing, but I picked a particularly misshapen knob with a large entryway, feeders, people, and a few spawn using it, but far away from most of the Children.

I could not kill the Desiderasha. I could never win a battle against her. I didn’t know how to find my Enta, or even if I could get her free, but I would not stop until I did.

I started down the hill, walking as if I belonged there, the crowd of endless diversity an effective cover.

A creature shaped like a round loaf of bread tried to wrap around my leg. I kicked it and sent it knocking over a vedom’s stack of rocks, causing him to bare his fangs. A look down the barrel of my pistol quieted him. A group of nine Children of the Desiderasha, reds and yellows, jostled through the crowd and neared the entry I’d chosen, near enough I could see the skin stretched over their heads out of place with their features. I veered left in search of another entry. The further in, the more the feeders seemed to react to me, a pure human being not belonging in this place.

I plunged into a big crowd of calaramites, feeders who looked normal, though their method of exchanging deenay is grotesque. Still they growled amongst themselves, knowing I wasn’t one of them. Brandishing knife and pistol, I stayed low and watched a few of the Children go by along the front, a green and two orange.

When I lost sight of them I moved toward a random opening, and I broke from the mob of calaramites. One of the oranges defecated at the edge of them and saw me. I pretended not to care and trotted toward a pririli tent, a large one they used to feed in private. Glancing back, the orange came my way, so I ducked inside.

About ten of the pririli huddled together in the middle, whatever they did, I couldn’t see. I hissed for their attention, and they pulled apart, long tentacles rolled up and snapped into the side of their heads. I pointed my pistol at them and motioned them to the ground with my knife hand. Other than a few strained grunts, they settled to the floor and stayed quiet.

I could see a vague shadow of the orange through the tent flap. It stood there for a long count, and I thought it might leave, but it suddenly opened the flap and poked its head in. With all my strength, I swung my knife up into its jugular and twirled it to scramble its throat. It choked and pulled back, but I grabbed it by the his arm skin, heaved him into the tent, pushed him to the ground, and stabbed him in the neck until he stopped moving.

The pririli chittered, getting panicky. I raised the dripping knife and hissed. “Stay quiet. No one enters or leaves until nightfall.”

They snarled at me, and I doubted they would wait for a ten count, so I wiped my knife on the ground, sheathed it, and stepped out of the tent, heading for the opening at a brisk pace. I should have done so earlier, for it seemed to cause less concern the less I lingered.

I stepped into the opening, some of the bread-loaf creatures waddled ahead, but they ignored me. I was inside the Desiderasha! I wondered how much she could sense the creatures inside her. The spongy tunnel walls pulsed and undulated with life, gurgling and trickling. In the distance echoed the splatching footsteps of some unknown creature.

I kept going to get as far out of sight of the killing that just occurred as I could. I slowed to get a better look at the walls, realizing with dread what I saw. Distorted shapes of men smeared across the surface, tufts of hair, distorted mouths, eyes too misshapen to blink, though they tried. Fingers, toes, noses and navels, the walls had absorbed and integrated them. I was loath to touch anything. As the eyes followed me, I wondered if their owners still saw with them.

Panic filled my chest. Oh, my beloved Enta. I prayed I wasn’t to late.

Roaring and screaming arose from outside. I was out of the line of sight, but I passed the little loaves at a run, heading toward the unknown horrors of the Desiderasha’s viscera.


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