Monday, 4 March 2013

Dinner is served

Plump and strong, shiny and new, the baby takes its first reluctant step on the table, reaching for the bowl of glistening grapes. Its feet wobble and it falls on all fours. Twisting its tiny features into an expression of focused determination, it takes long, hard looks at each limb. With pearls of sweat on its wrinkled forehead and constantly moving lips, it looks up and lifts its frame on trembling knees. The baby’s on its way! Growing more and more confident, it finally reaches its prize. Greedily, it stuffs its mouth with fruit and lies on its back, cooing and giggling. It lies there, content with its hard-earned victory.
  
As its eyes start to glaze over, the baby turns its attention to its audience: their pale, stretched faces barely visible beneath their black cowls; their eyes slow-burning flickers of amber; their tongues gently lashing through the air; their twisted claws smoothly scratching the surface of the table. They wait.
   
The baby sleeps.
   
Dinner is served.   

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