Recursive Mother Nature

I looked at the tiny package in its cradle. Her cradle. Like a baby in every way, except much smaller.

I didn’t remember anything about the birth, but that was probably because of the drugs or something. Here she was, crying and asking for me in her way. I felt perfect. Just like Mother Nature.

I looked in every room of the house, except the room with the locked door. Why it was locked or what was inside, I didn’t remember. It was getting annoying, this amnesia. But it was temporary.

A windy rustling sound came from outside. I looked, but all I saw was a shadow of something. But for a split second, it looked like an eye. Then everything went dark. Those drugs must have really done a number on me. The lights came on right after that.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I was getting pretty bored, because though the baby had needs every two hours, I couldn’t get the television or the computer to work. Not even my phone was operational. I decided, after putting the baby down for a nap, to see once and for all what was in that locked room.

I tapped out the pins holding the door. Why the pins were on the outside, I don’t remember. I removed the door carefully and set it aside.

In the room was a shop, with a collection of tiny materials. They looked like they could be used to build a dollhouse. Fair enough. I would be the greatest architect of all time.

I built the house carefully, using my house as a rough pattern. On a whim, I put in a little locked room, just for fun. Later, I created tiny little boards and even tinier nails, and pressed out tiny tools. I even made a tiny television and computer. It was fun.

I set the house in the middle of the living room to make sure the details were right. I couldn’t remember what the outside of the house should look like. But just then, the baby started crying. I figured the house was done. Close enough!

I picked up the baby and tried to hold her, but she twitched and moved around, and then bit me. It drew blood somehow. But how?

It wasn’t blood, though. It was black. I was so startled that I dropped her. She hit the floor right beside the dollhouse and just shattered. I was for some reason not panicked by this. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tiny figure emerge from her body. It went in through the front door of the house, and it appeared to be carrying a baby. She appeared to be carrying a baby, that is.

She set the baby in the tiny crib I had made and then fainted. Then she got back up and looked at the crib. She had such love in her eyes. I don’t remember how much time passed.

I wanted to see what she was doing, so I chanced a peek. I didn’t want her to see me. I moved out of the way, but she looked right into my eye. Just for a split second. Then I turned off the light.

I turned it back on after a few seconds. I listened for a while and heard her inside, taking down the little door, building something in the shop…


15 thoughts on “Recursive Mother Nature”

  1. HOLY SHIT i love the idea for this!!!!!!!!!!!!! yes yes and so much more yes. i started to get weirded out when the narrator decided to build a doll house and i liked the chills i got from it. the loop concept is awesome as fuck and i love even more that we have no idea where it began or why and whether it will ever end. just a hellish, infinite, circle. chilling!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This is disturbing. Disturbing in the way that, if it were a TV show or a film, I would switch it off. So therefore I know it’s very, very good .

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Actually no! You know, I used to watch horror etc before being preggy, get freaked out and then get over it. And then I wouldn’t watch any of it during pregnancy and now I can’t watch it anymore. I guess it’s like food that you just can’t eat anymore..? Anyway, your story was Fab but highly traumatic! 😂

        Liked by 1 person

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