Crystal Tears

This was originally the prologue to a novel I was writing about three-or-four years back. I believe it still works as a standalone, in some way.

(1)

‘Twas a gloomy day; the sky full of grey clouds- all ready to bawl a storm upon the town of Roanoke, Virginia. Gracie Harpor sped through the night, in a mad rush to reach Roanoke Memorial Hospital- centered directly in the middle of downtown.

Twenty minutes previous, Gracie had received a phone call from one of her two daughters, Mary. Mary and Gracie’s other daughter (the eldest of the two), Charlotte, had went out for a night on the town. Even from the beginning, Gracie knew it was a stupid, childish idea; Charlotte was in her last month of pregnancy. The child was due within the next two weeks, but- as teenagers always seem to do- they had all completely overlooked the fact of a possible early-arrival.

Charlotte’s water had broken.

Standing in the mall, standing inside a small shop, Charlotte’s water had simply snapped and she had leaked all over the floor of this little shop. Many people had become wide-eyed at that instant, running up to her and asking in soft, caring tones if she were okay. Even in the early stages of this labor, Charlotte still tried to nod and smile for these strangers. Then the embarrassment of practically pissing in public surfaced and her face had taken on a tomato-red flush. Charlotte had began to call- or scream, Mary had never given Gracie the specifics- for Mary and Gary (her husband of one year exact).

As soon as the calling reached Gary, as well as Mary, they had literally ran over to Charlotte and saw the huge wet spot on the floor underneath her, soaking into the carpet between her feet. At that instant, Gary grabbed Charlotte and rushed out to his white Camaro. He had made Mary stay standing on the sidewalk in front of the mall with her sister while he ran to the car. He was going to start it, back out, and pull up to the corner as fast as he could.

There isn’t much traffic tonight, Mary had told Gracie over the phone from the hospital. It had shocked Gracie to s**t when Mary had said they were at the hospital at this very moment. Apparently Charlotte was already getting ready to have the baby. The strangest part, though, was the whole idea that Charlotte wasn’t waiting sixteen hours to deliver. Apparently the baby was a little too anxious . . .

Gracie was now turning down the street at a pretty fast speed, the little arrow on the speedometer pointing all the way to the right, hinting at an easy sixty miles an hour. She didn’t care, though. When a mother’s daughter is in labor- especially one as strangely fast-paced as this one had become- the mother really won’t care for anything but being there to see the grandchild open it’s small, fresh eyes to the beauty of this world. The one issue Gracie had, though, was the beauty had disappeared for her a long time ago- if it ever actually existed, that is.

Gracie Harpor was sensitive. Not in the sense of being touchy over words that could scar, but in a way that stated she knew things. Felt them. Lived within them, sometimes. As cheesy as it may sound, it was the truth. Gracie had literally gotten so angry with her own mother once- when she was still alive, God bless her soul- that she had said, “I wish all your buttons would pop off your damn shirt!” and, reluctantly, that is exactly what had happened once she had left the room. A very loud ensemble of POPS! startled her, and when Gracie had ran back inside the kitchen her mother’s blouse had been hanging from her shoulders. She cou-ldn’t decide whether this was some spectacular power, or whether this was some form of a curse from the Almighty. The only problem with the latter, though, was that she had no idea how she could’ve possibly sinned so much inside her mother’s womb. This “power” had been with her since she had seen the bright white lights and felt the doctor’s latex gloves on her small, foot-long back.

Growing up, Gracie had seen terrible things with this sixth sense. It seemed like something out of The Twilight Zone. This little sense she now called “the Feeling” was not genetic. Her daughters, Mary and Charlotte, didn’t seem to have any relative, or identical, version of their own Feeling. She had told them about it in the past, but the two girls had probably forgotten completely. Gracie knew this was no feminine sense; she knew it was a supernatural touch. The question still remained, though: who had touched her? Had it been God? Or had it been his rival, Satan? Gracie Harpor had lived through years of this mystery, but something always seemed to call out neither of the above.

The rain had finally come. It rushed down from the eyes of the clouds, tapping harder and harder against the windshield of Gracie’s car. It could be a relaxing sound sometimes. Cooling. Especially to be at home in her overly-comfortable, empty, husband-less bed. It calmed her, almost making her forget about her coming grandchild. The baby would be here soon.

The closer she drew to downtown, she could feel a dark presence beginning to surface inside her mind. A presence that the Feeling promoted highly. It scared her to think what it was pushing to warn. The Feeling had never been wrong in the past.

What could it be? Ellen thought to herself, not expecting what was coming.

