Post by Bee on Dec 14, 2009 1:32:38 GMT -5
And here's the crack. Well, kind of crack. Written for Prompt 67 of my table: Misguided. The lyrics used here are "You'll Not Feel the Drowning" and "The Rake's Song" from the Decemberists. I don't claim to own them, or have written them. They were just wickedly appropriate.
___
The weeping comes in waves, nightmare-cries crashing up the stairs and into her room, and she marvels at the vocal cords of small children that they can smother every other sound in a tide of their wailing. She hasn't fallen asleep yet, and she's still deeply drunk after a happy night at the bar seducing a lovely Morganberry woman into keeping her entertained.
Normally she would let them cry until they wept themselves to sleep (a life lesson: you don't always get what you want), but tonight the noise was giving her a headache. Mnem crawled out of bed, fought vertigo for a moment, stumbled into the wall, and made her way to the nursery. She kept a grip on the wall. The architecture of this apartment was a damned mess, and one drunken misstep could end with her neck broken at the bottom of a surprise staircase Minh installed three hours ago because she was bored.
Finally she pushes open the right door. Helena, surprisingly, is the only one awake. Mnem is not surprised that she wails enough for three children. Eir's face is twisted in a malevolent smile of contentment, and Mnem can only imagine his dreams are filled with puppy-kicking; Iphis is clutching a doll and, Mnem assumes, dreaming about candy bracelets; Venka, perfect Venka, is snoring lightly.
"I had the dream about the mime,." Helena said, eyes wide and red and wet. "The mime killed us all. Mommy, kill the mime."
"There's no fucking mime," Mnem said, exasperated. She rubbed her eyes. Why were her eyes full of sand? "Go back to sleep."
"Can't. Mime. All I think about is the mime."
Mnem gripped the doorframe and sighed. "How about a little brandy? That'll put you right out."
Helena's eyes got wider. "Daddy says giving alcohol to children is evil."
"Your daddy's a lying piece of shit. Lemme get a...lemme get a..."
Helena twisted her blanket around in her little paws. "You should sing to me."
Mnem glared. "I don't sing."
A confused frown. "But I've heard you, you have a pretty--"
"No," she interrupted.
"Just one?" Helena asked, timidly now. "Won't bother you anymore, promise."
Mnem sincerely doubted that was a promise Helena could keep, but well, if the brat wanted music in exchange for letting Mnem enjoy the beginning stages of her hangover, she could indulge her. And then when Helena came wailing, Mnem would feel perfectly justified in punting her out the window.
She threw herself into the chair beside Helena's bed and tried to think of a song. You've a lovely voice, you've a lovely voice--she vaguely remembers people telling her that. Mostly she remembered how wonderful it had felt to have all the other little girls glaring enviously at her. Hardly her fault they sounded like toads, the horrid little bitches.
She hummed a soft tune to herself, and slowly remembered some of the lyrics. One of her favorites; yes, she remembered, and such a lovely song to put a child to sleep:
"Go to sleep now, little ugly
Go to sleep now, you little fool
Forty-winking in the belfry
You'll not feel the drowning
You'll not feel the drowning..."
Helena began to cry. Mnem said, "Forget you once had sweethearts, they've forgotten you..." but she just cried harder. What was wrong with that child?
"Oh, get off it, Helena. You wanted a song. Now lie there and listen to the goddessforsaken music."
"I'm not ugly," Helena whimpered, voice small.
"You're a little fool, certainly," Mnem said, distantly. She paused. A different song, then. She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. Ah ha! This one she hadn't liked as a child, but learned to love as an adult, and she sang with all the spirit only an intoxicated person can muster.
"What can one do when one is a widower
Shamefully saddled with three little pests?
All that I wanted was the freedom of a new life
So my burden I began to divest..."
Perhaps Helena would enjoy a pantomime. May as well make it a show, eh? Put the little girl right to sleep. She gestured to Iphis's sleeping form and sang, "Charlotte I buried after feeding her foxglove"--then to Helena herself--"Dawn was easy, she was drowned in the bath"--then, finally, to Eir--"Isaiah fought but was easily bested; burned his body for incurring my wrath..."
Funny how Helena wasn't weeping now. Mnem squinted at the bed. No Helena. Huh. She looked around. Still no Helena. She peered under the bed. Ah! There she was. Curled up in a little ball, quiet as a corpse. Mnem smiled. She must've fallen asleep. Under the bed was an awfully curious place for it, but who knows? Helena was an awfully curious girl.
Mnem gracelessly slumped over into Helena's bed. If she wasn't using it, Mnem certainly wasn't going to crawl all the way back to her own room. Besides, she had done a good motherly thing and gotten her daughter to sleep.
That was...
