Requiem for a Child Chapter 1.1-3

Daniel is dead. A birth; a life created; a life to slip quickly away.

A beginning to an end that never had a beginning to it at all.

A child; a prodigy that has perished into an abyss of some unknown. Lost, forever, in the catacombs of an unobserving world. So quick does this particular tragedy strike; unenviable, and without seeming purpose or heart, vacant any realm for compassion. How cruel fate can be. He is a child gone; deceased from all who will love him.

He will never be forgotten.

He will remain within the very hearts of those who never knew him.

Could a child be born and lost in one moment? Spanning only a speck of what we think life should be. That life could be abandoned in such a single frame of time leaves nothing to his adventure for the human world.

The things he could have done…

The world he could have changed…

This pardon is not without the refuge of something unknown.

A veiled mystery never to be unearthed – or could life actually have a second chance? Yet the prospects of his influence might be left undone – or is it?

Does hope, in fact, still have another opportunity?

The matter is more of a tragic event that his life was so short indeed: all of one day. There is nothing more that would give us pause to remember his history or his tradition; there is none.

But his family knows.

His family had seen this tragedy once before – the sin of fate had once again come to revisit them.

It is the year of our Lord 1451 in the southwest lands of McCarthy, in a little known, small village upon the bottom cup of Ireland; and held in Irish lordship and sway for as much time as one can remember, and even beyond. The Irish and English have been in constant conflict for nearly three hundred years to this day. But there is no direct distinction with this date or a time within history. But no matter; fate has cursed the most innocent of souls and there is indecency within this mere conclusion. Yet as articles of Truth and recording goes, Daniel met with a tragic end much the same.

Yet you might wish to know his conclusion and what brought about such a state as this. All who were there are of the similar influence. The land was not barren, but of green grasslands and long, rolling hills. You could hear the swatch of sheep roam the upper regions with somber grazing and variable calls. The land itself seemed to sit in the pit and palm of Heaven, and so bask in equal tranquility as its holy counterpart does.

But there was nothing to the measure of peace for Daniel's family. The parents had long-endured hardship working these lands such lords required of them; and to remain as keeper and custodian upon these fields and livestock. Not to work the lands would mean sudden expulsion and homelessness.

Such a joy, seven months prior, to have been so informed they were to be blessed with a third child; perhaps another son to assist their father in working the fields and livestock. John and Mary Mulligan had sought the refuge of such happiness. Every day seemed like a continual joy from the previous one. And as time brought Mary closer to the moment of Daniel's birth, an eternal hope appeared to cast their hardships away and give them more than what was required of them. That life was somehow good.

Still, as time would persist, that horrible moment came.

A blessing to become a mortal curse – a second child lost in birth.

A precious gift taken away.

It was in the evening hours when Mary felt something not of the norm. Contractions became quickly inconsistent. A physician and mid-maid were hurriedly called upon. The tragic sum of events brought about a horrific night as Mary agonized through the pains of labor. And though, as such remedy as a physician and his assistant may render, it could not be served to save young Daniel from this inevitable end. Daniel was breached and quickly turned.

The delivery was harsh and difficult. Upon his arrival it was quickly determined he was still; quite still.

As the joy of birth should normally follow; as quickly as the mourning was to ensue. Mary held to her lifeless child and in turn, so too did John. They wept the tears from the deepest sorrow; a flood which could not be breached. It is said the depth of such sadness only imposes its formidable will in such extraordinary times as this.

John and Mary's shadowy expressions told the terrible story of a lost son.

The mourners could see their loss in the blink of that shadow.

Still; the banished hope waned and all was lost; all mercilessly lost.

There was a silence which endured into all moments. The family had been torn. Now, they were both vacant parents to this glorious child called Daniel. An insurmountable bridge had suddenly collapsed within their relations. They cuddled Daniel; spoke to him; took breath of him in every moment possible; prayed to God for blessing and forgiveness. And to this end, they would soon have to release Daniel to Heaven and its unknown boundaries.

What could people say? The hearts of so many would tremble at the sight. A child lost; a dream banished and to evaporate. No cause, nor reason for this mystery. Heaven knows, but it's not telling. The pieces to that mystery would have to be unfurled and unraveled along the long duration of time. Perhaps, in some day long awaiting them, the answer would come and carry peace with it. Till then? A day, an hour, an eclipse of seconds strung in a unified way would build the rest of life, experiences, and history together. This would need to be woven.

Still, together, they both wandered through these moments; in shock, infernal turmoil, a sense of unholy matters, longing for what is lost, hoping that nightmares somehow only come in dreams – all this they could awake from and yet find Daniel still in the bed of life and their happy future together.

Sometimes roads will travel a different course.

Sometimes Heaven doesn't seem to hear or respond.

Sometimes the lessons have no apparent meaning at all.