Spring was slowly but steadily approaching the small village in Normandy. It was already the middle of March, and the snow was starting to melt, sometimes revealing the soaked green grass under it. On the dirt roads there were smaller and bigger puddles and mud made it more difficult for both people and carriages to get through them. Even though the temperature was much more pleasant during the daytime and many villagers walked outside in the early afternoon hours to enjoy the light breeze, that one window remained shut and draped on the very edge of the small village.
People were gossiping about the inhabitant, who did not step out of the house for two weeks at all and left her windows and drapes closed during the day, and did not answer the door to anyone but the Priest, who only informed the villagers, if he was asked, that the poor woman was in a terrible state of mind and health, as she lost her husband and baby on the same day. She needed some time alone, he would always say. True, the woman only attended the funeral, where two coffins were put in that same grave, but one of the coffins were so small it only contained a baby. The poor woman was out of her mind with grief, constantly sobbing, and stating she wanted to follow "Maurice dear" and she was unable to have that burden all alone.
- Something isn't right with that house. - the "witch" of the village, who was walking barefoot even in the middle of the coldest winter, chewed on tobacco and consumed an ungodly amount of beer per day at the local tavern, pointed out in an evening, while she was ominously staring at the direction of the house.
- You say so because you wish someone to pay for a jug for you, so you can entertain us with a story of your messed up mind while you drink, just as usual, Matilda. - some drunk gentleman retorted.
- Think what you want, but I heard a baby's cries last night when I passed the house. - She replied on her gruff voice, then spat next to her foot. - A bit of muffled by some clothing.
- You are already drunk. - The innkeeper laughed out. - Do you perhaps think that the ghost of the dead baby visits its home in a shroud that muffles its cries?
- Just don't get too much surprised if you see something unusual.
Matilda turned away and left without another word, which wasn't what she would normally do. People only shrugged then, knowing nothing of the issue which was indeed present in the village.
Meanwhile, when night fell, and complete darkness and a chillier weather arrived with stronger wind, the window finally opened, but only on the upper floor. The drawing room was still in the dark and without any fresh air. She was afraid one might look towards the house and see… see… what a stupid idea. She knew ell they would not be able to see that horrid thing from the road, the window was too far away from the road to make it possible for a passerby to notice anything from outside, and anyway, she always kept changing locations for the crib and the nasty inhabitant, being afraid someone might SEE it… She was weak after the childbirth and the lack of fresh air and excercise, but she couldn't bear to get outside, with or without It. And finally, dragging the crib here and there all alone became her exercise during those days. She could not bear to stay in the same room with It for too long, and she kept putting it away all the time when she felt the being was starting to poison the room in which it was placed. Finally, It moved down to the cellar, but that place was too cold to keep a living being down there, especially so young, might it be whatever horrid to be put in an ordinary room… but she felt like she could not go on like this, staying under the same roof with it. She tried her best, she really did, in these past weeks, to maybe slowly get used to it, but she felt she won't be able to, simply. The choking and unneeded and unwanted presence of that thing drove her insane with disgust, so she hid to the furthest corner of the house from that creature, thankfully it wasn't able to follow her…yet.
Babies develop, and one day, not too long time from now, that whatever it is, will be able to walk after her, or at least creep through the house. She shuddered to the thought of those inhumanly thin and long fingers touching the carpet and the small horrendous creature crawling after her, stubbornly, always in her heels… and that sound… whenever she approached the stuff, it gave out terribly disgusting wheezing sounds, maybe because the lack of its nose. Again she shuddered and strong nausea took over her when she recalled the features of the… no, she could not call it neither a baby, nor a child. She received a "blessing" she did not ask for and lost her child she had been waiting for for 9 months… twins… every parent wants a son… when she was small, and her mother gave birth to her sister, relatives were saying "well - well, another girl? Maybe once you receive a boy". Well now she did receive a boy, instead of her Mother, if that draft of a human can even be called as a boy. Apparently, it is, as it has proper genitals, but in return it lacks a face. The formation it has instead of a face can be called anything but a child's face. That monster… no one shall see it…
She already wanted to put a pillow over that disgusting little head and free herself from that burden she was left behind with, but she could never bear herself to do it. She did not want to commit murder, and she knew if she committed suicide, that would not solve anything either, only it would cause her to be buried in unholy ground and the thing either slowly die of starvation or villagers killing it when they find it…
But she can't stay in the same house with it any longer, she knew well it will only make her go insane. She isn't strong enough to take care of it. Someone else shall instead of her… but who? If not even a Mother can love that thing and promise to raise it in love, how can she expect and imagine someone else to do so other than her?
