Washington Horror Blog

SEMI-FICTIONAL CHRONICLE of the EVIL THAT INFECTS WASHINGTON, D.C. To read Prologue and Character Guide, please see www.washingtonhorrorblog.com, updated 6/6//2017. Follow Washington Water Woman on Twitter @HorrorDC ....

Saturday, January 07, 2017

The Pregnant Pause

"It's a Christmas miracle!"

"It's a Christmas nightmare, you mean!"

The two Maryland animal sanctuary volunteers were showing Sebastian L'Arche where Megamoo was chewing hay in her stall.

"And how old is she?"  L'Arche thought the cow had already been geriatric the last time he saw her, to treat her bovine narcolepsy years ago.

"Too old!"

"And there's no bull here!"

"May I?"  L'Arche gestured at the enclosure.

"She hasn't let anybody near her since the vet was here.  That's why we called you."

The Animal Whisperer walked slowly towards her, and she remembered who he was.  What happened? L'Arche whispered, taking her head into his hands and looking softly into her eyes.

I can't talk about it, she said.

L'Arche squatted down next to her and put his ear against the cow's belly, quickly frowning--he did not at all like what he heard inside that womb.

Down in upper Georgetown, Golden Fawn was lying in bed, staring out at the snow and the raven looking in at her from a bare tree branch.  It was the first time she had ever been pregnant.  It was the third time she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.  Unwilling to expose her unborn child to radiation or chemotherapy, she had opted to have both breasts entirely removed.  She had never felt more like a woman, and less like a woman.  She again touched the artificial materials under her skin which plumped her chest up into a fake bosom, one that could never give milk to her unborn child.

Her grandmother walked in with barley soup.  "Why don't we move the bed further from the window?  It's so cold!"

"It's well-insulated," said Golden Fawn, thanking her for the soup and propping herself up for the tray.

"So are igloos, but you don't put your bed right next to the wall."  Golden Fawn's grandmother crawled under the blanket to lie beside her.  She had already figured out that it was Golden Fawn's mother-in-law who had given her the crazy herbs that got her pregnant and also resurrected the cancer, but had only chided the woman in private.  "How is it?"

"Delicious," said Golden Fawn, who recently had no appetite for anything unless her grandmother cooked it.  "How is Joey?"

"He took his sled out with some friends--they are hopeful."

"Hopeful," repeated Golden Fawn, like it was a word she had never heard before.

"I'm still hopeful," Dr. Khalid Mohammad was saying to his wife, as they drove away from the disappointing open house a mile west of Golden Fawn's home.  "After the initial wave of Trump people buying houses, there will also be Obama people who decide to sell, and we'll have more to choose from."  He patted Yasmin's pregnant belly, and she smiled at him.

"Sure!" she said, though she secretly wanted to move far away before the Trump Administration could arrest them in the middle of the night and lock them up in a Muslim concentration camp.  "We still have over seven months," she said, wanting to sound equally hopeful.

"Seven months!" he laughed.  "We need to be moved before then!"

To Chicago, she thought.  Maybe all the way to California.

Over at the White House, Ghost Dennis was also thinking about the ticking clock.  It's not too late, the murdered Nixon staffer was whispering into President Obama's ear.  This is what we used to call the "pregnant pause"--when people are so in shock about public affairs that you can quietly reset the agenda in your favor.  President Obama put down the report he was reading at his Oval Office Desk, got up, and walked over to the window to look out at the snow and try to clear his head.  You can set a trap for him--MANY.  President Obama had never told anybody about the voices he sometimes heard in here, but for the first time ever, he wished he could hear them more clearly.  It's not too late to save the Republic from the moles and the hacks and the haters.

"Tell me how!" President Obama exclaimed, as his deputy chief of staff walked in.


President Obama wheeled around, not seeing the arrival of the raven that Golden Fawn had sent to him.

COMING UP:  A surprising new 
secret agent investigates the Russians!


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