Dietre (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} deadly_delusion) wrote,@ 2008-01-06 20:34:00 |
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A Meeting... [Ten Years Ago]
The sun shone with sparkling brilliancy, birds twittered and sang in the trees above, and flower heads bobbed in a gentle breeze. But the world was dead and empty in a young boy's eyes, as gray as the cold mound of hard, carved rock that stood at the black mouth in the ground where his mother would soon be lowered. Swallowed forever. Like her blood had been.
Deaf to the droning of the priest, blind to the black clad figures around him, the boy could only see the maw in the earth, as hollow as he felt. But soon it would be full, wouldn't it? It was like a trade...Now it was his turn to have a hole, raw and painful. But the boy knew he'd never find anything to fill it. His would grow, grow until it ate him. Like the mouth in the ground was going to eat his mother.
He did not see the man across from him, the two of them separated by the polished wood of the double caskets, the boy's father in one, his mother in the other.
He did not see the torn look in the man's eyes, he did not know that he was watched, that the very sight of him was enough to break the man's heart with sympathy. He did not know what a feat that was, for the man's heart was known to be as cold and hard as any headstone. The man saw in the boy a reflection of himself, one he could not ignore, or leave behind.
- - - - - - - - -
The service ended, the gathered crowd breaking off, spilling away bit by bit. The man approached the boy, hesitant before kneeling beside the small figure. The boy gave no notice, only stared at each shovel full of dirt as it was thrust into the hole, the thud of dirt upon the fine wood of the coffin below echoing in his ears.
"..I am truly sorry for your loss, I was a friend of your father's.." A pause, for the boy had shown no sign of hearing. The man cleared his throat before going on. "Have you no one to care for you now? No relatives?" Another mourner, clearly a servant, interrupted to inform the man that the boy was left in the care of the butler, that he had no other family to take him in.
The man frowned, an expression at home on his features, and regarded the boy for some time. Then he leaned close, a hand falling lightly on a delicate shoulder, his voice hushed.
"...I know what killed your parents..I will believe you, if you choose to tell me."
At this the boy stiffened, head turning slowly toward the kneeling man. His eyes...what a cold intensity burned in them! No such gaze should ever belong to a child.
The man met it, then nodded once, standing.
"We will meet again, Dietre."
The boy's eyes never left the man, staring long after the car he had gotten into was gone...
The sun shone with sparkling brilliancy, birds twittered and sang in the trees above, and flower heads bobbed in a gentle breeze. But the world was dead and empty in a young boy's eyes, as gray as the cold mound of hard, carved rock that stood at the black mouth in the ground where his mother would soon be lowered. Swallowed forever. Like her blood had been.
Deaf to the droning of the priest, blind to the black clad figures around him, the boy could only see the maw in the earth, as hollow as he felt. But soon it would be full, wouldn't it? It was like a trade...Now it was his turn to have a hole, raw and painful. But the boy knew he'd never find anything to fill it. His would grow, grow until it ate him. Like the mouth in the ground was going to eat his mother.
He did not see the man across from him, the two of them separated by the polished wood of the double caskets, the boy's father in one, his mother in the other.
He did not see the torn look in the man's eyes, he did not know that he was watched, that the very sight of him was enough to break the man's heart with sympathy. He did not know what a feat that was, for the man's heart was known to be as cold and hard as any headstone. The man saw in the boy a reflection of himself, one he could not ignore, or leave behind.
- - - - - - - - -
The service ended, the gathered crowd breaking off, spilling away bit by bit. The man approached the boy, hesitant before kneeling beside the small figure. The boy gave no notice, only stared at each shovel full of dirt as it was thrust into the hole, the thud of dirt upon the fine wood of the coffin below echoing in his ears.
"..I am truly sorry for your loss, I was a friend of your father's.." A pause, for the boy had shown no sign of hearing. The man cleared his throat before going on. "Have you no one to care for you now? No relatives?" Another mourner, clearly a servant, interrupted to inform the man that the boy was left in the care of the butler, that he had no other family to take him in.
The man frowned, an expression at home on his features, and regarded the boy for some time. Then he leaned close, a hand falling lightly on a delicate shoulder, his voice hushed.
"...I know what killed your parents..I will believe you, if you choose to tell me."
At this the boy stiffened, head turning slowly toward the kneeling man. His eyes...what a cold intensity burned in them! No such gaze should ever belong to a child.
The man met it, then nodded once, standing.
"We will meet again, Dietre."
The boy's eyes never left the man, staring long after the car he had gotten into was gone...
