It was pitch black and the moon was the only illumination.
I was walking, nay, floating toward a make shift house.
Chicken wires for windows, definitely like those popup sari- sari stores in the locality.
I peered in like a kid with no TV at home.
My eyes spanned to the right to a nurse in a raggedy uniform.
Her crumpled cap by her feet on the floor.
Her upper body slumped on a white office table, one arm stretched to accommodate her pillow-less head, the other bent at an angle. She looked dead tired.
The sight right in front of me was four babies lined in a row.
They were awake and moving as babies do.
I must have stumbled on a nursery.
A nursery in the middle of nowhere.
I realized there is no electricity, not even petromax, gasp, no candles too.
I looked back at the babies before me.
They were all laid on black and blue peebles.
Bare New born babies right there on the wet ground.
I seem to be near a river as I start to hear sounds akin to the lonely brooks I had been to.
Now I feel the wind.
I studied the babies one by one.
The one on the farthest right looked a faint shade of purple.
Wrinkly skin, there was no sex organ.
As I quickly shot each one a look, all of them didn’t have a penis or a vagina.
The second baby from the right looked like a funny shade of pale pink.
Like that of pig skin only much softer.
The third baby was the one that triggered this writing.
I just thought my eyes were tricking me into thinking that a part of the baby’s neck was missing.
I tipped-toed and saw a bloodless almost severed head.
So thats why the head looked unnaturally too far from the body.
Bent like a wilted flower.
I can now clearly see the cleanly sliced neck.
It looked like someone was cutting cake.
Baby’s neck sliced like a piece of cake.
The baby, alive and moving the way they all do, revealed by its movements the mess made after the possible slice.
Pink matter like fish intestines where on the crevices of the half severed neck.
I could not look on to the the last baby.
In my dream, my stomach churned and it woke me up.
To kill the feeling I just had to write it down.