Post by Jessy on Jan 5, 2006 6:03:51 GMT -5
Well, this is a story I just started writing. :
Prologue
It was morning, early enough for there to be an eerie silence among the trees yet late enough for there to be some light to illuminate the silver bark. Winter was gently giving way to spring and buds were slowly forming on the naked boughs. The ground was still cold though, and treacherous patches of ice were still to be found, especially in the darkness of the forest. A low wind was blowing from the east and for some reason, a slight smell of burning was to be found, when no smoke nor fire was to be seen. Clouds had gathered overhead, a deep, ugly grey and it was clear that rain was to come.
Two people where hurrying through this bleak scene. The man had once been tall, still was, yet now he was hunched over, his face, beaten raw by the weather and his journey. His hair was filthy for they had had no time to wash. His face was etched in a picture of despair and worry. He was right to worry. In a few days he, and the woman struggling to go on beside him, would be dead.
The woman was in much the same condition as her husband, for that was who he was. Her features were contorted in pain, her cries muffled by her own fist which she had forced into her mouth. Her other arm was wrapped around her pregnant belly. To look at they seemed a pair of miserable wretches, but their eyes told a different story. They burned brightly with determination, the kind of determination that overcomes all other things. Determination forged of love.
The woman stumbled over a tree root and as she hit the ground it became clear that she could not travel further. Her husband knelt beside her as she screamed once more in agony and tried to soothe her for what was to come.
And so it was that a few hours later that a small, raw pink baby boy was delivered into the world. His mother smiled as the child, its eyes still screwed up against the daylight, was placed in her arms. Gently she placed her hand over his eyelids, covering them, and waited until she had felt his lashes brush against her fingers in opening and closing. Then, removing her hand, she fed her son and watched him as he slept until her own eyes closed, never to open again. She breathed her son's name to her husband as her final breath.
"Corian."
Little did her son know that by covering his eyes, his mother had given him freedom and his own fate. Nor did he know why his father cried so bitterly for Corian's mother when his father knew full well he would die soon after.
He did not know that his father was fated to heaven, and his mother hell bound and he the only child ever born to be neither.
Prologue
It was morning, early enough for there to be an eerie silence among the trees yet late enough for there to be some light to illuminate the silver bark. Winter was gently giving way to spring and buds were slowly forming on the naked boughs. The ground was still cold though, and treacherous patches of ice were still to be found, especially in the darkness of the forest. A low wind was blowing from the east and for some reason, a slight smell of burning was to be found, when no smoke nor fire was to be seen. Clouds had gathered overhead, a deep, ugly grey and it was clear that rain was to come.
Two people where hurrying through this bleak scene. The man had once been tall, still was, yet now he was hunched over, his face, beaten raw by the weather and his journey. His hair was filthy for they had had no time to wash. His face was etched in a picture of despair and worry. He was right to worry. In a few days he, and the woman struggling to go on beside him, would be dead.
The woman was in much the same condition as her husband, for that was who he was. Her features were contorted in pain, her cries muffled by her own fist which she had forced into her mouth. Her other arm was wrapped around her pregnant belly. To look at they seemed a pair of miserable wretches, but their eyes told a different story. They burned brightly with determination, the kind of determination that overcomes all other things. Determination forged of love.
The woman stumbled over a tree root and as she hit the ground it became clear that she could not travel further. Her husband knelt beside her as she screamed once more in agony and tried to soothe her for what was to come.
And so it was that a few hours later that a small, raw pink baby boy was delivered into the world. His mother smiled as the child, its eyes still screwed up against the daylight, was placed in her arms. Gently she placed her hand over his eyelids, covering them, and waited until she had felt his lashes brush against her fingers in opening and closing. Then, removing her hand, she fed her son and watched him as he slept until her own eyes closed, never to open again. She breathed her son's name to her husband as her final breath.
"Corian."
Little did her son know that by covering his eyes, his mother had given him freedom and his own fate. Nor did he know why his father cried so bitterly for Corian's mother when his father knew full well he would die soon after.
He did not know that his father was fated to heaven, and his mother hell bound and he the only child ever born to be neither.