May 23, 2011 - 4:07pm — Rutilus
The streets were void of life save for the odd bat that tore silently past. Blinds and curtains were closed. Doors were locked, cars were parked. The world was still.
"He'll rot there."
A quiet, sharp laugh rang from her throat, ashen hair trembling as she shook her head. Talking to herself - how silly of her. But no matter.
"I'll keep you safe."
She patted her stomach, looking down at it for several seconds, stopping in the middle of the street to do so. Slowly, a wry smile flickered onto her sharp features.
"You're almost a curse."
Her shoes clicked again as she walked, eyes straight ahead of her.
"It's not your fault. We made you, after all."
The woman fell silent, and for a long time, she kept going. Eventually, there were no streets - only tree and grass and moss. She looked around, and to her left, a tree caught her eye.
It was not a remarkable tree. There was nothing striking about it at all - it was just a tree, green-leafed and full, brown like the rest of the trees, no marks on it, no scratches, no indents. By all means it should not have caught her eye at all under ordinary circumstances.
But these were not ordinary circumstances.
A slender hand tapped on the tree's thick trunk, and, leaning in close, her full lips parted and a quiet voice came from between. "Young tree, is anybody home?" She crooned at it, sing-song, eyelashes clasped together as she rested the side of her face against the rough bark.
'The keeper does not wish to see you.'
"Oh but it's important, young tree, I promise you." Her voice had lowered to a whisper.
'The keeper does not wish to see you.'
"Would he wish to see me upon gaining the knowledge that my child will no longer have a father, and once born, no mother?"
'The keeper is listening.'
A shaky, shuddering intake of breath. She was limp against the tree now, but her hands clutched at it, pleading, desperate all of a sudden. No longer the serpent she'd been before.
"I'm going to die."
'The keeper wishes to inform you that Death comes to us all.'
"But not you, dearest keeper, not you - you could keep her safe, you would keep her safe, I know it, you would let no harm come--"
'The keeper does not understand why the father cannot care for his child.'
For a moment, the woman looked angry. But then her previous expression returned, eyebrows pulled upwards, eyes tightly closed once more.
"He is unfit to be a father--he--he cannot step foot outside! You know this, dear keeper, you know it, you know all--"
'The keeper is no God. The keeper does not require flattery.'
"Please--please, please, promise me, keeper--promise me she'll be safe."
She was on her knees, now.
'The keeper suggests that you bring the child to the keeper once it is born, and the keeper shall see.'
"Yes--thankyou--anything, I'll give you anything--"
'The keeper has no requirement for anything you might possess.'
Silence, wide eyes staring at the tree, hands stroking it lovingly.
'The keeper is resting.'
Understanding that she had been dismissed, the woman knocked once more, and fled.
I am very intrigued.
Mission accomplished!
Ohh snap. I second Pega.
Cheeers :'D ♥