Bogleech.com's 2019 Horror Write-off:
The Tower of Flesh
Submitted by Murat Can Ozyonum (email)
Splish and splash, fluids fall down from the heavens. Twist and turn,the insides creak. Crunch and twist, do the bones ever move. Drip and drop, do tears descend. Plip and plop, flesh moves here and here. Spit and gargle, liquids combine. The Tower grows and grows, ascending the artificial constructs of man. Screaming and chanting, the giant globule of flesh shouts as it grows and grows. The chosen, the believers, the walking pieces of meat come from all walks of life, venturing far from the lands which they were birthed. They hear the call of our prophet, the voice which rings in the ears of all who believe. Whether through the winds or from their technological doodads of disbelief, they hear and now they obey.
He flew from the heavens, high above the clouds. Deep in the cosmos, and he has graced our meaty world with his presence, he speaks of a message. A message of brotherhood and unity, of peace and tranquillity, of flesh and bone. If we wish to meet god, then we must add our pound of flesh, becoming one with our earthly brothers. The Tower of flesh was the solution, the answer to our hatred and greed. No wants, no desires, no unnecessary skin. Just flesh and the flesh of the friends near you. Thus many answered his call, and gathered together to become one.
Twist and spin, their flesh spurned together. Split and break, bones joined. Voices and whispers, the people sung. Groans and grunts, the people cried out. Swish and swash, the blood leaked. Grow and grow, the flesh never stopped. Half the world became a tower and half the world would walk up from it, the disbelievers, the heretics, the fools, the ignorant, the tasty, they were given a second chance to meet god. Their friends and family become their pavement so that they may meet god himself and feel his wondrous, forgiving, pus leaking, ear screaming love.
Soon after many years, the tower would stop. The flesh would rest, the bone would settle, the screams would turn to whispers. The Tower of flesh laid complete, now awaiting the rough feet of the accursed to plant themselves upon its soft stairs and ascend, ascend, ASCEND to their fate, where they can finally rest. Because in the end, it didn't matter what beliefs you held, what features of your body were, what behaviors you might have had. What reputation you where known for, if you were weak or strong, fast or nimble, fat and thin. In the end the Tower of flesh, God would accept you. In the end, all disbelievers will ascend, whether they want to or not.
Splish and splash, fluids fall down from the heavens. Twist and turn, the insides creak. Crunch and twist, do the bones ever move. Drip and drop, do tears descend. Plip and plop, flesh moves here and here. Spit and gargle, liquids combine. Pus and bone, any is accepted. Man or animal, you are welcome. Ascend and ascend. God is hungry.