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Writing Machine
Join Date: Aug 2005
Location: Middle Earth
Gender: Female
Posts: 1,599
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The Exchange (Revised Again)
I posted this one a while back, but I've added and changed a few things, so I figured I should post the new-and-improved version.
The Exchange
The sky got darker by the minute, making a smooth transition from day to night. David stared through the glass, his eyes taking in everything and yet nothing at all. His mind wandered worlds away, back to a happier time in his life. He’d been a young man, full of the dreams and expectations of youth. His wife had been a beautiful young woman, filled with life and energy.
Neither of them could have dreamed of the places their lives and decisions would take them. They had trusted Fate, had surrendered themselves to it and believed that it would be merciful. Looking back at the sleeping woman, it was obvious to David that they had overestimated Fate’s affection for them.
Isabella succumbed to sickness shortly after Haylee, their daughter, died. Her spirit simply could not handle the loss of her little on after having her for so short a time.
Not that I can blame her, David thought. She had to deal with the loss of both her parents not so long ago, and now our firstborn. It’s all my fault. He was the cause of all their suffering. Death sought his life, and their misery would have no end until he had breathed his last.
He looked down upon his wife. A fever racked her brain, and she suffered dementia most of the time.
My sweet Isabella, you deserve so much more than this.
David turned from the window and moved to the vacant armchair by the bed. He sighed as he sat and prepared for his nightly vigil: watching his wife as she slept.
He yawned, feeling sleep creep into his brain and body, and quickly snapped his eyes open as they threatened to close in slumber. The end crept closer every minute; the least he could do was stay awake and be with her in her last moments.
As the fire dwindled and died, David felt his eyes begin to droop once more. The rush of wind in the room brought him back to awareness. The window stood open, wind screaming in and blowing the curtains wildly. David quickly stood and shut the window, firmly locking it. Stealing a glance at his wife, he saw that she slumbered on, undisturbed by the wind. It was a small blessing.
As he walked back to the chair his blood ran cold and he froze in place. Standing on the other side of the bed was a giant robed figure. It stood over his wife, seeming to consider her in her fevered state. David involuntarily backed against the wall. His legs shook and he struggled to breathe.
This isn’t happening, he said to himself. Not again. He looked back at the figure just as it reached an arm out to his wife. No! It can’t have her!
“Get away from her!” he shouted. The cloaked figure turned it’s head towards him. David could feel the creature’s eyes boring into him, as if it was looking into his soul. After a moment more the creature looked back at the sleeping woman. David let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He regained his composure when the figure bent over his wife once more.
“Just get out of here, do you hear me?! I will not let you take her!”
The figure seemed not to take any notice of him. It just continued to stare in silence. David pulled himself from the wall and forced his feet to walk towards the figure.
I will kill it, if it is the last thing I do.
Then, with a voice both high and low, a voice as rough as sandpaper, the figure said, “She will never wake again.” David stopped walking. The fire roared to life at it’s words and then settled into a simmer. David thought he heard a bell ringing in the distance, somber and slow.
“Who are you?” David asked. The figure looked back at him from beneath the hood of the robe. David shivered.
“I thought you’d recognize me, David. We have come across each other so often in your life.”
“You are right,” David said. “I do remember you, but not with a loving memory, I can assure you.”
The figure stood up and took a few steps towards David. David felt his heart pound in his ears. The sound banged through his head like a drum. The figure stopped a few feet in front of him.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on me, David. I do only what I have to, when I have to. Now, how often have we encountered one another? Let’s see.” The figure began to count on bony fingers. “Once, at the death of your mother. Twice, at the death of your father. Thrice, at the death of your daughter.” Finally it stopped once more in front of David. “This counts as the fourth time, at the death of your wife.”
David clenched his fists.
No.
“You’re lying. She lives. She breathes. She will make it through this.”
“Oh-hoh, she may live now, but that is why I have come to take her.”
David ran to the fire and grabbed a poker, then stood between the robed figure and his wife.
“You may have taken my parents, and my baby girl,” he said defiantly. “But let me tell you now, you shall have to go through me first if you want to take my wife, Death.”
Death chuckled beneath his hood.
“ ‘Tis not your time David, but it would not be too difficult to take you as well.”
“Then do it!” David shouted.
