The Wilful Child

A child is too stubborn to stay in their grave and keeps popping out. An original character tale.

A life cut short. Too young to have lived. Parents shouldn't have to see their children die. It is a fate too cruel. War and death, a perfect fit. A slash of a wand, the end of a life. The green spell is the last thing ever to be seen. A frozen face filled with fear, filled with regret. They have yet to live a full life.

Magic. The magic of life, a miracle in of itself. This child will not rest. The eyes are unseeing, yet they still blink. The body is decomposing, yet it still moves. The heart does not beat, yet it still yearns to live.

Let them leave, let them have peace. They do not belong in this world. A world of war, of blood, of death. Do not make this more difficult, than it already is. Tears have been shed. Body lowered into the ground. Earth spread over the coffin.

Once again the arm stretches upwards, reaching for something that has already left. Hearts break again. Begging and crying. The mother forced, again and again, to push the arm back down. The cold, unfeeling arm. A child lost to war, cannot live once again.

The child ceased moving. They understood. Life is but for a fleeting moment. They could never grasp it again. At last the child had rest beneath the ground.