Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27012445-20151002190136

There is something wrong with me. I cannot deny it anymore. I cannot pretend that everything is the same as it always has been. I can no longer keep my secret. We are such a close community here. We have all worked the land and built our homes together. We are more than just a community; we are a family. Now everyone looks at me like they know that something is not quite right with me. Some recoil and others simply look at me with curiosity or concern. As I pass friends and familiar faces, they attempt to greet me or engage in light banter, but I immediately pull away. They would be able to tell instantly I am different and I am dirty.

I love hearing my mother’s voice. It is so soft and soothing. She sings to me every day. She is everything to me. I would do anything for her. I hang on every word she speaks and comply with any instructions she gives without question. Only once, did I not listen to her voice; I had heard something else. For one brief moment I stopped listening to her voice, and that was all that it took. I can still hear her voice, but now there is another voice; a dark and malicious voice from within my head. I try to cry out to my mother to let her know about the stranger, but it restrains my ability to speak and forces me away from the sight of the others. It leads me further and further away; my mother totally unaware of my absence. It forces me to leave the safety of my community, imposing its will on my legs; one leg in front of the other, in front of the other. I struggle with a ferocity fueled by fear and panic against the dark force that holds and manipulates my limbs, but it continues to march me out into the forest. I try to scream for my mother, but it won’t allow me. I cannot hear my mother’s voice any longer.

It continues to guide me deeper and deeper into the forest, with no consideration for the vessel its controls; no rest or reprieve is granted to me. The canopy of the trees thickens as I am moved onward. It moans and mumbles in my head, growing louder with each and every step. In the grips of panic and desperation, I mount another show of resistance and concentrate with all of my might to regain control of my limbs and banish this trespasser from my mind. It simply laughs and lets me know it is much more than just a voice. I feel it moving in my head.

The pain in my head is causing flashes of light to explode in front of my eyes. My legs are stiff and beaten from the long and relentless trek. I have finally arrived at our destination. It is deeper in the forest than I have ever been. With a violent jerk, it forces down my head to face the leaves of an old tree. It forces my mouth open wider than what is naturally possible. With the force from its alien and insidious presence, it forces my mandibles to clamp down on the base of the stem of a leaf in an eternal grip of death. The pressure and pain in my head builds and builds. Its voice grows louder and louder with anticipation and glee. The light grows dimmer and dimmer. Just before that last of the light fades away, I can faintly hear the voice of my mother, singing in the distance. She sings a lullaby tom me as a fleshy stalk explodes from my head.

It reaches out and releases itself from the shell that was its womb; glad to be free of the constraints of the expendable form. Now, all it needs to do is grow and wait. Soon its spores will appear in great numbers. They will fruit all over its flesh and each will be released to find its own body for itself. They will travel on the currents of the air and across the lands listening for a voice of a mother. They search for her voice in hopes that others will listen to their voices instead. Just a moment listening to their song is all they need.

O. unilateralis only needs to sit in the remains of its former captive, and grow, and wait. 