{ justprompts - - birth
May. 24th, 2009 10:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
someolddogBirth
The letter came on a weekday in a blue and white striped envelope. On the back it was sealed with a small yellow duck sticker. The pastel envelope was relatively harmless looking. It was the return address that frightened him.
For nearly a day he let the letter sit on the coffee table silently hoping if it might just vanish from existence or merely be a figment of his imagination. He went about his day normally. First he went into town to stock up on the essentials, then he went to the bank to ensure everything was in order. Everything in the day he took in his stride even going so far as to have a beer down at the hole-in-the-wall bar. Late in the evening he arrived home. There sat the striped envelope. Elliot felt himself become hot under the collar and he started to sweat on the cool night until he finally convinced himself to sit down.
The tip of his calloused thumb slipped under the corner of the sealed flap and he pulled up with care as not to rip the top across, but to actually unseal the flap in its entirety. Inside was a card: it was white with a cheerful blue bear on the front and cursive text that proudly proclaimed "IT'S A BOY". Fear flooded his heart. As if it were some unstable substance he removed the card fully and held it on the tips of his fingers and continued to stare for some time before he managed to open the card. The small poem inscribed meant nothing to him. The only thing he needed to see was the name Jeffrey Stephen Wash accompanied by the image of a small infant in mid-wriggle wincing at the mercy of a camera flash. The cold terror flooding his soul died away for a moment: the tiny hands and beautiful slitted eyes were too miraculous to hold him in a dark place. Elliot couldn't help but crack a smile, his thumb smoothing over the surface of the photograph affectionately.
It was then he noticed the envelope held something else: a small folded piece of paper. Before he even removed it Elliot recognized the swirling aroma of Leeann Troupe's perfume and lotion. Intoxicated by the image of the precious infant and the smell of woman he took up the letter and began to read.
My dear Elliot,
I have sent a copy of this letter I hope you are receiving to every address I can think of. If you don't receive this one I hope your parents will at least forward their copy to you. To this day I can't say I understand why you left after hearing such good news. For days I would cry and rack my brain trying to search for a reason until I finally decided that I had more important matters at hand. I hope one day you might explain it to me. I have always been patient and will wait for that day, but until that day does come I will be keeping myself busy with our son Jeffrey. I hope the name is to your liking- I wanted to honor my grandfather.
He's beautiful, Elliot. The photo does not do him justice. His grip is strong and his eyes seem to glow with life. With every wiggle, every burp and every clench of my fingers I am reminded of how much he is like his father.
I hope you are well. I hope one day you will come back to see us. There are obligations to having a child we need to discuss, but I hope for this more for Jeffrey's sake.
Good luck, Elliot.
I love you.
-- Leeann
Slowly he folded the letter back up and placed it back in the envelope. His mind was reeling and his body seemed to be at the mercy of some massive unseen weight. All he could manage to do was continue to stare at the picture of the infant and finger the edges of the photograph as if he hoped the barrier would break and allow him to see the child for himself. His eyes wandered to the calendar which was marked with his chicken-scratch handwriting. The next cycle of the full moon was marked in red and as only four days away. He could already feel the bristling sensation of pain in the marrow of his bones. No, he couldn't see them now. It broke his heart. Quickly he slipped the picture away in the card and set it down. He caught his head in his hands and let out a lofty sigh. He had made many mistakes before in his lifetime but this on he was entirely unsure of. His logic told him this was a massive one while his heart foretold nothing but warmth and good things to come. She had told him she might have been pregnant and he fled out of sheer fear for their well-being, but also for fear within himself. Foolishly he acted as if the birth were never to happen and vowed to never be so careless again.
Now that carelessness was not only apparent, it had a precious human face.
Summoning all the strength and willpower he had he glanced between the calendar, the card and a half-unpacked suitcase from an adventure so long ago. Elliot had never had much brains for logic or patience, but he was always commended on his heart and intention. He would see them after he had recovered from the latest cycle. There was no harm in packing early though, was there?
As he started to transfer a pile of clothes from the sofa to the suitcase the envelope once more grabbed his attention. With a small smirk he plucked the photo out delicately and took a pushpin from off the wall.
