True Fiction (Volume One)

By Avtar Simrit

The Dying Fetus that started it all is back with a vengeance!

True Fiction is an ongoing collection of short fiction and novellas. Volume One consists of three novellas that make up one crazy story. It begins with "Dying Fetus," a simple tale of a high school boy who gets his girlfriend pregnant, but decides that he is

• Language: English
• Publisher: Apocalyptic Rhymes
• Release date: Dec 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737725763

Avtar Simrit

Avtar Simrit is a modern mystic and an artist. His writings and art are inspired by mystical inquiry as well as all inner and outer journeys. Avtar's main artistic mediums are the written word, Hip Hop music, and video. To check out his music and other work, visit the author's website: www.mc-pan.com.

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True Fiction (Volume One)

True Fiction (Volume One)

ALSO BY AVTAR SIMRIT

A Dream of True Time

Break Every Chain

Shackled to Creation

True Fiction (Volume One)

Avtar Simrit

publisher logo

Apocalyptic Rhymes

Copyright © 2021 by Avtar Simrit

All illustrations by Avtar Simrit

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Printing, 2021

For Peter Hoffer, wherever you are.

I love you more than you will ever know.

Contents

Dying Fetus

Dying Fetus Part One

Dying Fetus Part Two Fillet-O-Fetus

Dying Fetus Part Three Fetus In Sheep's Clothing

Cry-oh-Genics

Cry-oh-Genics Part One

Cry-oh-Genics Part Two Fermentation

Cry-oh-Genics Part Three Wedding

Surrogate Motherfucker

I

II

III

IV

Surrogate Motherfucker Part Two

Cruci-FIX-ion

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

Surrogate Motherfucker Part Three

reZ-ERectiOn

I

II

III

im with alice

Author's Note:

part 1: my struggle

"In a dark time,

the eye begins to see."

- Theodore Roethke

"The most beautiful thing we can

experience is the mysterious."

- Albert Einstein

"One does not discover new lands

without consenting to lose sight of

the shore for a very long time."

- Andre Gide

"Creation is only the projection into

form of that which already exists."

- Shrimad Bhagavatam

"The psychotic drowns in the same waters

in which the mystic swims with delight."

- Joseph Campbell

Dying Fetus

penis abortion

Dying Fetus Part One

I’m so tired. So everything is skewed and distorted beyond all hope of repair. My mind has been separated down the middle with a decomposing hand. My left brain and right brain no longer communicate because the people in my head just won’t leave me alone. Why is it that the nonsensical is more meaningful than the logical sensible things that everyday life brings about? What is there to interpret from a sky being blue? It is much more fun to think of a purple sky with a plaster mold of Jesus screaming for his dying mother to come and change his goddamn diaper. I mean, where’s the fun in the threshold of pain when the most excitement comes from bringing arteries to the surface of the unique? But no one really cares about that when they are on the floor slowly dying. For those who want it, does death come slowly or quickly? I’m straying from the point. The story. The story is what really matters. You want to know how it all took place. Just try and stay with me. Okay…

Oh, fuck me! Oh, yes! Yes!

The screaming of pleasure was all that could be heard, and the only thing of any substantial value was water, blood, and semen. Water dripped off their seething, naked bodies as Peter thrusted deep into Ashley. Blood seeped from her wet vagina. The spray of the shower created a natural lubricant so that their bodies could slip and slide over one another’s.

Are you sure this is okay? Peter gasped between thrusts.

Yeah, Ashley said as she moaned. I can’t—ahhh, ahhh—get pregnant when I’m on the rag.

That was all the reassurance that Peter needed so that he could shoot his load straight into the dark depths of Ashley’s being. As the blood ran down his shaft and legs, Peter was experiencing indescribable pleasure. He never wanted it to end. It was as if the world had stopped and everyone was watching his every move. Like at a baseball game, every pitch Peter gave was caught with equal fury and pleasure. Nothing was real. Everything was surreal, like a painting except that everything was painted with red watercolors. The cosmos had ceased to exist and the earth had quit rotating. All that was left was one mutual orgasm, shared together in one final moment of red, juicy, and delicious ferocity. And then nothing.