To respond to her thought, a dark, demonic voice had replied: Not the day.

When Gracie actually realized what had just happened, her eyes extended to the size of bowling balls. Something had heard what she was thinking. Something had actually said something to her directly. Awe- and terror-struck, Gracie tried to put on her har-dest, meanest face and question this invisible entity.

“Who are you?” she said into the darkness of her small Ford. A chill crept its way up her neck, seeming to push her hair up into a scared salute.

“’Tis not the day…” the Dark Man had replied (if it were a man at all). A tightening had wrapped it’s way around her throat; she couldn’t breathe right. Whatever this thing was, it meant cruelty and pain and suffering and every other dark emotion that exists. No good was to be found in this dark matter.

What wasn’t this day? Gracie couldn’t seem to figure it out.

All she knew was that this Dark Man was not vanishing. She could feel his presence residing within her mind and body. He was here for good.

Spotting Roanoke Memorial Hospital, the Feeling pulsed within her thin arms. Something bad had happened this stormy night.

Looking up at the enormous hospital, she saw that there were lights off in many of the rooms. They almost seemed to form three circles up there. Realization slapped her across her face, surfacing the horror of the moment. The rooms which didn’t have lights on formed one gigantic, black skull on the side of the building. A small weep escaped her throat.

(2)

At last, Gracie reached the hospital. Seeing how this situation was considered an emergency, she took the liberty of parking in the little lot which laid across the front yard, cowering below the forty-story building.

She exited her little Ford, then ran to the front door of the hospital. She was inside now- her eyes darting all around the room for the secretary. Once she found her, Gracie rushed toward her. She was breathing very deeply, catching her breath from running as quick as her sixty-year-old legs would allow across that damned lot.

“Welcome to Roanoke Memorial Hospital,” the young blonde said in a bright tone, matching it with a bright white smile. “How may I help ya, ma’am?” The smile still shining like a child’s nightlight.

“Hello,” Gracie exhaled the words viciously, “my daughter is…is in labor. I need…to know the room…room number.” Her mouth was now very dry.

“Oh, okay.” she raised a clipboard, two fingers pinching the bottom corner, prepared to search for Gracie’s daughter in the flood of names scribbled upon the paper. “What’s your daughter’s name, ma’am?”

Ellen’s lungs were grasping for breath. They tried and tried to tug for air, but it seemed all attempts would fail in retrieving the oxygen needed. The hospital’s air seemed thick.

“Charlotte…Harpor.” Gracie exhaled each part to the name.

“Okay, ma’am,” the blonde surfed through that list she had been pinching. As she turned page by page, Gracie saw tons of names filling lines and small boxes. The hospital seemed a little crowded tonight, and that actually worried Gracie as she recalled what she had seen residing on the side of the building a moment ago. “Your daughter’s room is on the eleventh floor- room number 205.”

“Eleventh floor: room 205. Gotcha! Thank you!” Gracie sputtered. She pushed herself away from the desk and headed for the elevators. There was a group of them- four to be exact. Two in front of her, two behind her. The Four Twins, she thought to herself.

After pressing a small, circular button, which had an arrow gesturing up, the doors slid open on the elevator to her right. Three people exited the elevator: a mid-thirties black couple, and a white man, dressed in a business suit. A doctor, perhaps.

Gracie entered the elevator alone; no one else had been waiting for one with her in the lobby. She scouted through the buttons until she saw another circle with an 11 on it. She poked it. The doors dinged, then slid shut. Gracie heard a cranking noise as the elevator took off in a direction toward the Heavens. She leaned back, resting on the golden pipe which was placed for people to hold for balance. Before she knew it the elevator dinged again, an echo of the first one. Then the doors slid open once more, but Gracie slipped out before the doors could open all the way.

Gracie stopped at another desk, a male nurse stood behind it.

“Young man, can you point me to room 205?” Gracie asked him.

His crystal blue eyes looked up into hers. With a very charming, and welcoming, voice, he said, “Yes, ma’am. It’s right down there,” the boy raised an arm which extended a finger down a hallway to her left.

“Thanks,” Gracie called as she rushed toward the room.

She knew she heard him call out a welcome, but ignored it.

Searching through the signs which marked each door, Gracie found 205 to be the room at the very end of the hallway. When she reached it, she knocked on the door.

No answer.

She went ahead inside. Immediately, she noticed two people sitting in the dark. One of the people was laying upon the hospital bed. The other figure glanced over at Gracie, stood up, and made it’s way over to her. At first glance, she panicked, thinking it was the owner of whatever had been speaking to her in her car mere minutes ago- ten at the most.