He pinned the photograph above the wall by the suitcase so he might have an incentive to get through the week.
The letter came on a weekday in a blue and white striped envelope. On the back it was sealed with a small yellow duck sticker. The pastel envelope was relatively harmless looking. It was the return address that frightened him.
For nearly a day he let the letter sit on the coffee table silently hoping if it might just vanish from existence or merely be a figment of his imagination. He went about his day normally. First he went into town to stock up on the essentials, then he went to the bank to ensure everything was in order. Everything in the day he took in his stride even going so far as to have a beer down at the hole-in-the-wall bar. Late in the evening he arrived home. There sat the striped envelope. Elliot felt himself become hot under the collar and he started to sweat on the cool night until he finally convinced himself to sit down.
The tip of his calloused thumb slipped under the corner of the sealed flap and he pulled up with care as not to rip the top across, but to actually unseal the flap in its entirety. Inside was a card: it was white with a cheerful blue bear on the front and cursive text that proudly proclaimed "IT'S A BOY". Fear flooded his heart. As if it were some unstable substance he removed the card fully and held it on the tips of his fingers and continued to stare for some time before he managed to open the card. The small poem inscribed meant nothing to him. The only thing he needed to see was the name Jeffrey Stephen Wash accompanied by the image of a small infant in mid-wriggle wincing at the mercy of a camera flash. The cold terror flooding his soul died away for a moment: the tiny hands and beautiful slitted eyes were too miraculous to hold him in a dark place. Elliot couldn't help but crack a smile, his thumb smoothing over the surface of the photograph affectionately.
It was then he noticed the envelope held something else: a small folded piece of paper. Before he even removed it Elliot recognized the swirling aroma of Leeann Troupe's perfume and lotion. Intoxicated by the image of the precious infant and the smell of woman he took up the letter and began to read.
My dear Elliot,
I have sent a copy of this letter I hope you are receiving to every address I can think of. If you don't receive this one I hope your parents will at least forward their copy to you. To this day I can't say I understand why you left after hearing such good news. For days I would cry and rack my brain trying to search for a reason until I finally decided that I had more important matters at hand. I hope one day you might explain it to me. I have always been patient and will wait for that day, but until that day does come I will be keeping myself busy with our son Jeffrey. I hope the name is to your liking- I wanted to honor my grandfather.
He's beautiful, Elliot. The photo does not do him justice. His grip is strong and his eyes seem to glow with life. With every wiggle, every burp and every clench of my fingers I am reminded of how much he is like his father.
I hope you are well. I hope one day you will come back to see us. There are obligations to having a child we need to discuss, but I hope for this more for Jeffrey's sake.
Good luck, Elliot.
I love you.
-- Leeann
Slowly he folded the letter back up and placed it back in the envelope. His mind was reeling and his body seemed to be at the mercy of some massive unseen weight. All he could manage to do was continue to stare at the picture of the infant and finger the edges of the photograph as if he hoped the barrier would break and allow him to see the child for himself. His eyes wandered to the calendar which was marked with his chicken-scratch handwriting. The next cycle of the full moon was marked in red and as only four days away. He could already feel the bristling sensation of pain in the marrow of his bones. No, he couldn't see them now. It broke his heart. Quickly he slipped the picture away in the card and set it down. He caught his head in his hands and let out a lofty sigh. He had made many mistakes before in his lifetime but this on he was entirely unsure of. His logic told him this was a massive one while his heart foretold nothing but warmth and good things to come. She had told him she might have been pregnant and he fled out of sheer fear for their well-being, but also for fear within himself. Foolishly he acted as if the birth were never to happen and vowed to never be so careless again.
Now that carelessness was not only apparent, it had a precious human face.
Summoning all the strength and willpower he had he glanced between the calendar, the card and a half-unpacked suitcase from an adventure so long ago. Elliot had never had much brains for logic or patience, but he was always commended on his heart and intention. He would see them after he had recovered from the latest cycle. There was no harm in packing early though, was there?
As he started to transfer a pile of clothes from the sofa to the suitcase the envelope once more grabbed his attention. With a small smirk he plucked the photo out delicately and took a pushpin from off the wall.
He pinned the photograph above the wall by the suitcase so he might have an incentive to get through the week.
