In their house the two of them lived happily and they gallivanted throughout the halls. Mrs.

Dules in her poofy red dress, and Mr. Dules in his best tweed, both were happy and they both

longed for a child. Sadly, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Dules were capable of having a child, or a child

bred of Mr. and Mrs. Dules, so they hired a mad man to construct one for them.


The child was not perfect as one could expect, being made from the flesh of various children

and all. And Mr. and Mrs. Dules in spite of being quite the liberals for their time were neither

impressed nor accepting of the child’s appearance. Although the child was fully functioning in

the way that any youthful child would function, it was the child’s monstrous appearance that

vexed the Dules.


When the child was four or so, he became quite fixed with the crushing of small kitten’s

heads. Mr. and Mrs. Dules found this practice to be quite barbaric at the least and leaning

towards the foul. They both found that they detested the small beast not only for its looks but

also for its beastly impulses. They decided the best thing to do for it would be to asphyxiate it

with a pillow.


The Dules realized that the creature was damned, probably since its creation, and for that they

felt remorse for ever constructing its hellish existence. They realized that the creature was

damned after they failed in murdering it. Mr. Dules held the creature down while Mrs. Dules

placed a satin pillow over its face. It took three or four minutes for the child’s muffled screams to

come to a stop. They looked into the beast brat’s yellowing dead eyes. They almost immediately

felt dread and a bit of sadness because this ordeal did not work out to any of their benefits. The

two of them gasped when the child’s yellowing eyes looked over at them. When the mad man

created the child for the Dules, he gave the child the ability to live without having to breathe air.

They both came to the conclusion that the child was damned for this creature was not one of

God’s creations, but a man’s, a mere human’s invention. It was the overtly human quality that

made the distinction of their outlook, the distinction between the damned and what could be

considered miraculous. So it was no doubt that the Dules would try to murder the child again.

* * * * *

Davide Nixon is a writer of short fiction and poetry. He began writing little scary stories at the young age of six, but he started taking writing seriously around eighteen years-old. Davide is also a full time student with a good GPA. He was born in Phoenix Arizona and was raised in Tennessee. He considers himself a “strange southern gentleman”. He doesn’t like talking about where he has published.

* * * * *


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