Scars challenge...
Jul. 7th, 2004 10:26 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
tyk.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionSome scars you don’t know you have…
Momma?
Momma, where are you?
The young boy wiped the sleep from his eyes. He had been startled awake from his nap by a loud, unexpected noise. Had his dad been home, he would have thought it a gunshot. His mother, however, was not fond of guns; it was unlikely that it was a shot he heard.
His mother was obviously not in the cabin, so she must be outside.
Momma?
Why was his mother lying on the ground? It looked like…, it looked like she had fallen. He hastened over to her to help her up.
Momma?
When he shook her, he could tell. The blood, the stillness. She was as dead as the game his dad and grandfather shot during a hunt.
Momma?
His dad had drilled him in many different survival situations. None of them had to do with his mother being - dead. Call into the post. He needed to call into the post. No reason to cry, there was work to be done.
Sergeant McClelland.
No sir, I’m not playing with the radio. No sir, it isn’t a toy.
Sir, Sergeant McClelland, my momma. I need to find my dad to tell him. My momma. She’s dead. Someone shot her. Someone shot my momma.
No sir. There was a man here earlier. He had lunch with us. I don’t think, well, I don’t think momma liked him much. But he was a friend of my dad’s and one always keeps an extra place ready. Hospitality is not a gift but a necessity. The man, he’s gone. He left after lunch.
Sir. My momma’s dead. There’s blood and it will draw the carnivores. I need to cover her so the animals won’t get her. My father would want me to make sure no animals got my momma, Sir.
Yes, sir. I’ll wait right here. A helicopter? Yes, sir, I’ll stay inside until the helicopter comes. My momma will be safe? Yes, sir, I can follow orders. Inside until the helicopter comes.
Sir, Sergeant McClelland, can you please send my father home. I would, I would thank you kindly. I think, I think my father. I think I’m going to need my father, sir.
Yes, sir, he is an excellent RCMP officer. He taught me about duty, sir, and I know it might be hard for him to come home. Do you think, do you think it will be ok for him to come and take care of me?
He might not want to come home. If momma isn’t here, he might not want to come home.
I. I wish that, Sergeant McClelland, sir, do you think I could go sit with my momma until I hear the helicopter? She-
No sir, I won’t. I’ll follow orders. Stay inside, of course.
Yes, sir. Thank you for your assistance. I will be inside the cabin until someone from the helicopter comes. Good-bye.
The boy tried to do his chores, like set the table for dinner. He tried to work on his geography homework that was due tomorrow to his m- that was due tomorrow. He tried to read his newest book about polar animals. But he was not able to concentrate. He kept going to the window to make sure no animals had come to disturb his momma yet.
He wouldn’t cry. His father wouldn’t like it if he cried. He should be doing something – idle hands were the devil’s workshop according to grandmother. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew it was important to be doing something that mattered. His momma often would roll her eyes and smile at him when grandmother said that about the idle hands.
He would really like to talk with Sergeant McClelland again. Talking with the Sergeant helped him feel brave; it helped him remember what his duty was. Being alone made him want to go outside to his momma. Being alone made him long for his dad.
Eventually he fell asleep. He did not wake again until the next day. He awoke confused; how had he gotten into his cot? The cabin was full of people. His dad, grandmother, grandfather, and Sergeant McClelland were all sitting at the kitchen table. His father had never looked thus that he could remember – tired, unshaven, the uniform half-off and completely wrinkled. His grandparents, never exuberant, seemed unusually dour.
Where was his momma? Something happened yesterday. He knew that. Something bad had happened, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Where was momma?
Momma?
Momma, where are you?
The young boy wiped the sleep from his eyes. He had been startled awake from his nap by a loud, unexpected noise. Had his dad been home, he would have thought it a gunshot. His mother, however, was not fond of guns; it was unlikely that it was a shot he heard.
His mother was obviously not in the cabin, so she must be outside.
Momma?
Why was his mother lying on the ground? It looked like…, it looked like she had fallen. He hastened over to her to help her up.
Momma?
When he shook her, he could tell. The blood, the stillness. She was as dead as the game his dad and grandfather shot during a hunt.
Momma?
His dad had drilled him in many different survival situations. None of them had to do with his mother being - dead. Call into the post. He needed to call into the post. No reason to cry, there was work to be done.