There is no orphanage in the village, if it was, she would have an easier job to get rid of the small creepy creature, but the nearest one was in Rouen. It wasn't the journey itself which scared her, as she would be able to go there if she really wanted to, with the pest, but it was most likely that the thing will cry during the journey either because of hunger or being untidy, which will draw attention on it, and the journey will take day and night anyway, there was no possible solution to get there only in the dark, when people are asleep and not moving outside. The "baby" being noticed by anyone was something she wanted to avoid by all cost, as in the mask she made for it, it is too much conspicuous, and they will most likely keep asking why the baby wears that cloth over its face… and without it it is even worse. She was ashamed of the thought they will link the child to her, in any way, even if they just see them together for a few seconds.
She needed to find a closer solution for that awful situation, which can be done under the protective dark cape of night.
On the muddy dirt road leading out from the village, a woman was standing confusedly, holding a laundry basket which was covered by more layers of blankets, completely folded over the opening. She did not only do it to protect the thing from wind and drizzling rain, but to cover the nasty truth from others eyes before it was yet too early. She thought she would try to put the basket on the doorstep of the local butcher and his wife. They were already supporting and feeding 8 children, and Mme Viande was already pregnant with their newest baby. They had a kind heart and loved children. The baby was due in the near future, or it was already born. Finding a helpless orphan would most likely move their heart. She did not fear the consequences of leaving the boy to a family in the same village. There was no way with the boy's looks to link them together and know about she was the mother. They thought her only child died, no one knew about they were twins and the little monster stayed alive and there was no resemblance between them to make people suspicious about that might be her son.
She put the basket down to the doorstep, and hurriedly took a few steps away, hoping the thing won't start crying until she disappeared… but… something did not allow her to walk away without a word. At least she should check the little burden, maybe she put too many blankets on that malformed mess as a face…? Is it still alive?
She crawled back, so no one will see her from a window, and leaned closer to the basket, pulling the covers off of the masked head. The draft of a human baby was still breathing, wheezing and it made some cooing sounds.
Strange, when it was making any noise save for wheezing, it was nearly cute. She could not word why, though. But when it was crying from the top of its strong lungs, she could have thrown it out of the window, and she knew she couldn't take it back home with her. Her life will be easier, getting rid of the small burden.
- Be a good boy. Don't cry. Bye.
She whispered then quickly turned around to leave as fast as possible.
On the way home she was crying, but by the time she arrived back to her home, she was relieved in a strange way. She wiped her forehead, not being noticed by anyone on the way both there and home filled her heart with endless relief, and she now knew everything was all right and the way it should be. She wished a good night and the most pleasant life possible to her monster son, and went to bed, to finally, after weeks, sleep well for the first time.
Sleeping though, wasn't as easy as she imagined it to be. When she went to the huge Louis- Philippe bed to stretch out, her gaze met the wedding portrait of Maurice and her. Looking at the face of her late husband, she suddenly presumed to see a hint of accusation and sadness in his eyes, upon looking down at her from the framed picture. Guilt… it is only her guilt which makes her see so. Maurice dear, you would not want to have him, if you were here! No… he can't blame her for it! That's just the way it should be. It shouldn't have been born in the first place, or if it was, it should have been the one being born dead, not the beautiful small girl… how utterly unrighteous! She has to be buried and he… with that face… lives…
Well, it isn't her problem any more! She hadn't completely abandoned him in the woods, damn it! They are going to raise him. That thought can't ruin her good mood and relief. She will be a new woman from that point. Living her own life, freely. Without a nasty burden poisoning her days, making her unable to go out in public, even for shopping, and constantly fearing her monstrous offspring will be noticed. They shall pester Mme Viande, not her.
Tossing and turning for some more time, she finally made up her mind to forget about the small inconvenience which shaded her days, and in the morning she shall visit Maurice's and Suzanne's grave to say good bye to them, properly. When she was at their funerals, she was nearly hysterical with grief, and only thought about herself. Time to finally talk to them as she should.
During the night though, she woke up several times and did not have a good night's sleep, as she should have. Looking at the portrait of Maurice always made her feel uncomfortable, and she did not even dare to argue with him in her mind any more. She got up in a half sleeping state to go and check on the boy, and only when she stepped to the crib she realized it was empty.
He did not cry to be fed… he was missing. Because if her. Then why can she still hear his cries?
That is only a malformed baby. What if they hurt him…? How could she trust villagers with handing them a hideous baby like the boy and expect them not to hurt him out of fear?
- Oh, please, Cécile, make him stop crying for Heaven's sake!
M. Viande crossed his arms on his chest in dismay.
- I am trying. - The poor wife replied, being utterly worn out of her own children, including her newborn, and now the troublesome and ugly newcomer, who wouldn't stop crying for a minute since they took him inside.
