ODE TO JOY: Part 1-2: Infant Sorrow

2.     Infant Sorrow

“LET ME die!” Bri screeched.

The pain racking her body was that of a thousand hells, pushing its way through her like a demon.

“Mrs. Hookwell, try to breathe,” came a voice.

“Don’t tell me to BREATHE!”

The midwife could be heard huffing as she dipped a rag into a bucket of cold water. It was slapped onto Bri’s head as her screams began to build again. She felt as though she were slowly being split in two by some monster that clawed out of her from the inside.

“Where is Orion!” she demanded. “Where is he?”

“We don’t want to bring him in here!”

“Yes I do! Where is my husband goddamn it! Where’s my muffin?”

Amidst the pain that lasted an eternity, Orion’s deep voice spoke to Bri, guiding her through it. The mid-wife did little but irritate her in her already sweating, writhing state. The blankets were soaked in her fluids and the stench of blood hung in the air.

A small panic budded in her heart and began to open wider.

Delirium set to its work in making the woman a fool. At forty-four, would she survive from this gift she had tried to give? Would the gift survive?

She felt her husband’s hand in her own, never moving or pulling from her sharp grip. Her nails dug into his flesh. She loosened the hold and she could hear him shift beside her, a hand on her head.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

“Is it over?”

“Yes. You don’t remember? We have a little girl.”

“Where are they taking it to, Orion?”

“Nowhere. She is in the room. They are cleaning her.”

“If I give her…” she spoke these words without knowing their meaning “If I give her to strangers how do I know they will love her?”

“What? Brigid, what are you talking about?” Orion asked.

“Her chances are better with someone else than with me…” she slurred.

“Brigid…”

“My lord,” the nursemaid’s voice arrived. “She’s delirious. Let us leave her to sleep.”

Bri was half aware that what she spoke made no sense. But the other half was lying on the bed of some cargo ship, surrounded by sailors and a few dark-skinned women. The smell of her own sweat and blood overwhelmed her. She buried her face into the pillow and passed off into another nightmare.

The dark-skinned women had helped her to birth that child. When they showed her the infant girl she believed its crying was grief. Grief in its first moments. She grieved being dropped into this world. The Indians could not make Bri nurse the baby for she feared it. She was only a girl of fourteen and this infant knew it. It resented her for this. It always would…

coming soon: Ode to Joy- a serial novel

Ode to Joy

The story of four Victorians who struggle with mental illnesses yet to be diagnosed. Unlike today there are no proper treatments for their ailments and the problems they pose are pinned to their personality flaws and life. But like today, there is little understanding for what ails them and the love and support of family and friends prove to be their salvation.

Meet Lord Orion Hookwell, the eccentric earl who has spent his life in and out of asylums. Adjusting to the idea of being a father and a secret “sodomite” he must find ways of coping with his cyclical mania and depression. He thinks he may have found his quirky, supportive wife Bri’s long lost child but reuniting the women proves to be more difficult than he at first estimates. Brigid, meanwhile, deals with badly timed flashbacks of her youth in British-owned India. When she cannot shake these flashbacks she begins to wonder if she is as mad as her husband. Their family friends Charles and Lucy Arteberry have baggage of their own. Captain Charles Arteberry, proud alcoholic and libertine is deteriorating before his family and friends’ eyes and Lucy must piece him back together by re-exploring his past and his grief for their shared beloved Fonso. While Charles is slowly dismissed as an immoral and cruel man, Lucy stays by his side. But Lucy has demons of her own. Every winter she is taken with a deep melancholy. But will anyone believe that their rock, the cheery and talented Lucy, could feel such lows. Together they are working toward a huge production to fund a women’s shelter in London. Will Bri and her long lost daughter be reunited? Will Charles dismiss the secret human traffic his ships now support? Will Orion, for the first time in his life, check himself into an asylum for the good of his family and friends?

This will be a serial novel. Meaning while it will be quality it is also written while being published. A character guide and other useful information will be handy on this blog for your viewing pleasure and use. 

Everything is (c) 2012 Luz Briar. No stealing.

poetry: Nonus- "I used to be a bad man"

I used to be a bad man
Until they took my mind away
And now I am not accountable
This is what the doctors say.
One marvel they held from me
In my own time
Was that the heart may still beat
Without the mind.
And mine is surely lost
While the heart is on display
My chest gaping open,
All the rest in decay
Except for this evil thing,
destroying all in its way.

I have never been my master
I have never known liberty
From the chains of this monster
Inside of me
I have never opened my heart
To good and fruitful results
Only to blood
Pure as fetid mud.
And the irony, it is
I never knew of this
I never knew I had heart
Until I lost my mind....

