The Investigator

I will be updating this, at the very least, 2-3 times a week.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Mymyk: Ava's Birth

The wet cloth touched her sweating brow once again. The angelic figure blurred as her eyes filled with tears from the pain that swept through her in waves that came closer and closer together now. Her breath became rhythmic and forced, almost shuddering. This, in turn, caused her body to tremble each time she gasped to take in a lungful of air before forcing it out powerfully again. Groans started in her throat and trailed over chapped lips that were licked over with an even drier tongue again and again. Mymyk closed her eyes trying her best to concentrate on the task at hand. The man who finally came to her side, her angel, picked the cloth up off of her forehead in order to refresh it with a cooler water. Wringing it neatly so it was damp and not drenched, he replaced the cloth upon her forehead as fingertips lingered after the release to continue brushing over her skin dotted with sweat.

“You came...” she managed between her contractions, eyes finally fluttering closed after she well enough decided he was tangible and not a dream. He was here with her.

“I wouldn't miss this for anything in the world,” came the tender retort, a hint of a coy smile playing at the side of his lips. The straying fingers finally came to stroke over her cheek before tracing her parted lips and then away completely to rest upon her shoulder instead. “Would you be more comfortable on the bed, dear one?”

The only response to this question was a weak smile and a pat on the hand. She opened her eyes once again in order to look where she lay upon the floor before the hearth. Certainly, it wasn't the most comfortable of positions and the heat wasn't helping the warmth she felt throughout her body already. A steady glance managed to capture the rest of her picturesque cottage, a weak smile given to how dainty and well loved it looked in the soft glow of the moon that scattered its beams haphazardly across the floor. A sweet cool breeze tried to penetrate the stagnation in the room, though, shifting the curtains tenderly like a lover before dancing across her flesh with a kiss of the juniper and lavender that grew around the house. Another contraction began to tremble in her belly, threatening to cause her to scream so she grit her teeth and instead a whimper came sprawling over her lips as she squeezed the man's hand tightly.

“She will have your eyes,” she managed to push through clenched teeth and squeezed eyes.

“And your most beautiful complexion,” he returned in kind, brushing back ebony tresses from her forehead where they were plastered underneath the cool cloth which was beginning to sop with sweat. It wouldn't be long now, though, until their child came to join them in the world. His wings seemed over excited about the idea and so they shifted with anticipation before settling down and latching about his shoulders once more.

Bearing down, she screamed this time. “She's coming,” Mymyk managed in a grunt while trying to catch her breath. It was those words that had him release her shoulder and move into the proper position. Legs up, knees bent, spreading the legs and there, right there between her legs he could see the crown of the child that would soon be coming out. A miracle so beautiful that a smile came to dance upon his lips for a few moments, awestruck by what he saw.

It was then that the game began, all games began. At that precise moment, the newest pawn was about to be placed on the board. This was a well planned, a check mate, the perfect roll of the dice. He held all the trumps right now as he stood there in such a vulnerable position, the smile slowly forming into a grin before churning into his normal Cheshire smile.

“Is she beautiful?” came a forced few words as it became obvious that she was watching this transformation upon his lips. She will be, he thought to himself as he merely continued to smile. Another wave spasmed through her causing her to push again and the crown became a little more apparent. Slowly he knelt down in order to place his hands upon the head of the child, offering a small turn here and there in order to help the child be free of their warm womb. Another push caused the head to come out in a rush. He began to work the mucous out of the nose and mouth while Mymyk prepared for one last push to evacuate what was still left. She has to hear it cry. She has to hear the little miracle's voice or all would be for naught.

The silence seemed to shudder in anticipation when, suddenly, the sound of a small child's terrified and cold scream came to wail through the cottage. The small squirming likeness of Mymyk was finally lifted and placed upon her chest where arms were wrapped about the child and suddenly tears flowed freely as the cries of the mother and child mingled. He, himself, set to work on moving the afterbirth away from them both and finding a proper place to deposit it where the woodland creatures would not invade before returning to see mother feeding child using her natural gift of a breast. It was a most serene and beautiful picture, really, and he couldn't help but stand for a moment in order to watch it.

“Little Ava. My little Ava. Our little girl.” Mymyk could only speak in small and simple sentences, cooing over the suckling little child that hiccuped and whimpered now and then during her feeding.

“Ava. What a beautiful name,” he said in a voice so soft that it threatened to become a whisper. Approaching the bed, he held out his hands, his arms, readying himself for the little girl and Mymyk, seeing a father who wanted to hold his little one, complied. And she watched as he wrapped the child in a warm blanket and nuzzled his nose to hers. Then she continued to watch as he then walked to the cottage door, opened it, and disappeared into the night with her child. After that, all she could do was stare at the open door, first in quizzical wonder, but as the minutes passed and became hours, the wonder became concern and the concern became out right terror. She tried to move but the pain of child bearing came over her and she, instead, lay back down as tears of a new kind began to streak down her face.

“Ava. My little Ava.” The wailing that filled the cottage at that point did not belong to a child.