Times were hard. Food was scarce, money even more so, and at times of great need, people will do anything to survive. They will turn their backs on the things that they value most, they will dare to do things that they know are wrong purely to survive. Sometimes, when times look their bleakest, people will turn their backs on their beliefs for one more day of life. For one more moment to spend on earth, hopeful that in the end things will get better.
Far from home, in a house that seemed to be so far from civilization her husband despaired of the travel there, Mrs. Gladys Calxton was ill; she was learning the lesson of survival surrounded by her husband and their two small children.
'Daddy, will the doctor come soon?' their youngest asked, a little boy of no more than four. His eyes were filled with tears as he clutched his mother's hand.
'Soon,' his father promised, but the words were hollow; it felt like poison on his lips. The storm was raging outside and there had been no means of contacting the doctor. No one was coming. They were on their own. He watched as his wife's eyes flitted restlessly behind her closed eyelids. Part of him longed to give her the release that she so needed. He could easily put her out of her misery, there was a gun tucked away carefully in one of the cupboards, unused for months, possibly years. Yet he did not do it because of the children. Because, despite their empty bellies and their own pain, they wished that their mother would get better.
He knew better than to hope for that though. There was no saving her. He wished there was, but deep down he had to be practical. Their three children were what he needed to protect, needed to sustain.
Carefully, he placed a soft kiss on his wife's fevered forehead. If the snow kept up there would be no way of getting food. No way of making sure that the children pulled through the winter.
Except, there was one idea he dared to entertain. The thought seemed to grow as he felt his wife fading, as he noticed that her eyes seemed to move less behind her eyelids. As he felt the remained of her strength ebb away, as she drew her final stuttering breath, he knew what he had to do.
The idea made him sick, but there was no other way, and he was determined to protect their children no matter the cost.
Mr. Nathaniel Claxton had finally decided that, following the thawing of the snow, he should check that his brother and his family were safe. The town had been alive with rumors that the family had been stuck in their house for the weeks following the largest storm of the year. There were whispers of them staying in the house even when the worst of the weather had passed, simply because they had forgotten what it was like to come back down to the little village and be with other people. Nathaniel thought it was utter nonsense, but that hadn't been enough to deter the little niggle of concern from worming its way into his thoughts.
He had hoped to get there sooner, but boat crossings still took weeks. He hadn't even known that they were stuck until he arrived home to find a telegram from his brother complaining about the oncoming storm, about Gladys falling ill. There had been a follow up one from their mother fretting that she hadn't heard anything from the grandchildren in weeks. And so, Nathaniel had taken it upon himself to head up to the house.
But, there was no answer. He had knocked several times and was about to give up when he could have sworn that there was movement at the door.
'Zachariah, is that you?' he called, amusement laced behind his voice. The youngest of his brother's children was always pulling tricks on him. He seemed to have a wicked streak that Nathaniel found rather amusing.
Again, his taunt was met by silence. The niggling doubt that had wormed into his thoughts clawed at him now. Something was very wrong. No one in the village had seen them, and Nathaniel was almost certain that he hadn't missed them coming down the track on the way to the house.
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Rising Light
FanfictionIt has been a couple of years since that fateful night in Newcastle. Without her old crew, Kate Bastille has been dealing with her demons through fight after fight. There is no magic, no light for the cursed. That is until a certain occult detective...