Fantasy 1918 (@Mia Moulop & @KurtH6355)

[Lord Bradorian]

The year is 1918.

The Spanish flu has raged across the United Kingdom, leaving havoc in it's wake. Just a week ago, your father had came down with a horrible fever. The next day he was vomiting, but since he had ate nothing it was more of a liquid; however, frothy. The day after that, these horrendous black spots began to appear on his cheeks, the skin tightening and becoming brittle. On his final day, father was broken; he was turning blue as he asphyxiated due to what he described to your mother as "something in his lungs." You were too young to understand anything but that your father is dying and there was nothing you could do about it.

Yesterday, father died. You have awoke in the middle of the night in your bedroom, both wide-eyed and shaken. You were having nightmares about your father. Mother, who was in the next room, always said to go see her if you had nightmares.

 

[SandraDeelightful]

It had been hard for Rosalind Elliott to fall asleep that night. She had lost her father the previous day and he had been buried earlier in the day, due to how that horrid Spanish Flu had disfigured and infected him. Rosalind had caught a glimpse of her father's body, and it had made her shocked. She had been very close to her father and it broke her heart to see him so hastily placed in the ground and buried. She had cried out all of her tears, and it exhausted her. She thought it would be so easy to fall asleep that night, but she had been wrong.

It felt like hours before she finally succumbed to sleep, and even then, she didn't stay asleep for long. She bolted upwards in her bed, her eyes were wide. She was in a cold sweat, and she could feel herself shaking. She remembered her mother's words. To go and she her if she had any nightmares. At hearing that, Rosalind had thought that it was stupid. Now, though, she slipped her pink dressing gown on over her white nightgown and went to her mother's room, the room next to her's. Rosalind didn't bother to knock, she just opened the door.

"Mama," Rosalind said as she shook her mother. She could still see the disfigured form of her father that had appeared to her in her dream. "Mama, wake up. I had a nightmare. About Papa."

 

[Lord Bradorian]

The images of your father’s corpse being dragged out of the house by men in masks and thrown into a cart full of other mangled carcasses that once were your neighbors flash in your head. The site of the mass grave he was put into, the horror in the eyes of the family members at the conglomerated funeral. London’s cemeteries were filled to the brim.


The night hadn’t been without it’s commotion. Throughout it before you had finally grasped the elusive slumber you had searched for that night, there had been shouts, cries, the sounds of a scuffle outside of your house. At one point, you heard three loud bangs off in the distance, who knows what it was?


As you stir from your hellish dream, you see out of the corner of your eye the downtrodden streets of the city once bustling with activity at night. Trash littered the streets, buildings cracked at their foundations, and a golden brown malnourished horse slept in the middle of it all. Just from a glance out your window, you could tell that the thing was on it’s last legs - both because of the fact that it’s ribs were jutting out of it’s stomach, and because two of it’s four legs were horribly broken out of their original places.


You get up and travel a short distance to your mother’s side, walking forward and preparing to shake her awake; however, when you walk into the room you discover that it isn’t necessary. In the illumination of a candle, your mother had a book open - the holy bible. She sat on the edge of her bed in a slouched, defeated posture. Her hair, instead of the curly blonde bun it was normally in, was let down and ratty. Her eyes were puffy and tears had stained her cheeks. She was dressed in all black, the tradition of a widow.


“Rosalind...What are you doing up so late?” she asks in a meek voice, not even looking up at you but being fully aware that it had been you whom had entered her room. She seemed embarrassed by your discovery of her in the state that she was in, and immediately begins to sniffle and wipe at her eyes in a feeble attempt to seem like she was okay, despite standing in the face of a tragedy that had shaken her entire life to the core. When you explain your nightmare, she sighs and pats on the bed beside her. "Come here, love. Tell me about what's haunting your sleep."

 

[SandraDeelightful]

"Oh, Mama," said Rosalind as she went to sit next to her mother. She wrapped her arms around her mother and she buried her face in her mother's shoulders. Seeing her father in her dreams had definitely shaken her. Rosalind had waited a moment before speaking to her mother. She wanted to keep herself calm as she explained her dream to her mother. She felt a few more tears fall down her cheeks, and her breathing was shaky. After a few more moments, however, Rosalind felt her breathing steady and she began to feel her self more calm. She moved her face from her mother's shoulder and rested her head there. She took a few more deep breaths before continuing.

"I kept seeing Papa," said Rosalind. A few more tears fell from her eyes as she thought of what she saw in her head. It was horrific. "I saw his body. I saw him being taken from the house. I saw the grave he was being taken to. It was awful, Mama. He didn't look at all like himself."

She was afraid that the body of her father, the way that he was taken, how horrible he looked, would be the only thing that she would remember about her father. She was afraid that she would never remember the happy and healthy picture of her father that she had known since long before this whole horrible illness had come into her life. She would miss her father dearly and she was afraid that he wouldn't remember the way that he looked only the way that he looked in the last few moments that she had saw him. It made her terribly sad to think about.