The time has come for people to know the truth. Everything that we have been taught about the world is a lie. Life is what we create it to be. And if we create a life that’s dead, that is what the outcome will be. The choice between pro-life and pro-choice is a difficult one to make because who are we to decide what to do with another life. Can we create other people’s lives, or do we only create our own lives? We live how we choose, but do we have the right to choose who lives? In the black void silence of space there may be a god. I don’t know. But if he is out there, is that right reserved only for Himself? Is it just his finger that can squash babies that are still inside the womb? Either way, people make a choice.

They were only blacked out for a couple of seconds, but when they came to, they were lying on the bottom of the shower in a puddle of blood and semen.

Wow, Peter said. That was the best sex ever.

Yeah, Ashley said. She could hardly speak and she was completely oblivious to any other form of life in that room other than her and Peter, but there was one. Just a second ago, when they were blacked out, a new life was created. The seed had been planted, and it was time to make a harvest.

I wonder if this mixture tastes good? Peter said.

I don’t know. Why don’t you taste it?

Time has altogether stopped for me and all that is left is blind confidence. Blind confidence can be a good thing or a bad thing. But it can cloud judgment and make a person do things that they would not normally do when their sane mind is running. Blind confidence is a hard thing to get rid of. But when a person does, it dies hard—taking the eyes along with it.

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew that it was disgusting. I was sitting at the lunch table at school. Peter was across from me and Polish Joe was beside me.

Why the hell is your girlfriend vomiting into the trash can over there? I asked. I looked over and brown liquid was seeping from between her lips. Peter shrugged.

Who gives a shit? he said.

Do you think she’s pregnant, dude? I asked.

Hell, nah, man. And if she was, when that baby pops out, I’ll fuckin’ stab it in the face! Haahaaa! Peter laughed hysterically. Does this count as blind confidence? Blind confidence that you will stab a baby in the face? It does seem pretty blind though—blind of the consequences.

Did you fuck her with a condom? Joe asked as he chomped away at his huge Polish sandwich.

Yeah, but she was having her period at the time. So she couldn’t get pregnant, Peter said.

That is the sickest thing I have ever heard, Joe said.

You know that a girl can still get pregnant even when they are having their period, right? I asked.

No, they can’t! Peter said with the same blind confidence. She’s just being a bitch. She’s sick, that’s all.

Ashley walked over to Peter with a terrified look on her face. Peter looked up at her.

What is it? he said.

What do you think! She screamed. Everyone in the cafeteria was looking now.

I don’t know.

I’m fucking pregnant, you asshole! She smacked him in the face.

What the fuck was that for, you pregnant fuck bitch?! Peter stood up and punched her in the arm.

You’re an asshole! Ashley lunged at Peter and he grabbed her wrists so that she couldn’t hit him.

I’ll rip that fucking fetus right out of you, you sadistic whore! Peter screamed. By this time two security guards were pulling them off of each other as they screamed insults to the dying wind.

You bleeding cunt, Peter screamed. I can’t have a fucking baby. I’m gonna take a knife and cut that out of you! It’s dead already—by my hand!

You can fucking die for all I care! Ashley cried. I don’t give a shit about you. I’ll kill this baby myself!

That was the last thing I heard before they were hauled off to the dean’s.

The sound of a dying fetus is hard to describe if you haven’t heard it for yourself. It is kind of a high-pitched yowl more than anything. A more distorted version of a cat’s yowl. A guttural ahhhhccchhhhhhcccchhhh! It is just one continuous sound also. It is like the baby has infinite lung capacity because it can make that noise for five minutes at a time. Maybe it is because their body is already dead, but their mind still functions so that they are not restrained by normal body limitations. As a fetus dies, it’s body and face contorts to the point that it is almost unrecognizable. Sometimes babies are sacrificed, and these are the ideal ones for the sacrifice because they look evil and usually come from a whorish mother. And they are usually ripped from the womb months before they are due—forced abortion.

