Day One

So, this is a short story, written rather hurriedly for a writing contest I'm in. It needs flushing out and it's not perfect, but all the same, here it is as it's being entered.

~Waking Up~
    Samantha woke up before dawn with the rolling in her stomach after only a couple hours of sleep. It made her laugh when people told her to enjoy her sleep while it lasted. It also made her laugh when people told her she glowed with maternal pride. In Samantha's opinion, people were fucking morons and there was no maternal feelings towards this parasite that had been sucking her will to live away for 9 and half months.
    The parasite rolled several more times to make sure Samantha knew it was hungry and it was time to hunt. She rubbed sleep out of her eyes and wondered if this was how breeding dogs felt: not blessed with life, but cursed with it. People would argue that she knew what she was getting into. Her signature on the contracts was proof of that. Of course, when you're damned, trying to find a way out, you don't read the fine print. There wasn't time to reflect on these decisions right now though, there was hunting to be done and a parasite to feed.
    She set her feet on the floor and the smell from underneath the floor boards assaulted her just like every morning. In the beginning it hadn't been so bad. Her sense of smell wasn't amplified yet and there weren't so many bodies hidden. Those days Samantha hadn't had to use the gifts that came with the contract and the parasite. She was far from the prettiest girl in the room at any time, but there's something about seeming helpless that attracts the worst of the worst. They follow you home like puppies, sensing prey that won't fight their depravities. The look on the face of the victimizer as they become victim is priceless, no doubt about that.
    Samantha put on her make up, found the dress that best flaunts her belly and desire to be sodomized and headed out into the new day, the last day, the first day.

~The Birth~
    7:07 am on the 7th day of the 7th month, and it's finally time.
    Samantha returns with the corrupt, pervert priest. His eyes are vacant and whatever it is they see, it's not this street, this house, this time. She finds them gathered around her porch. It makes her smile, knowing how many times people passed them by and rolled their eyes at them. This street pestilence with their signs declaring that God and the end is coming. The role of the prophet is forever to be ignored until it's too late for the warning to matter. These prophets have been called her to see the beginning of what they've always known is coming.
    These prophets part ranks to let Samantha and her pet priest through, closing behind them to prevent any interruptions. She leaves her door open so the few chosen acolytes can follow. Once she would have been disgusted by the smell they trailed with them, but now it's nothing. All she knows is relief at finally knowing the parasite will be out of her and everything will be over, knowing that the price for salvation is almost at an end.
    She seats the priest down in the middle of a room that has been cleared of all but the oldest symbols and the oldest weapon. As it was in the beginning so it will be in the end. She kneels before the priest, feels the parasite inside her start to writhe in anticipation. She whispers a prayer to the old gods and the new. As she lifts the blade, there is a glimmer of panic in the eyes of the priest as he suddenly sees what's in front of him. The blade lowers and a cry escapes his throat.
    Samantha angles the blade at the last minute to her engorged stomach. When the blade enters she feels the greatest pain she's ever felt. As she pulls the blade away, the acolytes fall to their knees in gratitude and light begins to fill the room. She is blinded with light and with the pain as the tiny cut is torn by hands slowly from the inside. She feels herself being turned inside out as the parasite pulls her skin to make itself whole.
    One last blinding pulse of light fills the room and fades back to reveal something that looks like Samantha, but glowing with the light of all the old gods and holding a flaming sword and a pile of bones and organs by it's feet. It is beautiful, thinks the priest, as it leans in to kiss him and raises it's sword.
    It whispers, "You will be the first of the impure and the disbelievers this day, but not that last."