Friday, December 6, 2013

Storytime #3

It was dark, clammy, and cold in the all too clean room where her daughter lay on the cold slab of a table, her final resting place. Her mother stifled a cry, covering her mouth with her hand. This couldn't be happening to her baby girl. It couldn't be. Her baby girl's skin was pale, too pale, her lips were almost blue. The woman standing over her gave her a sad nod of recognition. She covered her baby girl with a blue sheet signifying death. She couldn't just stand there and sob. She rushed at her baby girl, just wanting to hold her one last time.

"You know we can't let you do that, ma'am. It's protocol. It's what she signed up for." A man said emerging from a corner.

The mother stood there screaming, bawling in agony, knowing every word he spoke is true.

"I'm told she even went out with that flame in her eye." The man said to the mother, "The same one you have in yours, no pun intended."

The mother reached out her arms, ready to claw out the man's eyes like a primitive beast. He wagged his finger in her face, mocking her with every move he made, "Mummy, you're the one who signed your precious little baby girl up for this. You can't blame me now."

"I can blame you for whatever the hell I want!" the mother screamed.

Her eyes grew wide as the man reached for his side. She knew what was coming next. She closed her eyes. It had finally caught up with her.

She didn't even let out a scream as she went down. Her final gaze at her daughter's stone cold figure above her.

"I love you." She said with her final weak breaths.

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