Tough times call for people to think illogically. The stars and blackness of space end up oozing out of a gaping asshole to be sucked up by the vacuum of life. People’s lives are always full of stress, and different people use different techniques to deal with it. Some come up with nonsensical statements that they can try to decipher some meaning from. But most people just ooze bluish-black semen from every pore and then writhe around on the floor screaming for someone to stopper up the black hole which is their place in this world. In short, no one knows what the fuck is going on, and some tend to deal with stress by sacrifice.

After school I decided to stop by Peter’s house to see how he was reacting to this whole mess. I got to Peter’s house and saw that he and Ashley were talking on the couch together. I did not want them to notice that I was there so I crouched under the window in order to hear what they were saying, but also make sure they couldn’t see me.

I’m killing the fetus right now, Ashley said.

The fuck are you talking about?

I’m taking antibiotics so that the baby will die and I won’t have to worry about it.

But the fetus does not belong to us, Peter said.

Then who does it belong to?

I had an epiphany and I talked to the Darkness and was enlightened by the information that I must sacrifice our child to Satan because it really belongs to him.

You’re losing it, Ashley said but she cut herself off by blowing chunks all over the living room carpet.

Look what you did, you stupid bitch. Peter slapped the back of her head and kicked her to the ground where she lay in a pool of her own vomit. She groaned. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the kitchen with him.

All right, you cunt, Peter said as he dragged her by her hair. The heavens have split just for me and the earth splits for the fetus. Jesus and Satan clash whenever a new life is up for grabs. There is always a struggle between who gets to lay claim to an innocent life. But time must stop and blood must pour from the clouds as everything stops to accommodate the death of a wet, juicy fetus! Do you understand, bitch? Peter slammed Ashley’s face against the refrigerator and then threw her to the floor. He opened the fridge that was smeared with blood and got out a gallon of milk and three slices of cheddar cheese.

Peter crouched down on the ground and pulled her head back and mouth open. He attempted to pour the milk down her throat. Drink it! DRINK IT! NOW!

Peter…Peter— Ashley tried to speak, but again her speech was blocked by another rush of vomit spewing out of her throat hole all over Peter.

Damn bitch! Peter smacked her in the face. Peter ain’t here. I’m just using his body, you stupid dyke. He laughed and started unpackaging the cheese. Peter peeled Ashley’s jeans off and threw them on the kitchen table. Peter spit on Ashley’s bare pussy and rubbed the spit around to get her vagina wet. Peter stuck the first slice of cheese in his mouth and chewed it into a fine paste. When it was watery enough for Peter, he put his lips to her pussy lips and spat all the cheese into her shaft. Ashley made a small noise but couldn’t move because of all the blows to her head. Peter did the same thing with the other two slices of cheese.

I will fill you like a christmas turkey on thanksgiving, Peter said.

By this time, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. I didn’t know if I should go in and save Ashley or just watch what was about to unfold. I decided to watch a little longer.

Feed me, bitch! Peter ripped Ashley’s shirt open, exposing a pair of succulent breasts. He wrapped his lips around Ashley’s right nipple and sucked. He closed his eyes and sucked as if he was in paradise. Then his eyes opened and burned with the most loathsome fire I had ever seen.

Fine, he said. If you won’t give me milk, I will have your blood. He plunged his head down on her boob again, but this time his teeth ripped deep into her nipple. He ripped her whole nipple off in his mouth and swallowed it whole. Blood poured out of the hole that he had made. He put his lips down to the fountain and drank from the spring of life.

This was one fucked up relationship they had going on here. I almost went into the house when I saw this but I stayed back for some reason.

I’ll kill you. I swear I will, Peter said. He stood up and walked over to a cabinet. He pulled out a long slender knife. He licked the blade and looked down at Ashley.

This has your name on it, he said. The black wet abyss of the womb sometimes has to be split so that one can claim what is rightfully his. Prepare yourself, the fetus is mine! He raised the knife above his head and was about to plunge it deep into Ashley’s belly, but I ran into the house. I couldn’t stand to see this anymore. I ran into the kitchen. I tried to grab Peter’s hand, but he swung around and stabbed me up to the handle in my shoulder. I gasped, What the fuck…

I couldn’t comprehend any of this. Peter had never acted this way in his life. He must have been being controlled by some outside force. But what?