Then Gracie felt a slight push, meaning maybe the person wanted to talk outside. She followed the order, retreating to the hallway which was laid-out in front of room 205.

The figure which had come to her emerged from the darkness. It was Gary Hill.

At first, he looked okay. Then her eyes settled onto the creases that strained across his young, handsome face. Gary’s eye were wet. He had been crying.

“Gary, are you okay? Why are you crying?” Gracie questioned the young man with a sick feeling in her gut. She felt the dark man’s presence return.

It took him a while to respond, but finally the young man said: “The baby…”

“The baby? What about him? Has Charlotte already had him?” she asked, impatient.

Gary nodded, but the tears began to run down his cheeks. He sniffed.

“Oh, thank the Lord! But…why are you crying?” The darkness she had encountered had seemed stronger- thicker- since she had entered the hospital.

“Gary?” Gracie had begun to whisper, her heart sank to her stomach.

The boy wept softly. Gracie moved closer to him and put her arms around him. She held him tight, gently squeezing him.

“Ms. Harpor?” he said with a broken-voice emphasis.

“Yes, Gary?” Gracie replied, still holding the young man.

“The baby didn’t…the baby didn’t make it.” He whispered into her tight grasp.

At that moment, Gracie Harpor’s heart dropped even deeper inside her. The dark grasp had slipped it’s fingers around her heart again and squeezed a fit into her nerves. Gary had begun to tremble, as had Gracie. They wept in each other’s arms. Even though they were in-laws, the love still floated through these two; a mother and son kind of love.

“He…he was a stillborn.” Gary breathed in failure.

Gracie couldn’t find any words. This was terrible! How could God let such a terrible thing happen to her?!

Mary came around the corner, her makeup running black streams down her face. She joined in on the hug with Gary and Gracie.

The three of them had stood there for nearly fifteen minutes, holding each other and weeping in their own sorrow.

“Did you name him?” Gracie asked Gary through the sobs.

“Yeah. Charlotte wanted to name him after me. His full name was Gary Michael Hill.” Gary said. This whole day had gotten worse and worse for Gracie. The tears ran down Gracie’s old, soft cheeks before she could try to stop them. This was a time for tears, so it did not matter.

Gracie spotted another couple approaching them. A man and a woman, holding hands as they came. They looked as if they were both about forty, forty-five years old. Once they looked over at Gary, Gracie realized these people were his parents. His bottom lip trembled. The parents realized what had happened; why their son was crying. The two people grabbed their son, and Gracie, then joined the sobbing party.

(3)

The male nurse Gracie had spoken to came around the corner, heading toward the wet-eyed group.

“Hello, everyone,” he began with a kind-slanted smile, “I need to know if you all still want to come see baby Gary.”

Gary asked, “Is my girl gonna be able to go, too?”

The male nurse looked at Gary. “Sure, if she would like. I’ll wait for you to get her up and ready.”

“Okay,” Gary said as he turned toward the room, “just a sec.”

Gary opened the door to room 205. His girl, Charlotte Gracie Harpor, lay on the bed in the dark, crying into her pillow silently. She was so quiet, he didn’t hear her at first.

He quietly made his way over to the bed, sat down on the edge, beside his wife, and grasped her hand in the dark. Their fingers intertwined.

“Hey, you,” Gary said with a tear still trying to push it‘s way out.

Charlotte did not respond.

“Charlotte?”

“What?” she finally said with a stuffy-nosed voice.

“They uh…they wanna know if we wanna go hold the baby. Do you…?” his voice trailed off.

He felt Charlotte’s hand tighten in his. It broke his heart even more.

“Gary, I can’t. I just can’t!” Charlotte said in the dark, then sniffed. He knew she had started crying again.

“Charlotte, we owe it to little Gary. We’re his parents,” Gary said, feeling his nerves about to break once more. He would be crying soon.

“Well he owed it to me to stay alive! Alive, Gary! Alive! But did he do that? No!” she screamed into the darkness of the unlit room. This outbreak had destroyed Gary’s heart. Ripped it up and threw the pieces all over the room. Tears had engrossed his eyes again, puddling up before streaming down his face.

“Okay. But I’m going even if you’re not.” he said to her in the dark.

Then her hand pulled away from his in the dark.

Usually he always kissed her head before leaving, but he didn’t have the strength to this time. Instead, he got up and left the room to be with the others.

He reached the door, pulled it open, and didn’t look back. He didn’t need to, for he could feel Charlotte’s eyes burning a hole into the back of him for leaving her.