And as it turns out
You can kill the mind quick,
And leave the heart beating.
Who would have guessed this?
And it becomes my fate
To wonder beneath
The dark waters I drowned
In the limbo where I bleed.
Every face laughs
There is the man with no mind.
I used to be a bad man
When I had the choice to find
The pathway between the two
And choose where good lies
But now I am a fool
Choice-less and blind.

I have never been my master
I have never known liberty
From the chains of this monster
Inside of me
I have never opened my heart
To good and fruitful results
Only to blood
Pure as black mud.
And the irony, it is
I never knew of this
I never knew I had heart
Until I lost my mind....

(c) 2012 Luz Briar.

poem: Frailty & Flowers

The smoke is cleared
The faces bright
They are smeared
With make-up, right
Left
Down and upsides.
I see your hearts
and your minds
I shot the dart!
The fault is mine.
Felt
it deep in your lives.
I say I'm sorry.
Hypocrites.
But you tossed me
Far aside
like a ragdoll, like a shoe, like any toy.
And you should say
"I didn't lie."
Start a new day,
thought I'd die.
Like your ragdolls, like your shoes, like your old toys.

Woe is me; I'm tossed aside
Poor fragile flower.
But frailty thy name is You
I gave You your power.

short story: Are You Still Hurting? (7/7)end

7

No matter what corner or room the singer tucked herself into the buzzing and chatter of her family and Mina’s relatives follow her.

In the stained mirror she saw the brown roots of her hair spreading and when she stretched her mouth open to see the hole in her gums it bled black.

Seven rooms and twenty-nine corners later she screamed. She sat up and hit the walls around her with her fists until her shoes and feet joined in. Small holes began to dent the wall.

"Stop it! What are you doing!" Mina’s voice arrested the musician.

"I can't find any fucking privacy in this house!" she raised her voice. "My family is here and nobody will answer questions. In case you haven't noticed it's a pigsty in here."

"You are completely overreacting!" Mina grabbed the smaller woman's wrist. "You don't know what happiness is. You wouldn't know it if it hit you in the face!"

"Apparently not! Get the fuck away from me or answer my questions!"

"What?" the larger woman screamed. "What are your questions and why do you feel you can ruin my family’s vacation!"

"Where's my brother!"

"He's right over that!"

The singer followed Mina’s finger into the hallway where a gentle hissing noise led her to another corner down another twisting hall.

Sid's long face was hidden beneath a gas mask. In his hand a hose sprayed its fumes.

"Sid!"

The sister ran to her brother and blocked his way. Whether his eyes met hers was a mystery. Behind the mask he could conceal his actions. "Sid, is your cell phone working?"

The brother did not acknowledge his sister but pushed past her with the hose. She pinched her nose and watched him pass.

"Sid!"

When there was still no answer she looked to Mina.

"Does he have fucking wax in his ears!"

"The mask might make it hard for him to hear."

"Doesn't he see me?"

Mina shrugged.

One more corner and the young man pulled his gas mask off, shaking his head free, his hair falling in all directions.

The singer ran to his side and grabbed his arm.

"Sid. I need to borrow your cell phone. Mine is at Mina’s house. Please."

The brother did not acknowledge his sister. He passed her and dragged his equipment down the hall.

Through the labyrinth of the old house the musician tripped down the stairs to the cellar. Her left hand clutched the egg-shaped pills in their jar. This time when she reached for them they were present.

They rattled with each step she took. Her bloodshot eyes found the final step and with tears rolling she sat. She emptied all of the candy-covered pills onto the wood. Ignoring the splinters she ate them one by one, swallowing dry. Each burned her throat but the action was mechanical.

When the final pill slipped down a raw throat the singer was already coughing.

She fell over on the floor to roll in dirt. One cough followed by another until it was the sound of a death gurgle.

Teeth littered the floor as the woman lost them in her coughing fit, gums bleeding and eyes raining.

Her stomach pushed up the poison and her throat was swollen.

A small insect crawled from her mouth and spread its wings, buzzing away. It was followed by another, and another. The singer could feel each creature leave her body but her paralysis prevented action. The swarm crawled from her body and overtook the cellar in as little as ten minutes.