Why are you doing this? I gasped through the pain in my shoulder.

Why? Why not, is the real question. But I will tell you. Because time is against me or us. I don’t know if I can beat this fucking clock because the now bleeds into the past and the past bleeds into the future. Giant red putrescent shit coughed up from the one thing that is supposed to be trusted is not comforting to a person who wants to see the white wings outstretched, waiting to comfort. All these fucking pictures don’t make any fucking sense, it is just a wash of colors plastered to a wall already covered with luminescent grief. Manifest in the walking shit is the epitome of social elite fucks pissing and shitting their way up the social ladder when we are down there getting rained on by foul pasteurized condescension. Every sexual device is not used for pleasure. It is just used because we fucking have to. No one says we have to but the unspoken purple fog shows all the invisible truths; those truths that kick us to the ground. Breaking our pearl teeth on the curb. That is sexually arousing to this elite. Constantly ejaculating hate and mockery on the less fortunate; leaving us wallowing in their semen of failure. These are the fucking cocksuckers that want to control our very existence. We must break out of these social stereotypes and show those fuckers we ain’t takin’ shit from those that feel they have the gift of light shining out of their raw and bleeding anus. When we come to any conclusion, we never know or give a fuck how we came to it. And then…we must KILL the fetus. BECAUSE IT’S ALWAYS THE FETUS’S FAULT! FUCK IT! IT BELONGS TO SATAN!

I couldn’t understand anything that he said, but after he was done, a high pitched yowl filled the room. It was the sound of a dying fetus. AAAAHHHCCCCHHHHHHHCCCCHH!!! Peter put his hands to his ears and let out his own scream; it was the scream of a man possessed. I ripped the knife out of my shoulder and stabbed Peter in the back as hard as I could. He screamed even louder. I don’t know if what I saw next actually happened, because it defies explanation. But the wound was real. The knife pulled itself out of his back and it turned towards me and plunged itself deep into the back of my knee. The tip of the knife was poking out of the front of my kneecap. I fell to the floor in a heap.

That’s what happens when you fuck with me, Peter said. He leaned down and ripped the knife out of my leg very painfully. The pain was excruciating. It shot up both sides of my leg and did not dissipate until it bore like a power drill deep in my brain.

Peter turned to Ashley. Now for you. He opened his mouth and let out a high pitched yell. As he did so, black mist poured from his open mouth. I didn’t know what the fuck this was. All I could do was sit there in a pool of my own blood, wishing that I had not interfered.

Suddenly Peter’s eyes went completely white. As they did, the dying fetus let out another long yowl and then it subsided again. It only subsided for a minute because Peter plunged the knife deep into Ashley’s belly. The cry continued as Peter sawed a deep gouge in Ashley’s pregnant stomach. She was trying to squirm around, but he stabbed her in the face to stop her squirming for good. All this time the room was filled with the sound of a dying fetus. It was almost unbearable. I could feel my brain snapping down the middle of my two hemispheres. Neither side of my brain wanted to think about what was happening.

Peter finished cutting and threw the knife down wetly to the floor. The next moment his hand was lost within the bloody slash he had made. The cry started to become more fierce as he pulled the fetus closer to the outside. In a shower of blood and female fluid, he forcibly tore the fetus from the womb. It was out, exposed to the air, but the umbilical cord was still attached. That fetus was the most fucked up thing I had ever seen. Its face was contorted so that its closed eyes were on one side of its head and its mouth was on the other. Its tiny spinal column had more curves than a mountain road in Colorado. And its hands only had three fingers. It was only a day old but it looked like it had been in her for a couple months. It was pretty well developed for one day of being in utero.

Peter bent his head down to the umbilical cord and ripped it off with his teeth. He slurped the cord into his mouth and ate it like spaghetti. I vomited all over myself. I didn’t want to see this. I didn’t want to be part of this. I couldn’t comprehend any of it.

Peter held the fetus by its head and screamed. "NOW! It is time!