He emerged in the hallway’s light. Looking to the right of him, he saw everyone sitting in a little group over by the windows to view the newborns.

This stormy night had taken everything from him. His happiness, his love…his son.

Not the day… a dark voice echoed through his head. He didn’t recognize it. Gary couldn’t tell whether it was just an inner voice or if there was someone speaking aloud. But after tonight’s events, he could give less of a damn over it. Once it faded, he noticed Gracie was looking deep into him. Not at him, but inside him. Had she heard it, too? Who cared?

Not me, he thought.

The male nurse had been standing up as he talked to the family of Hills and Harpors. All of them had broken-down into tears. Gary joined the posse and announced that Charlotte wasn’t coming.

“Why not?” Gracie asked in an angry voice.

Trying to regain his manly calmness, he said, “A lot of things have happened today, Ms. Harpor. Charlotte has a lot of anger built-up in her right now. Just give her some space, she’ll be fine.” Gary said in an attempt to cool things down. He could tell Mother Harpor was becoming restless.

“I agree,” the male nurse said. “When things like this go down, most people don’t speak for a long while. If you all still want to go hold the baby, I’d be happy to escort you,” he said with a gentle smile.

“I do,” Gary said.

The others agreed. So the nurse led them inside the room they had all been standing outside of. They saw all of the other babies fast asleep. A blanket was wrapped nice and firm around all of them. In the back of the room, there was a container which held another baby. The group of Hills and Harpors approached it in awe. It was the most beautiful child any of them had ever seen before. Thin brown hair; tiny hands; tiny feet; tiny nose. A gorgeous child brought these two families together on this dark night.

“There he is,” the male nurse announced.

Everyone’s eyes were staring deep on the little figure in the blue blanket.

“Sir,” the male nurse said to Gary, “would you like to hold your son?”

Gary’s heart dropped in his chest. At first, he almost said no, that he wouldn’t be able to do it. That it was too sad. But, instead, he nodded his head.

The nurse scooped the lifeless little body up, then walked over to Gary. Gary extended his hands out, prepping for the unknown weight of his son. The nurse slipped him into Gary’s arms, the weight not too much. Gary studied the face of this precious being. His son.

In all of his life, he never thought he’d have ever loved something so small so very much.

Then the grief began to settle in to his heart again.

He noticed how this adorable little figure didn’t budge, or even flinch at the motion against him. There was no heartbeat, no kicking, no settling, and no breathing. This thought turned Gary into a sobbing child now. He knew that his precious son was lying in a blanket upon a cloud in Heaven at this very moment. God had sent His angels to retrieve this perfect being, for the world was not yet ready for this wonderful person.

Baby Gary was now passed on to each person around the room, the last being Gracie Harpor. Gary’s mother was the only person who didn’t hold the baby. Her crying was too hysterical, and the possibility of her dropping the baby worried everyone, even the nurse.

Not like it would make a difference, that dark voice rang out in Gary’s ears.

(4)

Down the hall, a saddening feeling overcame the dark room in which Charlotte Harpor lay. If anyone happened to come in they’d probably think she were dead, judging by the motionless body. Even her breathing gave a show of some life remaining in the shell of skin and bones.

Charlotte could feel the fur of the little stuffed puppy Gary had bought and brought to her after little Gary finally made his way out. She wanted to just lay there, in the darkness, and cry. Cry until she couldn’t cry any longer (or ever again, for that matter). Her eyes must have looked like two puddles with a dark, bottomless pit in the bottom. But in that dark pit pain swished back and forth, harvesting into an anger toward the Father. Trying to overcome her sorrow was the biggest challenge she had right now. Such a young age, already having to deal with the loss of her first child. Possibly the worst thing a parent could feel is the notion of out-living their child.

Somewhere within her, she felt empty. Like a majority of her had escaped when her own guard had been down. A black emptiness was all that remained. Charlotte had a tight knot in her stomach. The knot felt as if the devil had been tugging more and more on it, and as her life went on, she lost more slack. She wanted to die. That’s it. She figured if she just died, maybe the pain would just be over. But that wouldn’t have been fair to Gary. He had already lost his first son, shouldn’t he be able to share the sorrow with her? Recover from the life-changing tackle?

Because my baby needs me, Charlotte answered the question in her mind.

The last two words echoed through her head: needs me…needs me…needs me…

With the trail of the thought still traveling- and settling- throughout her mind, she realized what she had to do. God had just offered her one last moment with her baby! Gary had just came in not five minutes ago saying they could go see the little babe which she had carried eight months and two weeks!

