Thursday, November 17, 2011

"Sunlight"-NANOWRIMO (Chapter 11: Generation)


Chapter 11: Generation



                He’d been sent home.



                He was very ill, and the shot had taken him out pretty well. It was going to be a while, a long while, before things could be something remotely normal.



                But there was always Veda.



---

                She was waiting for him; she hadn’t been in the field, outside of the country or otherwise, in a long time. She was horrified when she’d heard of his fate, the terrible shape he was in; he needed to be home.



                The nightmares were getting worse; they were always worse without him.



                She’d sold at least five pieces in Soren’s absence. She hated the ghouls that invaded her sleep and waking hours; he was the only one who made them leave, even for a little while.



---

                The apartment was small, but it would do while they sorted out marriage. It was fine to be here, in this small space, that was filled with mostly her things, mostly her canvas and easel and paints and brushes. It was alright, with the camera sitting on the kitchen table, and the public transportation.

                They would get along fine.



---

                He was always sick. And he routinely forgot things, or acted strangely out of character for himself. But most of the time, he was alright. He was there.

                He knew what to do when she was upset. And she got upset, at least every few days. She would either use her creativity to furiously express her deepest emotions, or tear up the house, or lie in bed. He knew how to respond to each action.

---

                She understood nightmare, and sickness. She understood when he spent too much time in one place, or trying to recall something, or anything less or more. She knew how to handle his situations when hers were not taking over her small life.

               

---

                Neither was prepared for what would become of that night.

---

                They moved, eight months in. Her emotions had been a whirlwind and she had stayed home more than she had left. He had done all that he could to comfort her, but it was not nearly enough. No female friend could help her either.

                The outbursts and locking within had something to do with her physical condition, but little. This was how she would act normally; just increased to a much larger scale.

                Just distressed by the sharing of her body with another being within.

---

                Damir. It meant something to do with peace, in a language they hadn’t spoken in a while. Fitting for their last name, though their names did not seem to reflect anything which truly signified the Paxes.

---

                Sleep was impossible during the night. Neither new parent slept. All they did was work and care for the child. They were around twenty-nine, both of them. Not quite old. Not old at all, really. This was optimum time for children, yes, indeed, they agreed it was.

---

                They moved next when he was five.

---

                A quick snapshot of every home they arrived at, the first moment they did so. Veda promised to make a separate album for just all of them, before and after their time together, before and after Damir’s birth.

---

                “What would I do without you?”

                Their voices were soft with sorrow and honesty.

---

                Soren was extremely concerned about her behavior; he had always been. But he would never push her to seek something she did not want. Not even when she would sleep for days, or wake in endless irritability. Not even when she would not sleep at all.

                He never asked her why.

---

                Veda was well-aware of where his illness stemmed. Chemicals, from something out there. It was the fate of many in what was once his position. They still moved for the work they had; they could not very well leave. But she was weary of this life, for various reasons. If they could just get out of the country again… perhaps there would be some amount of contentment. For all of them.

                Her little one was growing. He had such a passion for sport. He was beautiful, just like his father. A sweet, sweet child. But so quiet. She hoped he hadn’t learned it from them.



---



                Quiet, quiet, quiet. They wanted it quiet because the world was simply too loud. Because they’d found themselves in unfamiliar shells, in pain and terror and confusion, and they couldn’t ask their questions, and would they ever get answers? Would there ever be any answers?

                What world was this?


No comments: