The Mysterious Adventures Of Kiko

A house sat alone at the edge of farmland. Where the land there dipped slightly, the damp never leaving the soil even during the dry season. It wasn't old enough to be forgotten, just abandoned. The red paint had peeled in long strips, exposing the swollen wood beneath.

The walls didn’t quite meet cleanly at the corners anymore. Thin seams ran between them where cold air slipped through. The roof sagged in the middle, and a broken satellite dish hung off one side, tilted toward the sky.

Inside the house, the air smelled of stale smoke and damp fabric. A narrow table leaned against one wall, one leg cut shorter to stop it rocking. A chipped ceramic bowl sat on it, filled with cigarette butts and grey ash; they hadn’t been there long.

In the corner was a cracked TV; the screen was caved in, the fractured glass resembling a spiderweb. Tangled wires trailed down behind it, plugged into a socket that no longer worked.

At the far end of the small house was a bedroom. The bed creaked under the woman’s weight, the mattress was thin and worn. Her long black hair clung to her skin in wet strands plastered across her forehead.

Her features were sharp, cheekbones pronounced, with lips dry and cracked from hard breathing. Sweat ran down the curve of her jaw, slipping into the hollow of her throat. Her swollen belly pressing against the thin mattress, every contraction making her flinch.

The ceiling light flickered, the low buzz filling the room, the shadows in the room pooled unnaturally in the corners.

Outside a distant road hummed faintly, headlights passing somewhere far away, but none of it reached here. The windows were nothing but dark panes, reflecting nothing back, holding in a deeper darkness.

Everything leaned inward, toward this room, toward the bed.

The woman on the bed gasped, her breath ragged, fingers tearing into the thin sheets as another contraction rose. Sweat clung to her skin, soaking through the fabric of her shirt.

A man sat beside her. His short black hair was cut close to his scalp, slightly uneven at the edges, as if trimmed hastily or with little care. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, the skin puffy and lined from too many sleepless nights.

His face was lean, the cheekbones sharp, his jaw was set tight as he watched, looking faintly annoyed.

The flickering light caught his face in pieces, but the shadows clung to him too, they gathered at his shoulders, pooling at his feet like he was already half submerged.

“We should kill it after,” he said, voice casual, a faint smile pulling at his mouth.

The woman let out a breathless laugh, between gasps. “Why kill something that can be sold?”

Another contraction hit, her body arched, a scream tearing free.

The shadows became more dense. The dark along the floor thickened, like tar pulled by an unseen tide. It pressed against the bed frame, climbing higher, until it clung to the mattress

The flickering light dimmed further, the light slowly being devoured by the shadows.

The walls seemed closer.

The air heavier.

Then suddenly with a loud scream from the woman a baby girl slipped into the world.

The shadows stilled.

She did not cry, the baby's chest rose and fell in a calm rhythm. Her eyes opened slowly, staring blankly at the woman.

The woman dragged in a breath, exhaustion giving way to cruelty. Her lips parted, she was about to speak but all that came out was a wet gurgling sound.

Black liquid spilled from her mouth, thick and heavy. It clung as it fell, stretching in strands before snapping, dragging down her chin in slow, sticky trails.

She gagged, hands flying to her throat, nails digging into skin, but more came, from her nose, from the corners of her eyes.

It pushed out steadily, like something being forced from within, her body trembled as she tried to breathe around it.

Her eyes widened.

But it was too late.

Beside her, the man jolted, his hand also snapped to his throat, fingers pressing hard as if he could force air through.

He coughed, black sludge oozing from his mouth, then again, harsher, white hot panic causing him to thrash voilently.

The shadows at his feet climbed. He tried to stand, but his legs gave.

He dropped to his knees, the sound was consumed by the pressing darkness. The shadows around him deepened, pooling higher, consuming him.

The baby watched in silence.