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Updated: May 25, 2025
Again came that proud lift of her shoulders, the vibrant stir of wing-stumps. "That would lower us to a level with men." "But are we lowering ourselves?" Julia asked. "Are they really on a lower level? Isn't the earth as good as the air?" "It's better, Julia," Lulu said unexpectedly. "The earth's a fine place. It's warm and homelike. Things grow there. There's nothing in the air."
They did not touch its surface. They flew. Flew and yet it was not flight. It was half-flight. It was scarcely flight at all. Compared with the magnificent, calm, effortless sweep of their girlhood days, it was almost a grotesque performance. Their wing-stumps beat back and forth violently, beat in a very agony of effort. Indeed these stunted fans could never have held them up.
The head only and the upper portion of the breast are devoured: the rest the plump abdomen, the best part of the thorax, the legs and lastly, of course, the wing-stumps is flung aside untouched. Does this mean that the tenderest and most succulent morsels are chosen? No, for the belly is certainly more juicy; and the Empusa refuses it, though she eats up her House-fly to the last particle.
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