It would be less than an hour before the bees moved upstairs, impervious to Sid's spraying. They took over the halls of the mansion. Their stings were enough to exterminate Mina and Sid's family.
The mansion would become the world's largest beehive.

short story: Are You Still Hurting (6/7)

6


When she could not find her brother the musician sat on the steps of the basement and rested her face in her hands. She began to weep into the protective shield when voices disturbed her. Her family and Mina’s stomped down the stairs, moving her forcefully out of the way. She pasted herself against the wall, tears still in her eyes.
At last she saw her brother, eyes low. He threw open a closet as the basement was crowded and a large bucket was pulled from the darkness. He dragged it across the floor so that a scraping made the musician cover her ears. Chills crawled up her spine.
The bucket was placed to the left of a chair. The uncle had a sack tossed over his back. It flattened on the floor when he dropped it and the family pulled out apples, oranges and potatoes.
"Why is she crying?" the musician's little cousin asked.
"Ignore her," Mina replied.
The singer sank against the wall, plopped on the floor, her heart sinking to her feet. Where it had been there was an aching feeling of abandonment. They all looked at her but none of them saw her tears.

The fruits and vegetables were thrown into the bucket that stood beside a chair. She did not remember them filling it with water and wondered if it was the metallic liquid spewed by the shower where privacy was not allowed.

The families began to climb the chair and bob for fruits, faces in the water and teeth working to bite those floating plants. The musician collected herself from her heap on the ground. She took the steps out of the basement one by one but at the corner of her eye she saw what she wished she had not.
The apple her aunt bit into swarmed with white worms that tunneled their way in and out of the rotted red fruit. They devoured the meat of the plant as the aunt's teeth connected with their meal. This time the singer said nothing but watched. It took a moment for her to clear her throat and find the voice that had been shamed silent.

"Don't!"

The aunt was successful and the apple pulled from the water. When it was handed to the uncle the maggots were nowhere to be seen.

The musician could only stare for a few minutes, not understanding where the maggots had gone but supposing it had been a different fruit.

"Fuck you all," she spoke up.

Up the stairs and down the hallway she sought out the room Mina had shown her. The one with no fan and no lock on the door.

But every room led into another and every hall twisted into more. Hallways and small chambers. Scurrying and bumping into walls. The singer's irritation mounted into rage. She reached into her pocket for her dose of medicine but could not find it.

short story: Are You Still Hurting? (5/7)

5

The singer can no longer cleanse herself in the metallic water with the silhouettes of these strangers on the other side.

She tore the curtain out the way, marching to the clothes she abandoned on the floor. She donned the clothes without a care for what the strangers see and kicked the rickety door open.

Down the hallway the musician rushed. When she collided with her aunt she nearly screamed.

"The bathroom!"

"What is it, sweetheart!"

"Children and a guy in the bathroom! They won't leave to let me shower. Where's Mina?"

Her uncle appeared behind the corner of the hall laughing, along with one of Mina’s relatives.

"They don't speak English. They probably didn't understand you."

"Well, can someone tell them to get out so I can shower?"

Her aunt, uncle and Mina’s relative looked to one another and nodded. They took the singer's arm and led her into a dining room.

A wasp at the center of the table lay on its back, struggling to move. Before the musician could point it out her uncle cleared his throat.

"We've all decided it's time to have a talk with you."

The singer's green eyes glared at this man. But he was not alone, for her aunt and Mina’s relative sat down to do the same.

"This is another example of the kind of thing you do..." her aunt spoke.

"What?"

"The children in the bathroom. They didn't do anything wrong and yet--"

"Wait. Wait!" The musician cut the air with her hands. "All I'm asking for is for privacy."

"Let us finish, dear."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"See what she does?" the uncle spoke to Emma's relative. "She drama-mongers."

"What?" she demanded.

"I think you're overreacting," the aunt spoke.

"There's metallic water in the bathroom. The door doesn't lock. I didn't complain. All I'm asking is for those kids and that guy to leave the bathroom while I fuckin' shower!"

"Maybe you should take your medicine," the aunt soothed.

"Wait. I'm not overreacting. This makes no sense."

"Would you like to talk to your brother about it? He's the one who told us you'd be coming here."

How would her brother Sid have known she would be at Mina’s summer house. How and when had he gotten here?

"Sid is here? Where is he?"

The brother and sister had their differences but the musician refused to believe that Sid would have suggested such an intervention. Usually he was tacit and left his sister alone, saying nothing of what he thought. She simply did not believe her aunt and uncle.

She searched the house in every room and corner and found only more of Mina’s family and her own.

 One of her aunts was smoking and as they made small talk about her brother the musician kept shaking her head, eyes watering at the sound of buzzing.

"Do you hear that?"

Her aunt shook her head in the negative. But she did not ask what it was her niece heard.

The musician followed the noise and found herself with ear pressed to the wall, listening for a hive of bees. The wallpaper was thin and could peel with ease to reveal a nest. But she left it be and continued to seek out her brother.