About
Manifesto
Stories
Poems
Essays
Reviews
Subscribe
Support
Guestbook
Contact
Subhuman
by Z. S. Stalls
17 December 2025
~1,000 words (4min read)
"Look at him!" Banek shouted. "He is stupid like a subhuman!" The men roared with laughter, and the women chuckled as their kinsman babbled and fell over himself, inebriated by the hallucinogenic mushrooms he had consumed earlier in the evening. Imitating their parents, the children smiled, but behind their grins was an apprehensive curiosity of the word: subhuman. Their clan of Homo sapiens had been venturing into Homo neanderthalensis territory for several days, and they regarded their rival species as somewhat of a boogeyman--not a real threat, but scary because they were unfamiliar and presumed to be monitoring their clan's movements.
Addressing the children, Genda chimed in after her husband, "Subhumans do not speak like us. They only grunt and roar. They look like us, but they are no smarter than the animals we hunt for food." The children still seemed tense, and Genda tried to further reassure them. "We are not big and strong, nor are we fast. We have no claws or big teeth, but we are smart. We speak, make weapons and fire, and so animals fear us. The subhumans fear us too. We do not fear them."
One of the more adventurous children had a change in disposition. "When I am older, I will hunt the subhumans!" The other children laughed, but now Genda seemed uneasy.
"We do not hunt the subhumans, child," she said. "Although they are stupid, their bodies are like ours, and hunting them would anger the gods. Besides, it is said that their flesh tastes as foul as they smell." At ease after a laugh, the children accepted Genda's explanation of things. "Come now, children, the full moon is rising, and it is time for you to sleep."
***
In the morning, the clan put out their fire, kept alive through the night to keep large carnivores at bay, gathered berries, and ate them with rations of smoked Bison priscus meat. After breakfast, they packed up their minimal belongings--animal hides, stone tools, bone needles, spears, bows and arrows, dried food and medicinal plants, and leather sacks and woven baskets to carry everything--and started walking. They moved in a single-file line, with the children interspersed by a few adults in the middle and the rest of the adults taking up the front and rear. They were purposefully noisy and talkative as they walked. Even the megafauna of the Paleolithic typically feared large groups of loud humans.
Banek was the last of their group, and his cousin Waar walked just in front of him. Always a joker and sometimes a bully, Banek continued his teasing of Waar from the night before. "How are you feeling today, Waar? Too many mushrooms last night?"
Waar was unassuming but sure of himself, at least when sober. "Thanks to my bravery, we now know that the mushrooms in this region are much more potent than those of our home territory."
"Bravery or foolishness?" Banek retorted.
"It takes bravery to hear the words of the gods, Banek."
"And what did the gods tell you?" Banek hid his genuine curiosity beneath his usual pompousness.
As the clan rounded a giant rock face, Waar turned to face his cousin and motioned for him to stop walking. He let a long pause pass to put some distance between them and the rest of the group. In a serious tone, he spoke quietly so that only the two of them could hear: "One of our clan will soon face death."
There was a noise from above them, and a Panthera spelaea was on top of Waar before either man could react. The half-ton cave lion wrapped its jaws around Waar's neck and severed his spine in a single bite. Banek fell backwards, dropping his spear, and the cave lion was on top of him a moment later. It started to sink its teeth into his windpipe but then reared up and fell to his side. Banek covered his wound with one hand and grabbed his spear with the other. Already in a state of shock, he was further astounded to see a neanderthalensis man straddling the cave lion, driving a spear deep into the back of its head. Within a few seconds, the cave lion was dead.
Banek tried to speak but felt an intense pain in his throat, and all that came out was a hoarse moan. Hearing the commotion, Genda and three of his kinsmen rushed to help. The men were stunned by the scene--their dead relative, the dead cave lion, and the neanderthalensis man pulling his spear from the cave lion's head--but Genda ran to her husband and started digging through the basket she had been carrying on her back.
"Banek! What happened?" she asked. Banek tried to answer, but all he could do was wheeze and gasp. Genda set to work with a mortar and pestle, crushing willow bark and honeycomb into a salve to treat his wound.
The neanderthalensis man turned to face the three sapiens men. He was shorter and stouter than his counterparts. His clothing was different, but his spear was remarkably similar to theirs. Initially, the two species just stared at one another, fascinated by their similarities and differences. Eventually, the neanderthalensis man placed the palm of his hand against his chest. Then, to everyone else's complete surprise, he spoke: "Olar."
Genda and the three sapiens men were as speechless as Banek. Olar patted his chest with his hand and spoke again: "Olar!" Seeing their utter confusion, he walked over to Banek, placed his hand on Banek's shoulder, and tried a more universal form of communication--he smiled. As Banek's shock gave way to gratitude, he reached out and gripped Olar's upper arm. It was more muscular than his own, but Olar's bare skin felt as familiar as any sapiens's. Wincing through the pain in his neck, Banek mustered a smile in return to his fellow human.
Like what you've read? Support my writing by tipping as little as $0.50 USD. Or don't. Money's not real, man.