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Your mother looks at the wall still as you speak, not making eye contact with you. Her stare was a thousand yards, her demeanor hopeless and depressed. As you come and cuddle up to her, shivering on her shoulder, she wraps an arm comfortingly around your small figure, placing her own head on top of your’s. Unbeknownst to you, a single tear rolls down Ethel’s face, drying and staining on her skin. Her lips curls in an attempt to stifle a gasp of pain from you; she barely succeeds, and you are able to hear just how shattered she was.


You take a few moments to control your breathing, and our mom seems like she does the same. Her heart rate slows down, and she remains steady. Her eyes begin to water again and her face grows even more drooped and hurt when you tell her the specifics of your nightmare. She hesitates, thinking of anything possible that she could say at the current moment; she had never prepared for her husband and your father’s sudden and macabre demise.


“I suppose it was destined, chosen by God,” your mother said quietly, before forcing a smile onto her face and looking over to you. “He’s in a better place now, you know that. Up in the clouds with God and his angels,” she said in a sweet voice, stroking your beautiful blonde hair carefully and softly. “No need to fret, Rose.”


After her religious analysis of the situation, she smiles again and leans down onto your shoulder this time, embracing you and rubbing your back softly, hoping to lull you into a place where you could head back into your bedroom and get back to sleep. She knew deep down the nature of the coming days, and knew that they would require a lot of sleep to get through.

 

[SandraDeelightful]

Rosalind knew how much her mother loved her father. The two had always been in love and it was very clear. And he was an excellent father, whom Rosalind would miss very much. It broke her heart to see her mother this way. A few more tears escaped her eyes as she sat next to her mother. Seeing what her father's death had done to her mother made her curl up close to her mother, hoping to offer her mother a little bit of comfort. She had never seen her mother this way before. She didn't exactly know what to do with her mother like this.

Rosalind nodded against her mother's shoulder as her mother spoke. She knew that her father was in a better place and that he was out of his misery. She could not question what God had in store for the future and He had wanted her father sooner than Rosalind would have liked.

"Well," said Rosalind. She gave her mother's hand a gentle squeeze. She sort of felt guilty for leaving her mother in such a state. She had never seen her mother like this. She didn't want to leave her like this.. "I ought to be getting back to bed. Do you need anything else, Mama?"

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Throughout the next few minutes of you sitting with your mother after her religious theory on the passing of your father and her husband, she remained to seem much more uplifted than she was the moments before. Perhaps it was your company, perhaps she had cheered herself up with the religious connotation she had just put his death into, or perhaps it was just a facade inspired by a willingness to emotionally protect you. But other way, her shivering stopped, and so did her tears.


When you ask her about heading back to bed, she smiles and nods, but before she gets the chance to say anything, there is a trio of knocks on the front door of the home. Both you and your mother’s head whip around to look at the front door, which you have a clear sightline of from your mother’s bedroom, the door of which was open at this time. Ethel stands up almost immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up in response to the fearful way that she looks at the door; a guest at this hour was not the same thing that it used to be.


“Rosalind, go to your room and close the door,” your mother instructs you briefly, before walking forward out of her bedroom and toward the door, slowly. You watched as her hand shook as she placed it onto the doorknob; “Who is it?” your mother questions from within the abode.


“A doctor,” a masculine voice replies from the outdoors. Your mother pauses, before clearing her throat and looking back at you as you supposedly make your way to the door. She opens the front door and steps aside to allow the man in.


You can’t quite see him yet, it is dark outside. But you hear him. “May I come in?” he asks in a polite tone, deciding to not walk through the open doorway.


“Of course,” your mother says, and you hear the man step into your home.

 

[SandraDeelightful]

Rosalind smiled a little bit as she she felt her mother stop shaking, glad that she had calmed down, at least a little bit. Rosalind was worried for her mother, she had never seen her mother in a state like this before, and if she was being honest, it frightened her. She knew how terrible the loss had been, it was her father after all. But she just hoped that with time, her mother would eventually overcome her grief and sorrow. Rosalind knew it would take quite some time before her mother was even close to alright, and she knew her mother would probably never be back to her old self, but Rosalind did want her mother to be better.

Rosalind stood as her mother told her she could go back to her room. She was ready to leave when there was a knock on the door. Her mother had rushed past her, leaving Rosalind alone in the room. Rosalind debating whether or not she should go to her room. Instead of doing as her mother said, Rosalind ducked behind the doorway. She peered out, trying to be as subtle as possible in the hopes of seeing who was calling on her mother so late in the night. She couldn't think of anyone who would be coming over, and she was rather nervous to find out who was on the other side of the door.

She watched as the doctor entered. There was a confused look on her face. She didn't know what a doctor was doing at her house at this time at night.