That was about ten thousand points towards the Mother of the Year title. Yes. Mnem was doing well.
"I," she told Helena's pillow blearily, before sleep carried her off, "am the best mother ever."
___
The weeping comes in waves, nightmare-cries crashing up the stairs and into her room, and she marvels at the vocal cords of small children that they can smother every other sound in a tide of their wailing. She hasn't fallen asleep yet, and she's still deeply drunk after a happy night at the bar seducing a lovely Morganberry woman into keeping her entertained.
Normally she would let them cry until they wept themselves to sleep (a life lesson: you don't always get what you want), but tonight the noise was giving her a headache. Mnem crawled out of bed, fought vertigo for a moment, stumbled into the wall, and made her way to the nursery. She kept a grip on the wall. The architecture of this apartment was a damned mess, and one drunken misstep could end with her neck broken at the bottom of a surprise staircase Minh installed three hours ago because she was bored.
Finally she pushes open the right door. Helena, surprisingly, is the only one awake. Mnem is not surprised that she wails enough for three children. Eir's face is twisted in a malevolent smile of contentment, and Mnem can only imagine his dreams are filled with puppy-kicking; Iphis is clutching a doll and, Mnem assumes, dreaming about candy bracelets; Venka, perfect Venka, is snoring lightly.
"I had the dream about the mime,." Helena said, eyes wide and red and wet. "The mime killed us all. Mommy, kill the mime."
"There's no fucking mime," Mnem said, exasperated. She rubbed her eyes. Why were her eyes full of sand? "Go back to sleep."
"Can't. Mime. All I think about is the mime."
Mnem gripped the doorframe and sighed. "How about a little brandy? That'll put you right out."
Helena's eyes got wider. "Daddy says giving alcohol to children is evil."
"Your daddy's a lying piece of shit. Lemme get a...lemme get a..."
Helena twisted her blanket around in her little paws. "You should sing to me."
Mnem glared. "I don't sing."
A confused frown. "But I've heard you, you have a pretty--"
"No," she interrupted.
"Just one?" Helena asked, timidly now. "Won't bother you anymore, promise."
Mnem sincerely doubted that was a promise Helena could keep, but well, if the brat wanted music in exchange for letting Mnem enjoy the beginning stages of her hangover, she could indulge her. And then when Helena came wailing, Mnem would feel perfectly justified in punting her out the window.
She threw herself into the chair beside Helena's bed and tried to think of a song. You've a lovely voice, you've a lovely voice--she vaguely remembers people telling her that. Mostly she remembered how wonderful it had felt to have all the other little girls glaring enviously at her. Hardly her fault they sounded like toads, the horrid little bitches.
She hummed a soft tune to herself, and slowly remembered some of the lyrics. One of her favorites; yes, she remembered, and such a lovely song to put a child to sleep:
"Go to sleep now, little ugly
Go to sleep now, you little fool
Forty-winking in the belfry
You'll not feel the drowning
You'll not feel the drowning..."
Helena began to cry. Mnem said, "Forget you once had sweethearts, they've forgotten you..." but she just cried harder. What was wrong with that child?
"Oh, get off it, Helena. You wanted a song. Now lie there and listen to the goddessforsaken music."
"I'm not ugly," Helena whimpered, voice small.
"You're a little fool, certainly," Mnem said, distantly. She paused. A different song, then. She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. Ah ha! This one she hadn't liked as a child, but learned to love as an adult, and she sang with all the spirit only an intoxicated person can muster.
"What can one do when one is a widower
Shamefully saddled with three little pests?
All that I wanted was the freedom of a new life
So my burden I began to divest..."
Perhaps Helena would enjoy a pantomime. May as well make it a show, eh? Put the little girl right to sleep. She gestured to Iphis's sleeping form and sang, "Charlotte I buried after feeding her foxglove"--then to Helena herself--"Dawn was easy, she was drowned in the bath"--then, finally, to Eir--"Isaiah fought but was easily bested; burned his body for incurring my wrath..."
Funny how Helena wasn't weeping now. Mnem squinted at the bed. No Helena. Huh. She looked around. Still no Helena. She peered under the bed. Ah! There she was. Curled up in a little ball, quiet as a corpse. Mnem smiled. She must've fallen asleep. Under the bed was an awfully curious place for it, but who knows? Helena was an awfully curious girl.
Mnem gracelessly slumped over into Helena's bed. If she wasn't using it, Mnem certainly wasn't going to crawl all the way back to her own room. Besides, she had done a good motherly thing and gotten her daughter to sleep.
That was...
That was about ten thousand points towards the Mother of the Year title. Yes. Mnem was doing well.
"I," she told Helena's pillow blearily, before sleep carried her off, "am the best mother ever."
