The Son of a Peach - Short Story.

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It was a dark dreary night. The kind of night that settles in around you like a jacket stained with the refuse of this stinking city. Long had I been on the beat now. Tramping up and down deserted alleys. Eyes slipping from the garish neon signs advertising the latest in pharma-poppers to brawn and beauty enhancements.

That wasn't what he was here for however, he had been hearing of people being left in destitute houses. Strange items stuffed into eye sockets, mouths, anywhere they would fit really. This interested him. Why were the deaths so indiscriminate. There seemed no pattern. The poor were falling alongside the rich. The strong with the weak. Hell, one of the latest to go down was a prominent figure in the heirachy of this scum filled town. Rich beyond measure, guards for days, and yet.. no defense against this invader.

But no one was talking. Windows were shuttered and doors barred as soon as he mentioned this. Even the uptight sawbones down at the morgue wouldn't even let him investigate the bodies. Such was the role he was forced to play. Crawling through the broken shards on his knees. Slogging the streets night after night as the enforcer of this wretched place.

Eyes, he felt them on him. That sixth sense you honed to a razors edge after walking as many miles as he had in such unforgiving territory. He wasn't one to give the game away however, and turning down a bisecting street took a quick step into a shadowed doorway. Disturbing a drunken bum and a few rats in his haste.

"Who, wuh.. wuhh?" came the slurred murmurs of the unfortunate. Slumped across a bin filled with what was likely his life savings. Some filthy rags and faded memories. A bottle of the locals finest Synthol rolling along the cracked pavement. Spilling its precious cargo onto the ground.

Nothing..

There was nothing there..

Comms-bead in his clapped out combi-hat crackling now with the sound of panicked voices. His comrades. And as luck would have it the building was not that far. There had been reports of multiple victims this time and this led flight to his feet. Breath chuffing hard as he scampered along as quietly as his rickety frame would allow. Unfortunately by the time he arrived the doors and windows had already been broken in, house looted of all the good and some of the bad. His comrades nowhere to be seen.

Stepping into the shadowy hallway as once you were declared deceased you had no need for power, the sickly sweet aroma assaulted his senses. There was something on the wall, he could see it shining in the light from the entryway back at him. It looked tacky, not blood... not the right colour or smell to it. It looked like.. juice.

Not wanting to disturb the integrity of the already damaged scene he trudged his way up the stairs, coming to a landing where he saw the first of the slumped over members of this.. snort household. Mouth and eyes open, but there was that telltale orb there, he couldn't let this one slip away and so reached down, tugging and pulling on it till it popped free.

It looked like a brain, a tiny root dangling from beneath it.. No, this was.. he wracked his memory of the books he used to read, before they burned them all.. a Seed.

Still that sense of eyes watching him.. he just couldn't shake it as he dropped the moist pod into a plastilock baggie just in case the whitecoats needed it fresh. Patting his jacket pocket reassuringly, he continued his way up the stairs.

Drawing his patented enforcer™ pistol he primed himself for confrontation, deep breaths slowing to quell the rising anxiety along with the sickly sweet stench as he reached the final landing, the last closed door behind him and that damned irresistible smell.

A creak, a twist of the wrist, and the entirety of the scene was revealed to him. Multiple citizens and each of his brethren laying about in some kind of ritualistic fashion. Side by side in a giant circle filling the room. Oddly arranged so that the heads alternated with the feet. Making the best possible use of the limited floor space to keep clear the center. A thick branching pillar was growing, covered in protrusions of some kind.

Plop.. plop.. plop. Came the soft wet sounds from all around him now. The writhing pillar shivering as it shed it's cargo. Dropping those pods, no.. fruit all about. They moved with purpose, a slow, relentless movement towards the forms laid about. Pushing into gaping slack mouths gently but firmly. Though oddly enough the people seemed to respond contrary to the appearance of being expired. Soft groans and muffled shuddering breaths as mouths clamped down on the gifts of the tree.

Legs shaking and hands twitching he made a single step backwards. Misjudging the distance to that damnable landing in this half-light. And with a sickening stomach churning tilt. Fell backwards. His head slamming on the edge of a step with a dull thud. The last thing he saw before his vision fading out was that damnable rolling pod. No. That peach easing towards him across the floor. Purpose in it's movements. Stretch marks and nicks in its hastily grow skin giving it an almost malevolent visage.

A final thought as the tendrils invaded his throat.. "Son of a bitch, I'm killed by a peach."

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Source deviant art http://www.deviantart.com/art/evil-peach-171400014

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For the love of peaches I write this story, inspired by a picture @neoxian or maybe @aggroed discovered and posted in MSP Discord. And I just kinda ran with it.

Hope it wasn't too oddball or dark for you! but this peach was supposed to be evils!

Thanks for your attention dearest readers, look forward to hearing what you thought about this in the comments below, much love. <3

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