Madeline's Lament [Cyrus/Lavender] Dec 17, 2014 17:35:01 GMT -5
Post by The Sidhe on Dec 17, 2014 17:35:01 GMT -5
Mist from the early morning lingered in the town of Elmley. Soft grey lingered over the fields and in the streets, it swirled about the feet and ankles of passersby as it hung low and left their vision clear. Townhouses made of white plaster and dark wood framing held up slanted roofs of worn shingles. Long and low little shops had only just flipped their signs around to read “Open”, and many still appeared half asleep and already wishing for the day to be over so they could return to bed. Car drove carefully through the narrow streets, children marching along the smooth pavement with their parents on their way to school.
The children that were left anyway.
Mothers and fathers and siblings old enough to be out of danger held onto the next generation o the town tightly. Hands held onto smaller ones tightly or rested on shoulders. They eyed the area constantly, watching for anything out of place and wearing looks of haggard anxiety indicative of too much worry and too little sleep. The children were no better off. They stuck close to the sides of their guardians, hanging onto arms and wrists and appearing suspicious of those around them, even those wearing familiar faces. Thinly veiled fear shone in their eyes and in the absence of morning smiles and greetings. Friends did not run to greet each other or speculate as to what the day would bring, there was no skipping or jumping through the puddles left by recent rain. There was only silent and hushed conversation.
Dark clouds loomed overhead, threatening more rain that Oliver waited to start pelting the windows of his room. He would be one of several kept home from school today out of fear, fear their parents felt with the possibility that they may see death coming for them. He watched the somber looking procession parade through the town and down the street towards the little school, appreciating the few children he knew that spotted him and waved. He didn’t wave back. He only darted his eyes away to look out over the marsh outside of town, to the barely visible shadow in the distance responsible for his inevitable demise. It was far off on the horizon and near invisible through the morning glare bouncing off the mist, but knowing the house was still there sent a chill through him.
He could hear his mother moving about downstairs, tidying up breakfast and likely trying to make everything presentable for their future visitors. Oliver wanted to tell her it was hopeless, remind her that there was nothing to be done. He’d seen the woman in black from the window, she’d seen him. He’d heard her wailing as he’d grabbed Emma and ran from the dead gardens they shouldn’t have been playing in. It was a death sentence, one many a child had suffered for years. It was only a matter of time before she came to collect him now. There was no point in trying to get away. It hadn’t worked for anyone else, there was no reason if would work for him all of a sudden after ten years of terror from a curse two years older than he was.
At least Emma hadn’t seen her.
There was a knock on his door and dull brown eyes flitted over to see his mother checking in on him, opening the door just a crack. He wondered if she was afraid of seeing a shadow in a black dress looming over him or if she simply feared she would soon walk into his room and find him lying dead from apparent suicide on the floor. Both were equally possible and both made his heartache. His father was gone and they had lost his brother the year before. Now she was going to lose him too, and there was nothing Oliver could do, no amount of pleading to the woman in black that she not take him and leave his mother all alone.
“Ollie, are you ready? They’ll be here soon,” she said softly, daring to open the door now that she could see he was alive even if he wasn’t well. The knowledge that his life would end soon had him looking even paler than usual and a look of resigned anticipation for something awful to befall him hung heavily on his face. He was dressed for school and rain but would not be dealing with neither today, no longer permitted to leave the house unless his mother was with him. Oliver nodded solemnly and turned his eyes to the window again. The clouds were moving in closer, the sights growing greyer. It would rain very soon.
His mother stepped into the room, moving to attempt to smooth out defiant locks of his hair that defiantly stuck out at odd angles. The black strands resisted and she gave up, bending at the waist to hug him tightly around the shoulders. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, “They’ll get that awful woman and you’ll be okay, I promise.” Oliver didn’t believe her shaking voice and said nothing.
As she left the room and shut the door behind her he couldn’t help but think that his mother really shouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep.
As he turned away from the window and made to leave the small alcove seat behind, something made him pause. A dark figure clouded his vision and a familiar sense of dread rooted itself in his chest. Stiffly, he turned around to stare out the window again, a chill settling in his bones as he stepped forward and closer to the panes of glass.
Just like she commanded him to.