The steady beep of a heart monitor filled the sterile white room. Nervously, the doctor ran a hand through his thinning hair. He gulped in a breath of air. Even after all his years working at the maternity ward, it never got easier to break the news. "I'm sorry m'am, your daughter is dead." The doctor looked in pity at the couple, clutching each other as if the world was crumbling around them. Wetness glistened in the father's eyes, as sobs tore through the small frame of the woman, shaking her shoulders.
"What happened?" groaned the father. "I don't understand," he added in a tormented whisper. The doctor shook his head slowly, his glasses flashing in the fluorescent lights. "She was stillborn, we're not sure what happened, but we believe she was never properly alive to begin with."
The woman let out a gasp, "But she can't be dead," she muttered shaking her head slowly, "The baby's room is all ready for her, and we'll be taking her home and putting her to bed and she'll cry and we will be parents!" Her voice rose to a piercing shriek, and she cast an accusing glare towards the doctor. "You did this didn't you! You demon!" She rose out of bed slowly, shaking of the embrace of her husband. "Give me back my daughter you creature, you foul beast of the night!" She clutched at the table lamp, raising it offensively above her head.
"Honey, it's not the doctor's fault." said the man carefully, "He did all he could, but it was just bad luck, there was nothing to be done." he raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"You don't see it do you?" hissed the mother, disbelief coloring her voice. "How can you not see it?"
Her muscles tensed and she rounded on the doctor with a face of pure venom. He stumbled backwards towards the door, "Security!" he cried in a panicky voice, "Help!"
The woman lunged forward, swinging the lamp blindly smashing it over the head of the doctor. He crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, landing in an undignified heap on the floor, his glasses askew on his hawkish nose. "Dear God, control yourself!" he exclaimed reaching over to pull his wife away.
The door burst open and a pair of bulky security guards barged in, filling up the doorway with their hulking frames. The pair rushed over to the woman, pinning her to the floor and injecting her with a sedative. She thrashed beneath their vice like grip, as the fight slowly drained out of her. The woman's face relaxed into a picture of serenity, as the guards hauled her onto the bed like a sack of potatoes.
The woman's husband smoothed her hair away from her face, before turning to the guards, concern etched into his features, making him look as old as time. "Will she be alright?" he asked wearily, searching the expressionless faces of the guards. One scooped the doctor off the floor unceremoniously, as the other turned to the man and replied, "She will wake up in three hours." His voice was flat as an old soda as he spoke, and his expression was devoid of feeling. In unison the pair turned to the door, their boots clacking loudly on the linoleum tiles. They strode off purposefully down the hallway, the limp form of the doctor hanging over the shoulders of one. As the doctor was carried down the hallway, he allowed himself a pleased smile. He had succeeded and there was no way anyone would think that the poor doctor had done anything wrong. His forked tongue flicked out beneath his thin lips, as he reveled in his victory.
The gatekeeper sat sprawled upon his chair, his white robes glowing with a faint grey aura. He appraised the days deceased. Most had confused expressions upon their blurred faces, the others had blank gazes, turned to nowhere. He sighed, flicking his finger this way and that as he examined the person's life and sorted them into sections of the nether, all in a matter of seconds. Father of three, gave generously to charity, loving husband... better put him into the overlands. Wealthy heiress, selfish, unmarried, socialite, alcoholic, beat her dog... sounds like one for the fireplains. The gatekeeper flicked his fingers to the left, and the woman's aura shot towards a door brimming with ghostly blue flames. The line thinned as the gatekeeper sorted through the dead souls. His gaze softened as his eyes fell upon the last soul in line, the small aura of a tiny baby. Like all dead babies, she had her eyes closed, as if she were asleep. The gatekeeper raised his finger to send her to her eternity, when he paused. Her tiny hands were balled up in little fists, and she squirmed in her sleep. Stillborn children were most certainly not supposed to squirm. The girl opened her eyes, and the gatekeeper drew back. They were the exact ethereal blue of spirit energy, in fact, the child practically hummed with power. That was another thing stillborns were not supposed to do. They were supposed to be dull shells of wasted potential, empty of all life and spark, not wiggling little beasties with open eyes and an aura signature nearly as powerful as a councilman.
The gatekeeper slid off of his throne, stooping low to scoop up the child. She grasped at his nose, and hit him in the face with a pudgy fist. Panic lodged in his throat, this was wrong, so very very wrong. The gatekeeper's thoughts whirled as he raced towards the council chambers. "What would they do with the abomination?" he wondered, as he ripped a gateway through the nether. The gate swirled and pulsed angrily as he passed through with the child. He landed somewhat awkwardly on the other side of the gate, directly in front of the four councilmen. The lounged in their thrones, glowing as bright as suns to the withered eyes of the gatekeeper. "My lords," He began stuttering, "I am required to pass judgement upon this child, to determine their fate, but it is . . . peculiar."
"In what way is this child, peculiar?" asked a councilman, arching a brow.
"Her aura is far too powerful to belong to a stillborn, or to any mortal, for that matter. Surely you can feel it?" The gatekeeper replied, and if he were alive, sweat would've dripped from his neck.
The councilmen closed their eyes, as their energies probed the room. Tendrils of silver snaked around the child, immediately recoiling when they touched her. The chamber was silent as the council processed what they had seen.
Their eyes snapped open in unison. "Send her to Operium." the council spoke in a single haunting voice.
The gatekeeper stumbled back in alarm, "But that fate is for those doomed to wait forever. Why are you sending her there?" he asked, his hands quaking.
"Do as we say, or your fate will be much worse." The council intoned, rising from their thrones menacingly.
The gatekeeper snapped his fingers, opening a gate that swallowed the child. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a curt nod from the council, "Begone, and do not approach this subject again." The council said with a note of finality. And being a sensible wraith, the gatekeeper ran from the council, and didn't look back.
YOU ARE READING
Speaker of Shades
خيال (فانتازيا)Anais was born dead. In a rare occurrence, she grows up in the nether, land of the lost souls. A colorless land of those who have lived through their lives, and been deemed worthy enough to rest peacefully. Mystified by the tales of the living r...
