Masia couldn’t believe that this was happening to her. She could feel him writhing within the bowels of her gut. His arms drove sharp sparks through her abdomen, like the needles of a voodoo princess, turned into dark magic. This was somehow pleasurable despite its pain. She could feel the warm breath as it spewed onto her insides, heating her lungs as if they were mere air balloons, filled and waiting to rise into the deep blue nothing that is called sky. The sweat stood out on her flesh, little droplets of icy-lava springing out through each individual pore. Masia’s fingers grasped the floor, trying to pull out the wood, trying to drive it into her heart, anything to end this pain that was so confusing, one minute comforting and making her feel worthful, The next feeling like something that wants to break loose and open up her stomach…break it open and see the torn ripped muscle as it protruded from the belly that was now swollen and awfully throbbing. 

Looking down Masia could see the arms and legs as they shaped her oddly, odd ways that would not be normal under other cases; this was special in a gothic, dark and strangely beautiful way. In her throat she could feel the saliva as it started to boil, as it began to bubble with the contempt of someone about to let go of everything from the inside into the out. Her tongue felt slick and it slid across her lips, within her mouth it floated through the bubbling broth that filled the orifice.

And then it came. The movement inside her stopped, suddenly as if her heart had been stabbed as previously thought of. But that wasn’t it, she knew what it was with a stinking suspicion. She felt as the enormous ball of form worked its way up, as it began to slide towards her chest the tears sprung from her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks, they gathered into the corner of her eyes, and landed on the floor, little puddles of the strain and pain that was inside her body. Her virgin soul. She could feel her throat ripping; tearing under the pressure of the arms as He tried to climb out of her arms first; fingers grasping at the tiny muscles that controlled the spasms that now rocked her esophagus. 

All over the floor, He came in a rush of vomit and blood. The baby was smaller than it had felt. Masia licked her lips and tasted the copper of her own blood as it wetted her tongue. He lay on the floor, trying desperately to break out of the placenta-like purple covering that engulfed his tiny features. One last spasm broke from Masia's lips and broke out over the baby. This small amount bursting the covering as though it were a mere bubble blown by a child on a warm Easter’s evening. In a way this was Easter, a new Easter. He stood, hands on hips imitating peter-pan. Masia’s face was a mixture of pride and fright. Her mind was even more confused. Pulled into both directions. He was pink with the still blood of his ‘mother’. And he uttered a few words; Masia looked with shock and fright. She looked with love and care. 

She stood now, holding out her arms that were scratched and torn from the horrible ordeal, holding them open to the child. Welcoming Him into her heart as her own. And unbeknownst opening Him into a world that would come to know his name well. Come to know his name as a part of them, as a little corner within each and everyone of them. And they would come to know and dream of him as they’re own Lucifer, the god of all devils here on what we call earth. Lucifer…hear the name as they ring out of the mouths of virgin un-made virgin mothers all over the world.