Sergeant McClelland.
No sir, I’m not playing with the radio. No sir, it isn’t a toy.
Sir, Sergeant McClelland, my momma. I need to find my dad to tell him. My momma. She’s dead. Someone shot her. Someone shot my momma.
No sir. There was a man here earlier. He had lunch with us. I don’t think, well, I don’t think momma liked him much. But he was a friend of my dad’s and one always keeps an extra place ready. Hospitality is not a gift but a necessity. The man, he’s gone. He left after lunch.
Sir. My momma’s dead. There’s blood and it will draw the carnivores. I need to cover her so the animals won’t get her. My father would want me to make sure no animals got my momma, Sir.
Yes, sir. I’ll wait right here. A helicopter? Yes, sir, I’ll stay inside until the helicopter comes. My momma will be safe? Yes, sir, I can follow orders. Inside until the helicopter comes.
Sir, Sergeant McClelland, can you please send my father home. I would, I would thank you kindly. I think, I think my father. I think I’m going to need my father, sir.
Yes, sir, he is an excellent RCMP officer. He taught me about duty, sir, and I know it might be hard for him to come home. Do you think, do you think it will be ok for him to come and take care of me?
He might not want to come home. If momma isn’t here, he might not want to come home.
I. I wish that, Sergeant McClelland, sir, do you think I could go sit with my momma until I hear the helicopter? She-
No sir, I won’t. I’ll follow orders. Stay inside, of course.
Yes, sir. Thank you for your assistance. I will be inside the cabin until someone from the helicopter comes. Good-bye.
The boy tried to do his chores, like set the table for dinner. He tried to work on his geography homework that was due tomorrow to his m- that was due tomorrow. He tried to read his newest book about polar animals. But he was not able to concentrate. He kept going to the window to make sure no animals had come to disturb his momma yet.
He wouldn’t cry. His father wouldn’t like it if he cried. He should be doing something – idle hands were the devil’s workshop according to grandmother. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew it was important to be doing something that mattered. His momma often would roll her eyes and smile at him when grandmother said that about the idle hands.
He would really like to talk with Sergeant McClelland again. Talking with the Sergeant helped him feel brave; it helped him remember what his duty was. Being alone made him want to go outside to his momma. Being alone made him long for his dad.
Eventually he fell asleep. He did not wake again until the next day. He awoke confused; how had he gotten into his cot? The cabin was full of people. His dad, grandmother, grandfather, and Sergeant McClelland were all sitting at the kitchen table. His father had never looked thus that he could remember – tired, unshaven, the uniform half-off and completely wrinkled. His grandparents, never exuberant, seemed unusually dour.
Where was his momma? Something happened yesterday. He knew that. Something bad had happened, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Where was momma?
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no subject
Date: 2004-07-07 09:48 pm (UTC):::sniff:::
The beginnings of Fraser duty-bound life. How sad.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-07 11:01 pm (UTC)He might not want to come home. If momma isn’t here, he might not want to come home.
I. I wish that, Sergeant McClelland, sir, do you think I could go sit with my momma until I hear the helicopter? She-
No sir, I won’t. I’ll follow orders. Stay inside, of course.
That's heartbreaking! ::sniff::... Poor Ben!
no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 04:08 pm (UTC)And the idea that Bob, gone as much as he was with Caroline alive, might not want to be there at all with her gone. a double loss for Ben.
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Date: 2004-07-08 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 04:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 07:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 07:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 08:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 04:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 08:20 pm (UTC)i kind of have some sympathy for Bob. I can certainly see him with the philosophy "dead is dead" -- no need to talk about it, no need to explore it, no need to consider how it might affect one. Surely Benton would be better off not knowing or remembering rather than reliving it as Bob perhaps did for those weeks Ben talks about in H&Hs. Well, if you live in BobFraserLand, anyway.
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Date: 2004-07-14 12:38 pm (UTC)This was so sad and real but wonderfully done. Wow, just - wow.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-17 04:42 am (UTC)I knew on some sub-concious level, that Fraser had to be alone with his mother when it happened, but I never let myself think about it too much, as though his life started after the funeral, after he had been turned over to his grandparents.
It's a huge piece of the puzzle you've given us.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-19 03:02 am (UTC)