She needed to go.

She owed this last moment to her child. For somewhere in his little, lifeless body, she knew there was an infant spirit begging for his unknown mother’s comfort.

A mother never leaves her child in the shadows, no matter what situation it is.

And with that, Charlotte got up in her dark room. She slowly rose to her feet and shuffled across the floor until she reached the surface that had a small, thin line of white light pouring in from the bottom. Reaching out in the black depth, she found the handle, pulled it open, and walked out- into the white hallway.

A nurse came up to her immediately.

“Ma’am,” she started, “you need to get back in your room.”

“Look, my baby is somewhere in this hospital. I have to go see him. You gotta take me to him!” Charlotte exclaimed, seeing the refusal in this wide-thighed b***h’s eyes. She could see that the nurse wasn’t going to let her go see her baby. So she ran. Shoving the fat nurse out of the way, she darted down the hall. Charlotte knew the back of the hospital gown was probably opening wide and showing the prize, but she didn’t give a single damn. Once she reached the room with the big window, she spotted her family inside. Little Gary was nestled in Gracie‘s arms. At first, she almost asked how long the baby had been sleeping, then the sorrow shot her in the heart again.

Sleeping? The dead don’t sleep. After all she’d been through tonight, neither would she.

Gary’s eyes were the first to realize Charlotte had shown up. The fat nurse- whom Charlotte had tipped like a cow not even five minutes ago- was now standing in the doorway, a grimace on her face.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Gary called out to the nurse.

Her eyes shifted to him. Charlotte turned around to see the nurse.

“Your wife knocked me over before she took off after you all. You mind keeping a leash on her?” she said with a smart-assy sneer.

“Leashes are for b*****s, ma’am, so don’t make gestures towards my lady,” Gary said, then he decided to add, “You make about three of her, anyway. So I guess that makes you a bulldog.”

Charlotte started creeping over to the baby, perched up in Gracie’s arms. Gracie saw the wanting in her daughter’s eyes. Then, she held her arms out, towards Charlotte, baby and all. That baby was absolutely beautiful. She couldn’t believe it had come from Gary and herself, either. It was too…perfect. Reaching out, she collected her son.

“Sir,” the nurse finally emerged from the shocking comment Gary had made, “that was unnecessary!”

“You’re unnecessary!” he fired back rudely. His face had become red, a boiling tone of anger rising in his chest and temple.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Now.” she said in spite.

“You see that child right there?” he pointed behind himself, thinking little Gary was laying in the small box. He looked back to confirm he was pointing at the right container. The baby was missing in his sights, but then he happened to jet his eyes over to Charlotte, seeing his son perched in her arms.

“Sir…” the nurse insisted, approaching him while his back was turned.

As Charlotte’s tears rushed off her cheeks, they all splattered upon the stillborn’s stomach. To Charlotte, they seemed to be the loudest sound in the whole room, maybe even the whole world. The tears which were meant to be spilt for joy. The body twitched. She thought she had just misplaced her hand, but that hadn’t been the case; the baby had moved.

Or, at least, his body had.

A short cough from the corpse, then it’s hands crinkled up into tiny fists. At that moment, a huge wail tore through the hospital. Charlotte nearly fainted when she realized it was her child. Her mouth slacked open, and the tear’s flowing had stopped, but only for the moment. The baby’s body- little Gary’s body- began to squirm and whine and cry. Charlotte, along with everyone else in the room, nearly screamed. Everyone’s heart- even the nurse’s- stopped at that instant, trying to figure out if they had just entered The Twilight Zone.

When the baby finally opened it’s eyes, he saw a beautiful person. With the pretty lady there, staring directly at him, he had his first moment of love. And within that feeling, the crying seized and a smile crept upon baby Gary’s little face.

Slack-jawed, and stunned in awe, Charlotte smiled back even wider. Her baby was back! Back from the good old Lord in the clouds!

Wide-eyed, Gracie Harpor stared toward the used-to-be-motionless body, squiggling around in the arms of her daughter. Her grandson was here, and here he shall stay. She began to cry, too.

But after that last thought ran through her head, the Dark Man’s voice had returned to haunt and rot her mind. The echo from before roared and repeated: Not the day . . . Not the day . . . Not the day . . .

Terror grasped her once more this day. The hand in the dark clasped tight around her heart again. With every glance at her newborn grandson, she felt sick. When she had held the baby, the darkness seemed to stand at it’s highest point.

That night, in Roanoke Memorial Hospital, God had formed a miracle in the eyes of his children.

A stillborn had been reborn.