“He can’t,” said a soft, melodious voice. David turned and saw another robed figure standing in the corner of the room. This figure wore a blue robe, and it didn’t take David long to realize that it was a female, with long curly-blonde hair. Death stared at her as she came forward, reverently inclining his head as she passed. She did the same and stopped before David.
“You are also familiar with me, David,” she said, her voice gentle and caressing.
“I am Fate, also known to some as Destiny. Although Death is the only one who can take you from this life, I am the keeper of when that time shall be. Your wife’s time is now. Death has the right to take her, and you cannot prevent it.”
David fell to his knees before her. Desperation dripped from his voice as he pleaded with Fate.
“Please, be merciful. We surrendered ourselves to you, trusted you. Please, help us.”
“There is nothing I can do, David,” she said solemnly. “Let her die in peace. You are only causing her worse pain. Would you have her live the rest of her days like this?” Fate gestured to his sleeping wife, still sick with a fever. David glanced at her and slowly turned back to Fate.
“There is no way I can save her?” he asked, failure and acceptance creeping into his voice.
“There is one way,” a raspy voice said. David looked to Death, but he had not spoken. Another dark-robed figure stood over his wife beside Death. David started.
“Who are you?” he asked the new figure.
“I am called Misery,” the phantom said. “The depressed spirits radiating from this house were so strong, I felt drawn here. Now I can see why.”
Misery bent over the sleeping woman and gently caressed her head.
“You said there was another way to save her,” David said.
Misery looked up at him and nodded.
“Yes, I might have said that.”
“Tell me,” he said with determination. “I’ll do anything.”
“Be wary, David,” Fate warned. “Some prices are too high to pay.”
“I don’t care,” David declared. “She’s worth it.” Fate sighed and Death chuckled.
“We could make an exchange of sorts,” Misery said. Death chuckled again as bewilderment covered David’s face.
“An exchange?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, a simple exchange, really,” Misery continued as he began to circle David. “Your life for hers.”
“Think about this, David,” Fate warned before he could respond. “She is very ill, and not so young anymore. She will probably catch another illness within a year and die anyway.”
“But she will perhaps have at least one more year,” David stated. “That’s better than nothing.”
“Not if she spends that year depressed and alone,” said Fate. “Think about it, David. You would be dead, What would she have left to live for? Your only daughter died at the age of two. Your wife has no living relatives. She would be alone, and in greater pain than she’s living in now.”
“Not my Isabella,” David said. “She could go on, I know she could. It would be hard at first, but deep down she’s a fighter. She’ll be fine.”
“Yes,” Death agreed. “Perfectly fine.”
Fate folded her arms into her robes.
“That is all the warning I have for you, David,” she said. “Do you still wish to trade your life for hers?” David looked at Misery.
“One question,” he said.
Misery nodded his head in approval.
“What do you get out of this?” David asked.
Death laughed from where he stood.
“Are you so daft, David? Can you imagine the sorrow your wife will feel at your death? The depression she will face, knowing she could do nothing to save you? Our friend Misery here thrives on such situations.”
David looked to Fate for her opinion.
“I’ve told you what I think, David. It’s up to you now.”
David turned to Misery again, resolution filling his eyes.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“Very well, then,” Fate said. She bowed her head and David felt his mind swim. As darkness enveloped him, he collapsed on the floor.
“Bella,” he whispered.
The sound of Death cackling rang in his ears.
David woke suddenly, covered in sweat, his skin burning.
“Bella,” he called.
A cool hand came to rest on his head. It gently stroked his hair.
“Shh, I’m here darling,” a woman’s voice said. David turned and looked up into the face of his wife. She was healthy and full of life, gently rubbing his hands and running her fingers through his hair. Her long black curls fell about her shoulders, no longer moist with perspiration as they had always been.
“Where am I?” he whispered as he fell back against the pillow.
“Don’t speak,” Isabella whispered. “You’re home, in bed. You’ve had a horrible fever for the past few days now. I’m here, though. I won’t leave you.” David grasped her hand and gently kissed it.
“You’re okay?” he asked her.
She looked at him quizzically.
“Of course I’m okay, darling. Now sit up so you can eat. You’re as thin as a bone.”
