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Three Hours

Three Hours

By Daynage

Born at nine, dead by noon. Those three hours of life, as I recall were so very fulfilling. My mother was kidnapped several months before my birth, forcing her to eat less than what she needed to feed both her, and myself. This caused my first, and smallest of the problems with my birth.
By the time I was born, my mother had all but lost her mind. When she birthed me by the name of Claudia Sara Gamen, Her location was the middle of a desert. The story behind her finding herself there, does not factor into this tale, however, being born in a location without any water, and in the scorching heat caused many problems. She gave me life at 8:59 AM. By 9:00 my mother was holding my small, delicate head in her hands. I remember opening my eyes to the scorching sun right . The first thing I ever saw was my mother looking lovingly down at me. I looked blankly back at her. I had no idea what I was expected to do, so I started to fall asleep. My mother must've desperately not wanted me to close my eyes, because her heart started beating rapidly, He began to bounce me up and down, preventing me from wanting to do anything but quietly look up at her. After several moments of simply us looking between each other, I began to grow thirsty. I began to cry. I crudely pulled my vocal cords, to alert my parent as to my need for water, or any such substance. She looked saddened by my need, and pressed my head to hers so our ears were touching. She lovingly held me for several moments, before holding me at arms length.
She pressed my head into her bosom, and laid down, so I was to her side. She closed her eyes, and began to drift into a subtle sleep. I could tell she was still alive because I could hear her heart beat, softly, faintly. I stopped crying at this point, and just enjoyed my mother's closeness. I could feel the warmth of the sand beneath me, and the warmth of the sun as it pressed its extreme heat upon me, and my mother. I began to become drowsy again. Once I closed my eyes, I couldn't seem to fall asleep. So I just laid there, with my uneven, jagged breathing. I wasn't long for this world, but I wasn't looking to go without a fight. I drifted into sleep.
I woke to my mother crying over me. I wasn't sure why she was, I wasn't dead. So I just kept lying there, waiting for something to happen. I was waiting to greet the dawn without looking back. I continued to feel my mother's rasping breathing. Her hurried heartbeat. Her quivering limbs. She was weeping. I began to cry for her, while she was crying for me. I kicked my right foot, and it came into contact with my mother's knee. She recoiled, but stopped crying, so I stopped. I brought my grimy hand up to my face, in hopes to wipe some of the sand off. I only succeeded in wiping more sand into my eyes, so I left it alone.
I was baking. The weather was brutal, and we were going into the heat of the day. The temperature rose to well above ninety degrees. It was miserable, and I could feel myself growing weak. I looked over to my mother, as my vision began to blur. She had fallen asleep again, only this time her heartbeat, and her breathing were irregular, and choppy. I knew she was not long for this world, and neither was I. I rolled over and looked away from her. I didn't want to see her die. I rolled into a man's shoe. It was black leather, and was a very nice shoe. I rolled even more, so that I was looking at his body and face. He was wearing a nice three piece suit, with a hood. Beneath the hood was a white, bone face. I lacked the ability to talk, but I understood why he was here, and I willed my essence to meet his thoughts. He met my own efforts with his. I didn't quite formulate my question, but he understood what I wanted. My life for hers. I wished he could be sated with my soul, and leave my mother's. He agreed on the condition that I go willingly, without struggle. I agreed. She had some other life to lead. I didn't.
He bent down, and pressed his hand to my chest. My vision began to grow dark around the edges, and my head swam. Death was a gentle caring force, rather than rough, evil. The last thing I saw was my mother sleeping somewhat peacefully. The last thing I felt was her heartbeat shudder, then return to normal. I heard her moan as she felt the soul of her only born child leave this world. My last action was to place my left hand on her neck. With that I felt all of her accomplishments, her joys and sorrows. I felt who my mother was. I was satisfied that I was giving my life for hers. And with that I let my body go. My soul and body separated. One second of searing pain in my chest, before it all went black. I closed my eyes, then opened the up again. I was looking down at my mother weeping over my body. I reached out to comfort her, but my hand passed through her shoulder.
It's been many years since I died, but I will always remember when my mother buried my body, with me as the only witness.

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About The Author
Daynage
Daynage
About This Story
Audience:
PG
Posted:
27 Apr, 2013
Type:
Sad
Words:
958
Favorites:
1
Views:
2,221

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