the waiting room

darkestlord

The Waiting Room (part one)

As the policeman stopped talking Frankie stared at the “I love Daddy” mug as it slipped from he’s finger.
The memory of the last time he saw them seized his mind.
Only a few hours ago Frankie was beaten on a computer game by his six year old son, Simon danced in front of his sulking father while his mother sniggered in the doorway.

Frankie remembered how he dived at his son pulling him to the ground; Simon shook as his fathers’ long fingers tickled his belly.
Frankie closed his eyes desperately trying to hear his son’s contagious laugh but all he heard was the policeman’s nervous cough.
His wife and son had drove to her mothers’ house, but before Laurie left, her eyes begged for forgiveness or just some sort of acknowledgment that Frankie knew she existed.

Frankie brushed passed her with a grunt and told her “to drive carefully”.
He didn’t know what woke him from his dream, the sound of the broken mug or the gale that rattled the windows.
He obeyed the policeman when he was told to get a coat; Frankie closed the door and stood outside his daughter’s room.
The policeman told him how Laurie’s car had skidded off the road, his voice sounded optimistic as he spoke about her injuries.

“Don’t worry she’ll be fine.”
But as the policeman spoke about Simon sadness swept through him, although he told Frankie “not to worry,” there was something in his eyes that did not reassure him.
Frankie’s legs buckled as he touched the cold door to his daughters’ room, the dam in his mind that kept his daughters memory from him fractured and that fateful day overwhelmed him.

Laurie warned him not to get a pond but as always he ignored her, they never heard their daughter’s cries as the five year old drowned.
Frankie remembered the empty blue eyes looking through him as he tried desperately to resuscitate her.
When the wooden box took Libby away, for a second he saw his wife’s resentful face as the words “This is your fault” seemed to gush from her soul.

Frankie pulled himself from that nightmare into his new one whispering.
“You’ve taken one of my kids, please not him.”
The hollow knock on the door pulled him up and he followed the policeman to his car.
When he arrived at the hospital he was quickly ushered into a dreary office, a tired looking doctor sat waiting for Frankie.

A compassionate smile broke out as he spoke.
“Your wife is stable, a few broken ribs and concussion but she’ll be fine.”
“What about Simon.”
“Simon suffered major head injuries; we managed to stop the bleeding but the damage was so severe. You’re son has made no response to any treatment.”

Frankie sat motionless as the doctor rested his hand on his arm.
"I’m so sorry but I expect you’re son to die in the next few hours, his major organs are starting to shut down.”
Frankie stood up walking towards the door ordering the doctor to “bring me to him”.
The doctor led Frankie into a dimly lit room; the moon’s glow flickered through the blinds.

Machines flashed and sounded alarms at regular intervals, while the smell of detergent choked the room.
A nurse sat in the corner reading a book, occasionally casting an eye to a fragile looking figure in the bed.
Frankie knelt beside his son, wires and tubes connected him to the noisy machines.

The doctor and nurse retreated to an opposite office; he felt their pitiful glares through the glass but ignored them.
Simon looked as he did the previous night when Frankie watched as his son slept, he waited for his sons’ eyes to open and his smile to embrace him, but nothing came.
Frankie blinked furiously forcing back the tears as he laid his head into his sons’ chest.
“Please I will do anything, just don’t take my boy.”

His head shot up as a door opened and a middle aged man walked towards them, the man wore a striped shirt that unsuccessfully covered a pot belly and his polished shoes echoed around the room.
He stopped beside Simon, his podgy hand resting on Simon’s head.
“It won’t be long now son.” The man said.
“Are you a doctor?” Frankie enquired.

“No,” the man said avoiding Frankie’s gaze.
“Who are you?”
“I am death and I’m here for your son.”

Frankie rose from his chair thundering towards the unshaven man shouting “You joke when my son is dying.”

Frankie managed to make two steps before the man raised his hand sending him flying backwards.
The man’s eye’s turned black as his bitter voice spoke.

“Turn around Frankie.”

Frankie turned his head towards the office, the doctor and nurse was frozen as if paused by a remote control.
Death remained seated his hands pawing at the chair, he looked at the frightened man on the floor as his bemused lips spoke.

“Now I have your attention you may sit.”

maninamousesuit

hmmm. I dont know. I dont "get" it. I dont understand about deaths appearance. Is it to make the taking of his son easier by being in human form? Another problem i have is i dont feel the despair of the dad. Maybe give him a bit of monologue and forget the punctuation, just pour it out.
I mean whats going on in the story? What is the subtext? I dont mean to be critical and i think you have a winner here but tell me something.!

darkestlord

Thanks maninamousesuit for your oponion, its part of a short story i wrote.
I did'nt have time to put the full story.

maninamousesuit

Sorry my friend. I hope i did not offend. I had not noticed this was part of a longer work. Ignore my comments they have little merit if the work is a fragment.