When he wasn’t too weak or tired, David talked with his wife and shared memories. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy. She had always been too weak to do anything but sleep and eat a little.
Isabella never left his side, whispering words of encouragement and love, even when delirium seized him. He closed his eyes, took deep, yet shallow breaths, and opened them once more. In the corner stood a dark robed figure. It glared at him, considered him, and took a step forward.
“Isabella?” David whispered.
“Yes darling. I’m here.”
“Isabella,” he said again. “Promise me that when I’m gone you’ll continue to live, that you’ll never give up on life.”
Isabella’s eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t talk like that, David. You’re going to make it, I know you will.”
The robed figure took another step.
“Promise me, Bella,” he whispered.
Isabella kissed his hand, tears streaming down her face.
“I promise, David,” she said.
David kissed her hand in return. His head spun as the dark figure took yet another step. Darkness began to envelop him, stealing his consciousness.
“Never forget your promise,” he whispered.
Another step.
“I won’t,” she said.
Another step.
Darkness.
“I love you, Bella.”
Isabella knelt over David and kissed his forehead. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks as she cradled his head.
“Why do you weep, when he is not yet dead?” a raspy voice asked. Isabella jumped from the bed and fell onto the floor.
“Who is in here?” she asked. Her body trembled. The door was locked. There was no way anyone could have entered.
“It is only us,” a voice answered. Two hooded figures appeared on the other side of the bed. Isabella covered her mouth to suppress a scream. A bony hand protruded from a robe and pointed at her.
“You are afraid, I see, but you have no reason to be. We’re not here to hurt you,” the voice said. Isabella struggled to stand.
“Who are you, and what do you want from me?” she sobbed. She crawled onto the bed and wrapped her arms around David as if to protect him.
“Oh, we want nothing from you,” the second said. “I’m merely here for your husband.
“No!” she sobbed. “Please, I’ll do anything!” She pulled David closer, her tears falling into his hair. The robed figures chuckled.
“Well, there is one thing you could do, if Fate allows,” the first one said. Isabella looked up into what she thought must be the face of the hooded figure.
“Tell me, I’ll do anything,” she said. The figure chuckled again.
“Well, we could make an exchange of sorts.”
David awoke and quickly sat up. He was still in his home, in his own bedroom.
What happened? The last I remember, I was watching over Isabella…….
Memories quickly rushed back to his mind. Death, Fate, Misery, the exchange, all of it.
Isabella…….
He jumped out of bed and quickly searched the room. Isabella lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. He ran to her side and lifted her into his arms. Silent tears escaped his eyes as he cradled her head. She was freezing cold. There was no room for doubt in his mind. Isabella, his dear, sweet wife, was dead. A cry of agony escaped his lips as the magnitude of this revelation became clear.
“You tricked me!” he screamed at the empty room. Only silence answered him. He pulled his wife closer to him and buried his face in her hair.
“I’m so sorry, darling,” he wept. “So sorry.” After his sobs abated, he lifted her to the bed. He laid her so that she appeared to be sleeping, and kissed her forehead.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll be with you soon.” With one final longing glance on her, he left the bedroom and quickly walked to the parlor. A cabinet lay along the left wall and he silently crossed to it, opened the first drawer, and reached inside. When he pulled his hand out, it held a revolver. For a moment he just stared at it.
Amazing, how one little object can contain so many implications.
He shook himself and swiftly loaded the gun.
There’s no other way, his mind told him. There never was.
He quickly crossed to the windows and pulled the curtains. Then he closed the door and locked it.
I’m sorry, Bella. I failed you.
Then he put the gun to his forehead, and pulled the trigger.
Death was tickled. Never had a plan been so brilliantly executed. He rather liked this method. His latest victim had endured more suffering in one lifetime than any human should have to, and in the end had sought death on his own, instead of the other way around. Beautiful. It made his job so much easier when the victims came willingly, or better yet, eagerly.
“I have to hand it to you, Misery. That plan couldn’t have played out any better. I’d say we make a pretty good team.”
Misery just laughed.
“Don’t get too content,” he said. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
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"Silence is not a natural environment for stories. They need words. Without them they grow pale, sicken and die. And then they haunt you." -Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale
Among the Ashes
Last edited by VinrAlfakyn : 04-26-2007 at 04:38 PM.
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