AN: Here we go, one of my late-night stories that I, personally find to be
my best. Um...I'd like to thank both nationmckinley16 and Magenta McKinley
for all their help and support. *Sniff* I love you guys!
I have been speechless the last few months, unable to fully comprehend what has happened. To start out, I kept on having that dream, every night, where I turned into my mother. Every night the dream became more revolting to me. My mother became more revolting to me, I could not think of her without picturing her back turned toward me, walking away when I needed help the most. Was I destined to become the same, apathetic person as she? Was this a sign that hiding my feelings from the world would soon conceal them to me as well?
My child came in the fall, a season of endings, with everything dying around us, there was Daan. With his curly red hair and dark eyes, he was certainly odd enough, but there was nothing physically or mentally lacking. He was just strange. Never crying, never laughing, no nonsensical babble, just those eyes, looking through you to something more important, looking into his history, his dark beginnings, and...his future, and end.
In spring, that season of rebirth, Cyproheptidine left us. She took to bed, complaining of aching muscles, and within twenty-four hours, she was sweating and delirious. Though she hated me and I feared her, I tended her during her last hours. She left without any emotional dying words, no last pleas of forgiveness, she just stopped breathing. But perhaps in the end she got her revenge, two days later, Daan followed her.
This left three occupants in the castle, and the atmosphere grew even more dismal and unbearable. I was now eighteen, and still had two years left in this hellhole, and I couldn't wait to escape. Again, I had the same saving grace.
It must have been hard for him also, having a son so briefly, and my growing so distant after his death, yet he was always there. I saw him cry for the first time when we dumped Daan into the ocean along with Cyproheptidine. As the last lock of red disappeared under the waves, I was reminded again of my dream. Riff Raff, always the strong one stood crying, and there I was with a stolid expression on my face, much like the one my mother wore when she first sent me to the palace.
AN: OH MY GOD!! I AM SO GOOD! Damn am I good! I am seriously impressed with myself, and now I can go to sleep happy.that is, after my Tori Amos CD finishes.
I have been speechless the last few months, unable to fully comprehend what has happened. To start out, I kept on having that dream, every night, where I turned into my mother. Every night the dream became more revolting to me. My mother became more revolting to me, I could not think of her without picturing her back turned toward me, walking away when I needed help the most. Was I destined to become the same, apathetic person as she? Was this a sign that hiding my feelings from the world would soon conceal them to me as well?
My child came in the fall, a season of endings, with everything dying around us, there was Daan. With his curly red hair and dark eyes, he was certainly odd enough, but there was nothing physically or mentally lacking. He was just strange. Never crying, never laughing, no nonsensical babble, just those eyes, looking through you to something more important, looking into his history, his dark beginnings, and...his future, and end.
In spring, that season of rebirth, Cyproheptidine left us. She took to bed, complaining of aching muscles, and within twenty-four hours, she was sweating and delirious. Though she hated me and I feared her, I tended her during her last hours. She left without any emotional dying words, no last pleas of forgiveness, she just stopped breathing. But perhaps in the end she got her revenge, two days later, Daan followed her.
This left three occupants in the castle, and the atmosphere grew even more dismal and unbearable. I was now eighteen, and still had two years left in this hellhole, and I couldn't wait to escape. Again, I had the same saving grace.
It must have been hard for him also, having a son so briefly, and my growing so distant after his death, yet he was always there. I saw him cry for the first time when we dumped Daan into the ocean along with Cyproheptidine. As the last lock of red disappeared under the waves, I was reminded again of my dream. Riff Raff, always the strong one stood crying, and there I was with a stolid expression on my face, much like the one my mother wore when she first sent me to the palace.
AN: OH MY GOD!! I AM SO GOOD! Damn am I good! I am seriously impressed with myself, and now I can go to sleep happy.that is, after my Tori Amos CD finishes.
