Kamma Wild Cat
Lv.99 Fighter
Posts: 14
(10/1/00 4:06 am)
Reply
|
Out Of The Dark (CHAPTER ONE)
Here's Chapter One...Harry Mason sat on his king sized bed with his knees bent up to his chin. He pushed his short, light brown hair away from his tear filled eyes. His hands were shaking. He hadn't even noticed until now. He was far too occupied thinking about how he was going to unleash the bad news on his daughter. The news, that her mother had died.
Mary Mason, Harry's wife, had contracted a mysterious disease only six months before. The doctors at the local hospital had done everything in their known power in order to attempt to save her life. That night she had taken an unfortunate and unexpected turn for the worse and had passed away. Harry wasn't even at the hospital when she died. He had just arrived home two hours before. He had just received the phone call. He closed his eyes tight as tears began to slowly appear. He couldn't help running the conversation over in his mind.
* * * * *
"Hello, Mason residence?"
The voice on the other end was that of a young female. Her voice was gentle and calming.
"Mr Mason?"
"Yes"
"My name is Dr Hatfield. I'm afraid I have some bad news..."
* * * * *
The remainder of the conversation had seemed like a blur to Harry. All he remembered was the doctor explaining that Mary had died due to a sudden blood clot in the brain. It was then he had truly realised that he now had to bring Cheryl up alone. He knew this was a fact and it scared him. He had heard many tales of what some children grow up to be if they're missing a parent. Even the most innocent of children could grow up to be rebellious. He was determined not to let his little girl end up that way.
Harry took a good long look in the mirror. He hadn't realised how scared and grievous he looked. His brown hair once again fell limp over his eyes and his tear stained face.
He had never cried infront of Mary. Not even when they discovered that she had contracted the terrible disease. He would most certainly never have cried infront of his three year old daughter, Cheryl. Except this time. When he told her the news, he was worried he might not be able to prevent himself. Right now Cheryl was sleeping, and Harry was glad.
"Okay Harry, pull yourself together". He ordered himself. He didn't even like the fact that he was like this sometimes. He frowned in anger at his own behaviour, even though he knew it was totally expected and natural in a situation like this.
He slowly stood up and trudged into the bathroom. He left the light switched off despite the fact the he had always preferred the light to the dark. Besides, he didn't want to look at himself. Not right now a least. He felt guilty for not being at the hospital when his wife died, for not being able to say one last goodbye. He also felt that also felt that he had let his entire family down, himself included. Only now, they weren't a family.
Harry sat at the foot of his daughter's bed. He still felt sad and guilty, but he had taken a shower so he felt a bit better. Cheryl was still sleeping soundly. Harry looked at her. She definitely got her looks from her mother's side. He then shifted his view over to the clock on the wall. Midnight. He pondered over whether to wake her now to tell her, but decided to let her be and tell her the unfortunate news to her in the morning.
Harry awoke later than usual. He tiredly glanced at his clock. 9:30. Then, as if by force of habit, he reached over to where Mary would normally be. A look of realisation and sadness came over his face when he found the space next to him empty. It was then he truly realised that it would be empty forever.
* * * * *
It was now four years to the date after Mary's death. He was standing at her grave with a large bunch of yellow roses. He knew that they were Mary's favourite and even though she was not alive any more, he still wanted her to be happy, just like he always had.
Cheryl had recently turned seven, and because Cheryl had been saddened by the fact her mother was not there for her birthday, Harry had offered to take her on a small vacation. It was coming on autumn, but he didn't mind. He knew that he could use a vacation himself. He had spent four years mourning for his wife's death, and as painful as it seemed, moving on was his only option. He didn't want to let Cheryl grow up with a depressive father.
Harry knelt down on her grave. The grass was crispy. It hadn't rained much lately. It never did around this time of year. Instead it was warm. Warm with a slight breeze which caused leaves to gently drop off the trees to later be decomposed in the graveyard soil.
"Hi Mary" he said shakily. He had never felt comfortable talking to her grave. It seemed eerie to him. But none the less this was his only communication with her now.
"Listen, I'm sorry I haven't been to visit lately" he went on. "But Cheryl's birthday came up, and I've been organising a little family vacation...". He stopped there. What was he saying? Family vacation? They weren't a family. Not without Mary being there. He immediately felt guilty. He took a deep, shaky breathe as he could feel the tears once again welling up in his eyes.
This was one day he hated. Every other day of the year is was permissible for him to block out the sadness that his wife's death brought him, but on this day, he felt guilty if he didn't at least visit her grave.
"I'm sorry Mary, but I need to move on or I'm gonna send myself and that poor girl crazy!". He hated himself for saying it, but even he had to be honest with them both. "I'm not sure if I can come back here again because it's tearing me apart having to come here every year, knowing that you're not coming home". The tears were falling down his face now, and the breeze had picked up slightly. He looked up to see the blue sky being eaten away by grey clouds. 'Sure, set the mood' he thought. He then left the roses on the grave and left the cemetery without looking back.
Harry got home thirty minutes later. He didn't need to pick up Cheryl from school as he hired a baby-sitter every now and then to fetch her and look after until he got home from wherever he was. The cemetery was nearly ten miles from home and he didn't have the time to get to Cheryl's school. Besides, he wanted to be alone. For the moment at least.
"Daddy!" yelled an excited Cheryl as she run into her Dads arms only seconds after he climbed out of his jeep. He smiled and hugged her. She was holding her sketchpad. Harry had brought it her when she was five and she had kept it ever since. Scrawled on the front was a picture of Harry. Cheryl had drawn this as soon as she had it. It showed how much she loved her father.
"Hi Mr Mason" said Amy, the baby-sitter. It had always been Amy. Mary used to baby-sit Amy so he couldn't think of anyone more trustworthy. Harry felt obliged to reply with: "Come on Amy, call me Harry. You've known me for years!" he added a laugh. Amy nodded and Harry paid her and she headed home. He then knelt down to Cheryl.
"Did you behave yourself?" asked Harry. Cheryl smiled brightly and showed her Dad the back page of her sketch book. The page was separated but it had a drawing on it.
"I drew this for you, Daddy" said Cheryl. Harry took a good look. It was of himself and Cheryl. In the background there was a picture of an angel. Harry felt a lump in his throat when Cheryl told him it was her mother watching them from Heaven. He knew he had better change the subject.
"Guess what honey, I sorted our vacation out, we leave in a couple of days". Cheryl's face lit up.
"Where are we going Daddy?"
"Silent Hill..."
| HEAR THE SILENCE | SILENT HILL 2 |
* * * * *
THE FEAR OF BLOOD TENDS TO CREATE FEAR FOR THE FLESH
* * * * * |
Email This To a Friend
Topic Commands
Click to receive email notification of replies 
Click to stop receiving email notification of replies 