Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Chapter Three - Paris, the Birth

Don't forget to use the Book Chapter Directory on the right to read the Chapters in sequence. 
The following events are all true. Names and location have been changed.

Part 1: Love in a Harsh Landscape 
Chapter Three - Paris, the Birth

1873 Paris 

The floorboards creaked under the weight of Madame Fontaine as she fumbled anxiously with the white linen towels.
“She is ready! Hurry up Fontaine! It is time!”

She hurried up the narrow stairway and pushed the old wooden door open, the creaking of the hinge caused the lady on the bed to rise up and look at her, he large abdomen distorted under the quilted blanket. A fire roared in the grate and the room smelled putrid. Infected. Cursed. Abomination.
“Will the child come now?” Fontaine asked, worry lining her face.
“Yes, any minute now, and when she does we must get the infant away from that monster before she hurts it…Jesus. Mary. Joseph. Archangel Gabriel…” There was a stirring from the bed and the labouring mother stirred, a low guttural groan escaping her scarred throat, the groan turned into the chilling snarl of a wild animal - her body thrashed against the rough ropes holding her down.
“I won’t hurt my child! J’aime mon bébé! I love my baby!” another snarl and shriek, the red dark ringed eyes burned with malice and hatred for her captors.
“The priest will be here shortly. You will never touch this misfortunate child. You are evil, an abomination and you will never leave this room!” 

Again, the woman in the bed roared and wrestled with the ropes. Her movement moved the entire four poster bed. Causing the women surrounding it to pray even more fervently. One of the thick ropes started to fray and unravel, with every rough pull.
“Quickly mon dieu! She escapes! Elle échappe! Quickly! More rope!” The frantic activity of women in white dresses. Scared women scurrying wildly around, praying, tying ropes and avoiding the snapping snarling woman in the bed.
“Dieu nous délivre de ce mal! God deliver us from this evil!”

A cry of pain and the gush of birth.

The quiet sound of death... of breath leaving lungs. Eyes dulling. The mother passing on, as her lifeblood flooded from her…

No sound. A small seemingly lifeless form. 

Then, a child’s newborn cry.