The Child

Reads: 27  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 24, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 24, 2018

A A A

A A A


The Child

The winds whistled fortuitously the day it was born. They whistled across the meadows, playing the wheat like violin strings, setting them a-hum with vigour and melody. They whistled down the streets, weaving in and out of the railings, playing with laced hems of matronly underskirts, tugging at the tips of gentlemen's ties and doffing workers' caps. They whistled in through the ever-so-slightly-ajar window of the dank back room of the tenement's second floor where its mother was cursing this unfortunate, unbidden, unloved being out of its hostile sanctuary. They skirted furtively along the edges of the room, gathering behind the back of an austere wardrobe filled with years of accumulated life detritus.  And all it took was a whim of a whistle of a wind to nudge that wardrobe, setting it on course to topple onto the woman who had beaten her husband since the day they married until his death nine weeks previously (a heavy blunt object, they said), squashing her flat and speeding the delivery of the child within who popped out like a New Year's champagne cork. Mrs Barton, from next door and who had accustomed herself to the peace and quiet of the past two months, upon hearing such a thud had thought something amiss (as  much as Mrs Barton were able to conceive such a thought), and put down her glass of gin to take her kindly soul to that room to investigate. Witnessing the scene she called for Dr Patterson who came immediately with his trusted bag of ointments and pills, needles and bandages and other such mending materials, and he concluded that indeed the woman was past saving but that the child was not. The umbilical cord was severed, ending its brief link with its mother, of whom it would know nothing until it was too late, many years from now. And then those winds whispered their whims, tripping past the pinna of Dr Patterson and flowing into his ear, so that when the child turned grey-green eyes upon the doctor's weary face and set his heart aglow with tenderness, the doctor decided that the only thing to be done was to take it away from this squalid slum before some hard-up relative sold it into a life of servitude, and raise it as his own in the respectable neighbourhood where he dwelled with his good wife and their dog, Bathurst. The kindly Mrs Barton's silence was bought for some pounds (the full amount of which will not be discussed for reasons of discretion), and the whistling winds, tied now to the infant, lapped at the doctor's feet as he walked back to his domicile unaware of the changes that would bring heartache and solace in equal quantities. The child smiled.


© Copyright 2018 KM3037. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Literary Fiction Short Stories

Booksie 2018 Poetry Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by KM3037

The Second

Short Story / Fantasy

The First

Short Story / Fantasy

The Quiet

Short Story / Fantasy

Popular Tags