The Annex

The smell of antiseptic prickled the back of her throat as she stepped through the sliding doors and into the lobby of the sick-man's world. She stood there aimlessly for the next few minutes; watching the steady flow of surgeons, listening to the rolling of gurneys, thinking of the boy upstairs, sick and helpless, getting ready for death.

Her mind was brought back from its wonderings as an old couple scolded her for standing in the doorway. She apologized and, sighing, turned left into the gift shop. After purchasing a small bouquet of daffodils she trudged solemnly to room 149. It felt as if she were on autopilot, her feet did the directing while her mind played ping pong with thoughts of hope and dread.

Callum was asleep when she knocked lightly on the white of his open door. His mother beckoned her in before giving her an unconvincing smile and leaving for coffee. Setting the daffodils down on the windowsill, the girl sat gently on the edge of Callum's bed and admired the flowers surrounding it. She loved the look on his face every time he woke up to a room full of bright colours. There was a series of light coughing from the head of the bed and she looked up in fright.

"Caitlyn?" Callum's voice was soft and husky. She smiled,

"Had a good rest?" Callum nodded and ran a hand over his bald head. Caitlyn smiled again as his eyes bulged at the number of flowers surrounding his bed.

"I know I've woken up to them a thousand times but...wow," he scanned the room and pointed at the daffodils on the windowsill, "Are those new?" Caitlyn nodded and smoothed the blankets down around his hospital gowned chest.

"So how are you feeling?"

"Terrible," he laughed, "but nothing a kiss couldnt cure," Caitlyn smirked and leaned forward to peck his lips.

"Better?"

"Not particularly but I think felt something" Caitlyn leaned in again and this time didnt pull away. Somebody cleared their throat and the two of them parted immediately.

"Visiting hours are over," said the nurse, "I'm uh, sorry to interrupt,"

"You should be," muttered Callum under his breath as Caitlyn hugged him goodbye.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she said softly.

"Looking forward to it, love you."

"I love you too."

As soon as she stepped out of his room, Caitlyn's lips began to tremble. The waterworks began and she cupped a hand to her mouth in attempt to muffle the sound. Ignoring the numerous stares, Caitlyn ran out of the hospital and out onto the street. She navigated her way to a park where she sat down and let the rain fall. Images of Callum's weak figure, his bald head; his courageous smile invaded her thoughts and her body shook with each gasping breath. A few joggers past by, giving her curious stares and she stood and wandered off the path, wanting nothing more than to get lost in the labyrinth of nature.

"Pretty, pretty girl."

At first Caitlyn thought it was the unusual cry of a bird for the voice was low but chirp-like and crisp.

"Pretty, pretty girl."

She scanned the ground for a stick before holding it aloft and searching the trees for another being.

"Hello?" she called, sounding more confident than she felt, "Hello?"

"Hello pretty girl," Caitlyn swiveled around only to be met by a pair of shiny black orbs. She screamed and fell backwards into the shrub.

"K-keep away!" she said, tears welling up in her eyes, "Please, please don't hurt me" The man cocked his head to the side, examining her trembling figure inquisitively.

"I wont hurt you. I just want to know why such a pretty, pretty girl is crying," Caitlyn whimpered and backed away slowly.

At first glance, the man looked to be in his mid-forties, his hair was white and ruffled in the wind like soft baby bird down. Though when Caitlyn looked closer, she realized that his handsome features were very much belonging to someone no older than 25.

"Please, just leave me alone," She whispered.
The man looked at her in thought. His eyebrows lifted in sorrow.

"But maybe I can help cure this lachrymose of yours," he said gently. Caitlyn laughed sadly.

"Someone I love very much is sick. How can anyone possibly help me?" The man cocked his head to the side, his gaze hard and unblinking. He reminded her a lot of the chickens at her uncle's farm.

"He will die?" He said, jutting his head forward like a turkey.

"Possibly," She whispered as the familiar heat began rising to her cheeks.

"But you do not know for sure,” His English was careful and broken, yet the way be pronouced each word was delicate and clear. Caitlyn clenched her jaw in fury; the last thing she needed was for her hopes to be lifted and crushed again.

"I fail to see how this is any of your business!"

The man smiled and held out a bony hand,

"Oh but dear, this is very, very much my business," Caitlyn stared at him, charmed by his voice, eyes wide.

"What?" she whispered, taking his hand. He pulled her up to her feet and looked seriously into her eyes,

"You wish to know the fate of your love?" he said quietly. Caitlyn nodded slowly,
"Show him to me."

"What?"

"Show him to me." She cocked a brow,

"V-visiting hours are over I can't…" He took her by the shoulders and she grasped her stick with white-knuckled grip.

"Show him to me, with this," he tapped her forehead with the index finger of his right hand. She looked at him disbelievingly. This man was a complete psycho.

"Show him to me!" he yelled. She whimpered and thought of Callum lying in bed with leukemia. If he was here, he'd protect her from this maniac. Why did she stray off the path?

A few minutes passed; the man let go of her shoulders and gently stroked her hair behind her ears.

"I'm sorry," He said, "He will die."

Free from his bony grasp Caitlyn backed away, only to be met by the broad trunk of a tree.

"Shut up!” She screeched, slumping against the trunk like a wounded animal. “Why can't you just leave me alone?" She sobbed.

"He will die," He said softly,

"How the fuck do you know? You've never even seen him, he could have a runny nose for all you know!" she spat, tears dissolving the dried salt already present on her cheeks.

