The intermitences of Death ch I

[nocturnus33]

(To Prelude)

(I hate warnings and A/N, still is what fandom comunity does:  minor character death, duh)

SO, Chapter 1: GUILT

For geminiscorp

I

 

Mark Granger watched as the highlight of the full moon fell heavily over the silhouette of his wife, drawing dancing figures of a fulfilled omen. He sat by the side of the bed and looked at her. There was the smell of perfume in the air, he noticed,a heavy one, from blood and milk.  It made him dizzy, all of this.

“My sleeping beauty”; he mumbled sadly, concern on his features. He let his finger drift across his wife´s cheek; she flinched in her sleep as if it were some kind of annoying mosquito. 

Birth should always be a reason for joy, he reasoned.  He couldn’t fathom it.  Joy. Thoughts of guilt and rage crossed his mind. He blamed himself for having agreed with all this! Twins’ births was complicated enough; why not go to the hospital? But Susan, his beloved Susan, had been emphatic; the twins would be born at their country home. Just a pout of her well-formed lips had made him lose reason. Why was he so foolish? She had the nearsightedness of youth, Mark thought, and felt powerful as if her beauty would protect her from evil; she knew no fear. He, twenty years older, the protector she always looked to, he who had tended to every wound her past left her, had now hurt her the most by allowing all this to happen.

The sound of red wine whirling in its glass helped his mind focus a little, even if it content remains intact. He watched the sleeping infant: an ugly and weak baby, his daughter. Will he be able to love her? Two days ago he was sure of it! Now fogginess wrapped his heart, making him unresponsive towards the child who brought death to his home.

Nausea attacked him,  while he reached for the basin, he couldn’t stop the inner sight of his baby boy, hanged by his sister’s umbilical cord, vacant eyes open as if accusing the world, him and Susan, of abandon him. Giddy, Mark returned to bed, resting enough as to recover some strength, but avoided slumber. His dead son haunted him in his vigil. He could only guess what horrible dreams would come with sleep.

The baby girl fussed in the bed, crawling unnaturally toward her mother’s breast, like a caterpillar. She was wrapped securely from neck to toe.  As if the clothes want to give her the warmth her mother refuses her, Mark thought bitterly. It was irrational, but Susan couldn’t get out of her mind that it was this baby’s cord that killed her twin.

 

TBC ...

I'm heading to Buenos Aires today! See you soon

Comments

[ozratbag2.livejournal.com]

Wow! That is intriguing, tragic and just so well done. The enotions, tension and the observances of the grief borne of both life and death, are just startling - and shocking. It makes me wonder how anyone could survive this all consuming loss, and what penalty could be brought to bear on a child who survives such a dramatic entry into the world.

Post it, please post it, I definitely want to know exactly where this is heading.

Consider me hooked. :D

There are a couple of typos, but nothing drastic...and I'm hardly in a position to throw stones about typos. I have them littered through my stories. :)

[nocturnus33]

Thanks Oz. Im'm very glad you like it. I'm having fun writting it. If you find any typos for now on just point it to me.