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| Man of Substance | Started by: Sal-Giaquinto on Jun 11, '08 13:13 |
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From a lonely pier, two man carry another towards the end. Staggering and drunk, he offers no resistance towards tying of his feet to a heavy weight. They offer their farewells, their apologies and toss the weight into the sea, behind it follows the doomed prisoner. Then the plunge. The cold chill of sea around him, an awakening surge, death an approaching reality. It all began to fade and blur together. Tick tock tick tock. His lucky watch counted down his last minute. Prayers of forgiveness, for his own mistakes, thoughts of family and regrets race through his mind. His watch stops as does his heart of hearts. A possible ending no doubt, but what about the rest of the story? |
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All one can smell is the sterile scent of a hospital room. A laboring mother-to-be propped forward on the bed, legs spread open. She pants and offers painful tears with each thrust, plunging her son out of the womb and into the world. Husband, doctor and nurses all hoping to assist and further the process. They call out with instructions and encouragement. Their voices flow together, blurring into unison. It was just her and her child. With each push, her child slow climbs into reality and finally the hands of the doctor catch him from the womb. A son is born. With the proper strike to the backside, his lungs are cleared and his cries of confusion fill the room. The mother slowly reclines, exhausted by the nine month ordeal. No man could understand such a thing, but she knew the real work was about to begin. For now she could rest. The doctor gentle wipes the blood from the newborn and places him on the bosom of his maker. The two cuddle and embrace. She kisses his moist and soft head. "Thank you doctor." says the father. A warm smile serves a geninue your welcome. "He seems healthy, a good heir for you paisan." The father smiles at that complament and from a distance he watches over his wife and son. |
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| Reply by: Sal-Giaquinto at Jun 11, '08 13:37 | |
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Her arms are wrapped tightly around her precious new burden. Her cheek rests upon the soft forehead of the child and her eyelids wrinkle, fighting back the tears. The baby knows nothing. It hears everything and yet perceives nothing what-so-ever. The heat and the snug embrace of his mother is comforting and he makes no noise. The pain and the rush of hormones do nothing to help the weight she feels on her shoulders. Her husband, feeling proud, but helpless at the moment touches her head gently and strokes her unkempt hair. His fingers are thick and rough from years of abuse and work. He wants to help, but doesnt know how. He knows he should be able to do something, but is unable to know exactly what it is. He should be able to fix this and he fights impatience. Must be patient He tells himself. Just give her some time She half hiccups, half coughs attempting to stifle her cry. This is her first pregnancy and somehow she feels....empty. She searches, but can only find creeping guilt that she, apparently, is missing the connection to the boy that she thought she should have. Why? She silently asks. The tension grows in the room. Her husband can feel it in the shadows and he furrows his brow slightly trying to pin down its source. His wife can feel it crushing heavily upon her... |
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| Reply by: LucioMasi at Jun 12, '08 17:05 | |
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