"Cancer," he said, turning away, "Go to him, he won't live beyond this Friday."

Caitlyn's jaw dropped, goose bumps speckled her arms and the hairs on her neck stood erect.

"W-who the fuck do you think you are, you sick son of a bitch?" she screamed, clenching her jaw. The man seemed unfazed by her language, almost as if he didn't understand.

"I am Caladrius,"

"What?"

"Caladrius, the bird of sickness," Caitlyn laughed; a jeering, nervous laugh.

"You poor guy, you really are ill arent you? Which hospital are you from? I can get my mum to drive you," the man looked at her questioningly and her face softened in pity, she sighed.

"Caladrius is nothing more than a medieval myth, a story told to Sunday school children," she said gently.

For the first time, the man looked insulted. Without another word he turned away and squatted on the ground. Caitlyn frowned at him curiously as the man curled around, tucking his face into his knees; making himself smaller and smaller until he was the size of a 6 year old. She squinted, blinked, rubbed her eyes and squinted again- were those feathers sprouting like poppies all over his back?

Caitlyn's head pulsed in pain; the stress was finally getting to her. She was going insane. That was the only logical explanation. Otherwise, how could a bird be standing in the place a fully grown man sat seconds earlier?

"Wake up! wake up! wake up!" she whispered to herself, closing and opening her eyes; willing the beautiful, white, heron-like bird to disappear. The bird tottered over to her and sat in her lap. She pushed it off and shuddered.

"Callum will die, I am so sorry."

Surprisingly Caitlyn didn't scream, she didnt cry for help; she didnt hit it with her stick. Part of her was expecting this; part of her wanted this.

"Cure him," she said, stroking the bird's soft white down.

"I can't cure the dying"

"Please I'll do anything," she pleaded desperately,

"I can't cure the dying, without half dying myself," he said woefully.

"Anything," she whispered, her voice filled with compassion.

"Anything?"

"Anything," Caitlyn nodded, licking a salty tear off her lip. The bird nodded, his eyes smiling gently.

"My kind is dying out. Pretty, pretty girl," The bird whispered.

"I need an heir."

A chilly breeze wandered in from the open stain glass window, licking out the flame on Sister Annalisa's match. She sighed and tottered over to a wall where a long metal rod hung. Standing on her toes, the nun hooked the window with the rod and pushed it closed, prodding the catch to make it lock. She shivered as the icy intruder brushed at her skin, polka dotting it with raindrops. As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of the weather outside. Autumn was usually her favourite month, all the beautiful warm colours in deep contrast with the cold temperature; she loved it. She scanned the pavement for a few solitary leaves and her eyes landed on a black lump, sprawled on the sidewalk. Squinting through her glasses Sister Annalisa gasped in shock. The lump was a person, cold and motionless.

Hugging her coat around her, the nun rushed outside to the person's aid. With a little difficulty Annalisa turned the person onto it’s back. For the second time that night the nun gasped; the person was a girl, looking no older than 17 years old. Her eyes wandered to her swollen stomach and back up to her distraught face in utmost shock.

The girl moaned and fluttered her eyes open.

"It's alright dear," said Sister Annalisa kindly, "You're safe now, can you get up?" The girl nodded and slowly got to her feet.

They were half way to the cathedral's magnificent oak doors when the girl doubled over and groaned. The nun hurriedly escorted her into the building and called for the other nuns.

"What's your name dear?"

"Caitlyn," the girl croaked, scrunching her face in pain.

"Should I call for an ambulance?" said Sister Isabelle,

"I don't think she has time" replied Annalisa, "Call Marguerite." Caitlyn screamed and Sister Isabelle quickened her pace to a run.

Caitlyn looked down at her baby girl adoringly. The nuns had gone to get her some clothes and baby and mother were alone in the big cathedral. Caitlyn tickled the baby's soft brown cheeks while she slept, listening to the gentle intake of breath, feeling the light tapping of her heart as it beat against her warm skin. The baby's eyes flashed open and she stirred uncomfortably. Caitlyn pulled the blankets more tightly around her, thinking she was cold but the child began to squirm in even more discomfort. Curiously she removed the covers, turning the child onto her back. Caitlyn screamed. The tips of soft white feathers had begun sprouting through her baby's angel skin and were now growing rapidly into wings. Caitlyn tugged gently at them and the baby wailed in pain. Footsteps were heard echoing from the steps and Caitlyn hurriedly pulled the blanket back around her child.

"Thought of a name yet?" said Sister Annalisa, completely oblivious to what was growing under the covers. Caitlyn thought of the bird man and almost dropped her child in terror. She couldnt remember his name, but he looked a lot like a-

"Heron," she replied, voice shaking. Sister Annalisa smiled and nodded,

"That's a pretty name; shall I take her while you change?"

Caitlyn hesitated before pecking the baby's head and handing her to the nun. Sister Annalisa took the child into her sleeping quarters while her mother got dressed. Suddenly the baby's cheeks grew hot and her face scrunched up in an ear-piercing wail. The nun tutted sympathetically and removed the blankets. Her eyes fell on the small wings, twitching about on the child's back and her heart scrambled into her mouth. Shocked out of her wits, she wrapped the baby back in her blanket and ran back into the cathedral, her voice reverberating off the stone walls as she called for Caitlyn. She stopped, breathing heavily, and scanned the room. The mother was no where to be found.