With the last of my breath, I emptied my seed; it hit the porous soil and sizzled.
Some found its way down fine crevices, and pooled beneath the scorching heat: a protein bed for scorpion larvae and cactus root.

Since then, I’ve grown in excruciating stages. At night, you could hear my screams amid the coyote’s howl. Though miles now separate me from my bones, I could still smell your scent, accompanied by the memory of your deceit as you left me stranded in the desert wild.
It’s a surprise, I know, to realize it’s your faithful husband, and not some monster, who has returned home to his unfaithful wife. You never did like the sound of children running around, and I don’t blame you for what you did, but we made a vow.
Soon, the only sounds you’ll hear will be the scraping of my spines, the snipping of my pedipalps, as I remove your tongue, insert my thorn, and plant a kingdom born from blight inside your body-womb.
This story appears as part of Betrayal, a PUNK NOIR Magazine series, originally published May 2024.
Bio
Kurt Newton’s fiction has appeared in Rooster Republic’s Two-Thousand Word Terrors anthology, Mouthfeel, God’s Cruel Joke, Café Irreal, and Tower Magazine. His latest collection, Bruises, was published in 2023 by Lycan Valley Press.
PUNK NOIR, the online literary and arts magazine that looks at the world at its most askew, casting a bloodshot eye over the written word, film, music, television and more.
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