Amballore House Read Online Free
Author: Jose Thekkumthala
originally planned to create a statue, but changed his mind in the middle. He retained the statue part, and supplemented it with live features. The result was Ann. Her overall makeover was the aftermath of God’s afterthought. He flip-flopped.
She had a cubical face—square shaped in the front, at both the sides, and at the bottom. Her geometry teacher used to say that she was created when God was taking geometry lessons. Curiosity got the better of God when he was in his geometry class, and he createda geometry-shaped face. The simplest shape he could think of as manifesting perfection was a cube formed when squares decide to circumscribe three-dimensional space. Even though he realized that the face he created was the pits in regard to aesthetical quality, he decided not to alter it; he decided to stick to his guns, determined as he was to create geometrical replica of a human face. This was how Ann got her geometry-figure face.
She looked more like an aberration of three-dimensional space than someone who occupied it. When she talked or moved, it was like she set off distortions in the four-dimensional space-time continuum.
Ann’s mother and father were born eons ago, toward the latter part of the nineteenth century. Born to a farming community and brought up as Catholics in the strictest terms of the religion, they were exemplary citizens. Sex was taboo in those times, and they claimed that they did not know how they created six children— though they knew very well how they did it but were afraid of acknowledging their role in the process, except in the confessional stand at their local church. Every time they initiated the nine-month process of giving birth to a new child, they went to the confessional stand to confess to the priest of the grave sin they committed. Immediately after Ann was conceived, both Varghese Mappila (her father) and Eliamma (her mother) went to the church and confessed.
A sensationally unending stream of humongous blobs of semen spurted out of Varghese Mappila, whose ejaculation shook him and his bedroom like the Richter 9.5 earthquake that hit Chile in 1960. Eliamma screamed out so loudly that sleeping ducks in their farmyard woke up and went on a rampage of “quack, quack, quack” the whole night long, totally confused at the commotion that infiltrated their usually calm neighborhood.
Varghese Mappila had planned to rear the ducks up until Easter and then butcher them to make Easter duck curry. Annoyed at their incessant quacking, he announced to Eliamma that he was going to kill them the very next day.
“I will kill them tomorrow if only to get some sleep” he toldEliamma, little knowing that the earthquake-like tremor that he had triggered was the underlying cause of the nocturnal agitation.
Eliamma was still in the throes of orgasm and hardly heard what her husband was saying, except the word “kill.”
“Kill me tomorrow as you wish, oh Vargy (she called him Vargy only in the bedroom); do anything you want to do to me, but don’t stop what you are doing right now,” moaned Eliamma, still in the powerful grips of ecstasy.
It was at that exhilarating moment of gripping intoxication that Eliamma felt that she was going to become pregnant, whether she was going to be killed by Varghese Mappila or not.
Unseen and unknown to her, a drama was getting enacted in Eliamma’s uterus. Her peacefully waiting egg was greeted by a huge number of sperms estimated to be 750 million. The task confronting this massively large number of sperms was not trivial. To mate with Eliamma’s egg was the mission of each and every one of these sperms. For each sperm, to join Eliamma’s egg, to fertilize it, and to form a human being was indeed a dream come true. The odds of this happening were like winning the Kerala State lottery: very poor, one in 750 million.
Each and every sperm knew about the unfavorable odds and naturally was very nervous. Competition was very high. The slowest-swimming
She had a cubical face—square shaped in the front, at both the sides, and at the bottom. Her geometry teacher used to say that she was created when God was taking geometry lessons. Curiosity got the better of God when he was in his geometry class, and he createda geometry-shaped face. The simplest shape he could think of as manifesting perfection was a cube formed when squares decide to circumscribe three-dimensional space. Even though he realized that the face he created was the pits in regard to aesthetical quality, he decided not to alter it; he decided to stick to his guns, determined as he was to create geometrical replica of a human face. This was how Ann got her geometry-figure face.
She looked more like an aberration of three-dimensional space than someone who occupied it. When she talked or moved, it was like she set off distortions in the four-dimensional space-time continuum.
Ann’s mother and father were born eons ago, toward the latter part of the nineteenth century. Born to a farming community and brought up as Catholics in the strictest terms of the religion, they were exemplary citizens. Sex was taboo in those times, and they claimed that they did not know how they created six children— though they knew very well how they did it but were afraid of acknowledging their role in the process, except in the confessional stand at their local church. Every time they initiated the nine-month process of giving birth to a new child, they went to the confessional stand to confess to the priest of the grave sin they committed. Immediately after Ann was conceived, both Varghese Mappila (her father) and Eliamma (her mother) went to the church and confessed.
A sensationally unending stream of humongous blobs of semen spurted out of Varghese Mappila, whose ejaculation shook him and his bedroom like the Richter 9.5 earthquake that hit Chile in 1960. Eliamma screamed out so loudly that sleeping ducks in their farmyard woke up and went on a rampage of “quack, quack, quack” the whole night long, totally confused at the commotion that infiltrated their usually calm neighborhood.
Varghese Mappila had planned to rear the ducks up until Easter and then butcher them to make Easter duck curry. Annoyed at their incessant quacking, he announced to Eliamma that he was going to kill them the very next day.
“I will kill them tomorrow if only to get some sleep” he toldEliamma, little knowing that the earthquake-like tremor that he had triggered was the underlying cause of the nocturnal agitation.
Eliamma was still in the throes of orgasm and hardly heard what her husband was saying, except the word “kill.”
“Kill me tomorrow as you wish, oh Vargy (she called him Vargy only in the bedroom); do anything you want to do to me, but don’t stop what you are doing right now,” moaned Eliamma, still in the powerful grips of ecstasy.
It was at that exhilarating moment of gripping intoxication that Eliamma felt that she was going to become pregnant, whether she was going to be killed by Varghese Mappila or not.
Unseen and unknown to her, a drama was getting enacted in Eliamma’s uterus. Her peacefully waiting egg was greeted by a huge number of sperms estimated to be 750 million. The task confronting this massively large number of sperms was not trivial. To mate with Eliamma’s egg was the mission of each and every one of these sperms. For each sperm, to join Eliamma’s egg, to fertilize it, and to form a human being was indeed a dream come true. The odds of this happening were like winning the Kerala State lottery: very poor, one in 750 million.
Each and every sperm knew about the unfavorable odds and naturally was very nervous. Competition was very high. The slowest-swimming
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