Grimm

Grimm - Part 1 - Once Upon a Time

I lay awake at night, listening. Listening for their voices, their cries for help. I lay there, eyes closed, imagining their faces in their final moments. I never knew any of those people, but I can't help but reenact how they might have reacted. They'd all be terrified, clawing at the ground trying to escape his clutches. Screaming and writhing as he drew them in for his masterpiece. I lay there listening for those very screams every night, wondering if I could have done something different to prevent it. If I'd have only moved faster, worked harder maybe this would have all been stopped a long time ago. I imagine myself saving them, reaching the source of their cries right at the perfect moment. Holding them close as they cry against my chest, I feel them slipping away. The reality of the situation takes hold of my conscious mind and their weeping bodies slowly grow fainter. They will look up into my face with their last strength, blood creeping out from their pursed lips. I try and stop them but they only stare into my eyes, slipping ever more quickly away. I reach down to touch them one last time, hoping that in doing so they will hold on to life, but they never do. Every night they die once more inside of me, this haunting anchor weighs on my souls, a drive yet a hinderance on my determination. A new face joins their ranks the more I come up empty handed. The longer I spend, the more of them there will be. It is my fault they continue to die, but it will be my fault they live.

On the porch I stood for a long while, waiting as if he would know I was there without ever needing to knock. My body quivered and my cheeks chapped with the chilling autumn wind that blew ever so shrilly against me. With rapid breaths I rubbed at my eyes, hazel eyes that were laced in red with amounting sorrow. No matter how hard I tried to hold back the tears and lose my mind in other matters, I would still find myself just at the brink of tears. Little beads building up like rain clouds, preparing for a momento that would trigger the downpour. The past weeks I had been slipping deeper into darkness; the loneliness caused by sadness was nothing compared to the sadness caused by loneliness. I had done my best to present myself on this day, dressing in the sort of clothes many men would wear during a church service. Still though, already my silk tie was stained with my dripping eyes and the whistling wind threw off whatever attempt I had made to polish up my coffee brown hair. Reaching up to knock, I caught a glimpse of of the encrusted ring around my finger. Squinting my eyes, I bit back the tears as I saw the Roman numerals leading up to five etched into the onyx. We had made the engravings small because we knew we would never leave one another; we were prepared to have those numerals wrap around the band dozens of times. With an unsteady hand I rapped my knuckles against the wooden door. Heaving out a heavy sigh I recited our vows in my head, "Until death do us part".

A quaint looking man greeted me at the door. He was dressed much like I was, but his clean shaven jaw enhanced his pale skin in the cloudy daylight. If one was to glance over this man without paying full attention, they would surely think of him as an elderly man. On the contrary, this man, Dr. Hamelin, was just entering his middle age. He would often times mock himself saying that he was blessed with wise features, but in all actuality he had merely an increased tendency to lose his hair and sprout up a wrinkle or two around his eyes.

"Detective Parker Reid, the police station informed me you would be stopping by but they never specified when. . ." Dr. Hamelin was a rather awkward person to socialize with on an informal level, but when it came to doing his job he was one of the best in the district. He had the power to sit you down and make you relieve yourself of all your worries and troubles. It was the consensus down at the station that over the last month I was beginning to lose my grip and sanity and could hardly perform my job to the best of my ability. At first I had refused the offer, but now I feel it is the only thing I can do to get my conscious cleared.

"My apologies, Dr. Hamelin. I hope I am not disturbing you, I can always revisit you another day if that is more appropriate." Forming a composure to not appear so remorseful and pathetic, I casually brushed dry the last of my damp eyes.