- Whose child is this at all? - The man barked, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his nightshirt. - Who can give birth to such a freak?
The baby was the ugliest thing he saw in his life with the nasty yellow skin, the missing nose, the sunken cheeks, the extreme level of thinness and the sunken yellow eyes. He looked like a mummy of a child who died and was embalmed thousands of years ago, the only difference was this child was indeed alive, crying and moving.
- Please. - The wife tried her best to breastfeed the infant, seemingly not much older than a few weeks, but his malformed lips made it difficult for him to eat properly and he was choking on milk constantly. - We can't keep him. - She shook her head sadly. - I think I shall take him to the doctor tomorrow to see what can be done about him.
- We are not paying doctor's bills for a baby we don't even own. We have enough children without him, and he clearly scared Annette. She doe not dare to come out from under the bed.
- I know, but we can't abandon him completely like his mother did.
- You are right. - The man sighed in a more compassionate mood. - I shall take him to the Father in the morning. God's servant he is after all, and shall take care of miserable human beings like him. Maybe he knows a nearby orphanage where the nuns will take care of him.
- Might be it is the best for the poor child. - The woman sighed, cradling the baby to make him at least calm down somehow. - Don't cry, please… don't cry, little boy.
- Let him weep. - Monsieur Viande replied softly. - He has the reason to weep, maybe he already knows.
Guilt, remorse and worry chased her out of the house early in the dawn. She wore nothing else than a linen scarf around her head to protect herself from rain which was getting heavier, melting and turning the remaining snow under her boots into a nasty sticky mixture. Wind was constantly blowing rain in her face, making her face wet and raindrops mixing with her own tears. How could she abandon the baby…? It is Maurice's son… after all… the only being linking her to Maurice still… why he has to be so ugly?
Approaching the house of the Viande family, not even caring about having to explain she wanted her baby back, she noticed the basket on the ground, turned to its side, and her heart sank with fear and worry. She ran to it and turned it upside but the boy was missing from it. Only the covers remained, covered in dirt.
- Oh… oh no… - She whispered anxiously, and ran through the village, knowing she could not waste any seconds.
Asking everyone she could think of, if they saw a baby, made the villagers think she had gone mad with grief. She did not succeed in finding her son. Her son she threw away from herself… No one saw him. She did not know if it is a good or a bad thing in itself, as at least, no one was able to harm him… but he is now gone and she can't make it any better. She failed as a mother… she could not even take care of an infant.
In her final despair, she visited Maurice's grave, not caring about the rain which was falling even heavier than before. She knelt down in the wet grass, soiling her skirt, to ask for her late husband's forgiveness for how she was acting. If she had the chance once more, she would try her best to grow up to the duty and raise the boy… whatever he looked like… She was sobbing uncontrollably on the ground, for a long period of time, when suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.
Looking up, she noticed the Father standing behind her.
- What are you doing here? - He shook his head with a small sad sigh.
- I have sinned… - She cried.
- I know. - He nodded. - Did you regret it?
- I did. - She whispered.
- With all your heart?
- Yes, Father. - She swallowed back her upcoming tears.
- Will you work on your sin to make it better?
- I don't know how to do it, Father but if you help me to find the baby, I will.
- You don't need to search any more. - The man looked at her with a forgiving smile. - He is with me, inside.
- Is he? - She jumped up with excitement.
- Yes. - The priest nodded. - Thank God M Viande took him to me and did not show him to anyone else, being afraid it might bring bad luck to the villagers. Please understand you have to take care of him and be more careful. He could have been killed.
- I know. - She whispered.
- Come now. - The priest led her by the arm to the rectory. - You shall rest up a bit and dry your clothes before you take him home. My maid fed him, he is now sleeping.
- May I see him? - She asked, without her better judgement this time.
- Yes, of course. See him and try to see him with God's eyes this time. God loves their children equally. Think about it.
Upon being led to a smaller room and noticing the boy put in the priest's own bed, she had to realize not everyone was as repulsed by this child as she was. Or maybe they were able to disguise it better? Maybe she should be more tolerant of him and within some time it will get better? Looking at him now she felt a strange kind of happiness and relief she would never have thought to feel towards that baby. She approached him with some unsure steps, and even though she still did not dare and bear herself to touch the maskless face, she knelt down to be at the same level with him and said:
- Welcome back. I was worried you got hurt. I am happy you did not though.
Without any other words she reached into the pocket of her apron, lifting out a small mask from it and gently put it on the baby's head. The priest shook his head in dismay in the background but did not say a word - not even God created the world in only one day.
Change requires time.