A Small Sacrifice
The End
The woman squeezed her daughter’s hand one last time before letting it fall, lifeless, to the sofa. With God, the woman told herself, she’s with Him now. A sad smile spread across her wrinkled face as she took in her daughter’s emaciated body.
The girl looked serene, almost lifelike, as she lay on the floral sofa. Her orange hair fell in delicate whips around her face, her bluish lips parted in deadly perfection. Her thin cheeks were still rosy. Warm, thought the woman as she touched the girl’s face with the back of her hand, sleeping.
God had called and her little girl had answered. The woman sighed, pulling the wool baby blanket over he daughter’s face. It wasn’t her place to question His will. This was a small sacrifice.
The grandfather clock chimed eight o’clock, the harsh reverberations shaking a sheet of dust of the top of the antique timepiece. The particles of dust fell all around, like thin gray snow. The woman coughed, unwillingly reminded of the doctors who had swarmed the small room for the past few weeks. “Medicine!” they had insisted, “needles, injections, antibodies, hospitals.” The woman had shaken her head every time, resting a hand on her daughter’s flaming forehead. “No,” she had said to each and every one, “just God.”
They had left, one by one, filing out the doorway, their hands up in the air. The woman and her daughter had been left alone in the room, time and time again, their only company the relentless coughing and the harsh tick of the old grandfather clock. “This is madness– This is murder,” the last doctor had insisted, “she’ll die and it will be on your conscience.”
“Mother,” her daughter’s voice had been thin and raspy, “please.” The woman had simply shaken her head as the doctor stormed out with his bulging black bag.
“God will heal you. He will take you into his open arms. We are at the mercy of God.”
The girl had fallen into a fitful sleep, after which it was only a matter of time…
The woman started as the doorbell rang, cutting through the heavily blinded windows, the closed doors. She stood, slowly, securing the blanket around her daughter’s body. Another young girl stood in the doorway. The woman recognized her as one of her daughter’s friends. The girl shivered against the frosty December air, pulling her pea coat tighter around her torso. She held a carefully wrapped present in her gloved hands. “Merry Christmas,” was all she said.
The woman smiled sadly, feeling tears form in her hardened eyes. She shouldn’t be sad, she told herself, her daughter was with Him now…
“Is Laura here? I have a Christmas present for her. I heard she was sick and– Mrs. Relinger? Are you alright?”
The woman could feel hot tears falling down her face and into the folds of her bathrobe. Her late daughter’s friend stood there, alarmed. The woman steadied herself and wiped her eyes.
“Yes, honey, I’m fine.”
The woman hugged the girl then, taking her warm body into her arms, savoring the quick heart beats, the soft flesh, the sparkling eyes. She kissed the girl’s cheek before releasing her back into the cold. The girl started off down the dark path and back towards her mother’s buzzing car.
“God be with you,” the woman called after her, as the car sped off down the black road. The quiet house welcomed her back inside, the heavy silence pressing down. She let herself sink into a kitchen chair.
Yes, she mused as she drifted off into exhausted sleep, I suppose He is with us all.
The girl looked serene, almost lifelike, as she lay on the floral sofa. Her orange hair fell in delicate whips around her face, her bluish lips parted in deadly perfection. Her thin cheeks were still rosy. Warm, thought the woman as she touched the girl’s face with the back of her hand, sleeping.
God had called and her little girl had answered. The woman sighed, pulling the wool baby blanket over he daughter’s face. It wasn’t her place to question His will. This was a small sacrifice.
The grandfather clock chimed eight o’clock, the harsh reverberations shaking a sheet of dust of the top of the antique timepiece. The particles of dust fell all around, like thin gray snow. The woman coughed, unwillingly reminded of the doctors who had swarmed the small room for the past few weeks. “Medicine!” they had insisted, “needles, injections, antibodies, hospitals.” The woman had shaken her head every time, resting a hand on her daughter’s flaming forehead. “No,” she had said to each and every one, “just God.”
They had left, one by one, filing out the doorway, their hands up in the air. The woman and her daughter had been left alone in the room, time and time again, their only company the relentless coughing and the harsh tick of the old grandfather clock. “This is madness– This is murder,” the last doctor had insisted, “she’ll die and it will be on your conscience.”
“Mother,” her daughter’s voice had been thin and raspy, “please.” The woman had simply shaken her head as the doctor stormed out with his bulging black bag.
“God will heal you. He will take you into his open arms. We are at the mercy of God.”
The girl had fallen into a fitful sleep, after which it was only a matter of time…
The woman started as the doorbell rang, cutting through the heavily blinded windows, the closed doors. She stood, slowly, securing the blanket around her daughter’s body. Another young girl stood in the doorway. The woman recognized her as one of her daughter’s friends. The girl shivered against the frosty December air, pulling her pea coat tighter around her torso. She held a carefully wrapped present in her gloved hands. “Merry Christmas,” was all she said.
The woman smiled sadly, feeling tears form in her hardened eyes. She shouldn’t be sad, she told herself, her daughter was with Him now…
“Is Laura here? I have a Christmas present for her. I heard she was sick and– Mrs. Relinger? Are you alright?”
The woman could feel hot tears falling down her face and into the folds of her bathrobe. Her late daughter’s friend stood there, alarmed. The woman steadied herself and wiped her eyes.
“Yes, honey, I’m fine.”
The woman hugged the girl then, taking her warm body into her arms, savoring the quick heart beats, the soft flesh, the sparkling eyes. She kissed the girl’s cheek before releasing her back into the cold. The girl started off down the dark path and back towards her mother’s buzzing car.
“God be with you,” the woman called after her, as the car sped off down the black road. The quiet house welcomed her back inside, the heavy silence pressing down. She let herself sink into a kitchen chair.
Yes, she mused as she drifted off into exhausted sleep, I suppose He is with us all.