The BodyA Story by GwenLark Death in the eyes of a child The body, the weary, flesh induced burden seemed to grow cold and numb. She lay beside it, afraid to move in case she would end it, squeezing its hand, praying for its return to our world. Not listening to anything anymore, it had all become like white noise. Concentrating, hard, as if she could will some life into it. She could see everything but was impervious to prevent it. She had long grown accustom to the bittersweet smell of sickness. The body ceased its hauntingly obvious gasps and the deafening crackle that came from deep inside it had been abruptly silenced. Its lips turned a deep shade of Prussian blue and its once shut eyes flew open. It had seemed like an age had passed since she had seen those hazel eyes but these weren’t the ones she had fondly remembered, no, these were cold, blank, vacant, unkind, flat; dead. This had all happened in an instant but she could have testified that time had stopped. There was an agonizing quiet in the room, people waited on baited breath, hoping another gasp would follow. It didn’t. She shot up and dread and horror consumed her, she couldn’t breathe. She was propelled to the other side of the room by giants, surrounding the body. One giant grabbed her from behind and was forcing her out of the greying room. She broke free, shouting and screaming, fighting with a ravenous passion to see the body. There were giants pressing down on it with both hands. Then, the body, it began to move! It raised itself up. Then, the thing that would always remain with her, it convulsed and from its mouth breached a river of blood and blackness. A hellish noise reverberated through every spine. It had escaped from her own mouth. The giant apprehended her and cast her from the room. The child was still screaming for the mother, who would never hear her again. The anxiety and fear filtered through her and spread like the cancer that caused the dormant vessel now sprawled on the stained bed. Almost instantly she became aware of the stink in the air. The smell of disease had faded and was replaced with something much more sinister. The girl virtually witnessed the scent of death devour the small house. She knew in her heart that it had ended, so in turn she couldn’t explain the glimmer of hope; that tiny ray of light, like a lit match stick at a dark night at sea. Driven to the staircase by an overbearing giant, the girl met the gazes of so many more daunting, lofty figures. Silence filled lips and tears entered their weary eyes. She heard nothing. She saw nothing. She could do nothing. The kitchen. Why had she fled to the kitchen? The luminous lights, the bright walls and the ashen faced giants should have shooed her away; but they didn’t. They almost cleared a path for her like Moses moving through the Red Sea. It felt like a spectre, some sort of passive spirit that the living ignored. Seeing the reel in her head of what happened over the last, what seemed, years was boring deeper and deeper into her skull. Although, usually, a spritely young girl; she felt heavy, she felt scarred and then she began to feel herself slipping farther away from the scene. She was beginning to feel nothing at all. Crouched in the corner of the door and the wall, the girl’s face became straight and pale, her body became tense and she was so immersed in her own mind she could feel her heart beating, slow and steady, and feel her own tepid blood course through her own veins. Another giant then crashed into the room. The collision partially brought her out of her mental coma. She knew she knew the giant, the giant slept down the hall from her. Even with the waver in her voice and her watering eyes, the girl found it hard to empathise with the giant. “That’s it, she’s gone. She’s dead.” She glared up at the face of the giant. The large figure had extinguished that minute flame of hope in her heart. She hated her for it; and her heart grew cold. Most of the giants gasped and grabbed their mouths and began to cry and wail. She wanted them all to leave. Every last one of them, even the ones she cared for. She didn’t want their sympathy, she didn’t want their comfort; she wanted to be left alone. The giant that had stood as the messenger of death began to make tea. No one wanted any. Her chest became heavy and an almighty ache spread through her whole being. She wanted to scream. She was so angry. At that moment she hated her mother. Although her death was a premature turn of fate, she wanted to hate her. She had left her alone. She had abandoned her with all these strangers. How had she expected this to be alright? How had she expected her to be alright without her? It was then that she left the person she was behind. She would never be the same, because something inside of her had breathed its last breath when her mother had breathed hers. It had started with a bottomless pit in her heart which was filled with hurt and anger and a consuming rage. * The girl is now not so young. She gazes out of the apartment window, reliving the past five years and what has happened since that black day. For a very long time she was angry. She done things that she knew would make her mother furious ludicrously looking for a direct reaction. She done things that she has looked back on with regret. However, she did not regret her feelings from that day or any other day since. Grief takes its toll however it sees fit and any emotion would have been regarded as fitting. She will always miss her mother and she knows she will always love her; as her mother still loves her, just from a little farther away. © 2017 GwenLarkAuthor's Note
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GwenLarkGlasgow, Scotland, United KingdomAboutJust exploring my boundaries. I love writing and I love reading other's creations. more..Writing
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