love

Image by @arrelaine13

This is for gmuxx art prompt writing contest

He sat alone, rubbing two wooden sticks to start a fire. Just like the neanderthals in his history book.His tiny hands with their feeble grip would never be able to light one. Somewhere deep in his mind this truth was known to him. He kept it there. Lying to himself. Soon his hands ached, his fingers weakened. The pain hit him, gnawing into his will.
“Casey, honey. Come sit with mama in the blanket. You will grow tired, my angel.”

The sound of the twigs rubbing slowed, the cold chilly wind howled and little Casey wanted to heed his mother's call. He wanted to leave behind the cursed sticks. He wanted to leave behind the pain. He wanted to shout, cry and sleep holding his mother.

Yet he did none of those. He held back his tears, he whispered his shout and hardened his voice.
“I...I am not tired mommy, it...it will happen soon.” His cramping pain turned into strength. To go on. To fight for her. He rubbed the twigs faster than before. His eyes watered but his hands did not let go. He did not, he would never but his body betrayed him. The twigs simply fell to the floor and his hands stiff. His tears fell on the sticks and all hope for a fire was drenched.

“Oh my love. Come here Casey.”

He rose, tears streaming, his hands tired, paining and his will shattered. He lay next to her and in her arms he wept.

“Oh Casey,” she kissed his forehead, her voice weak as was her body. Both ravaged by disease. “I do not need the fire honey. I have you.”

Somewhere between basking in her love and weeping for his failure. He fell asleep.

Outside the storm raged, wolves howled and the rain hit the ground harder than ever before. He woke in a jerk, pushed out of it. Not something physical, but a voice, a sense, a feeling telling him to. He looked at his mother, sweat on her forehead, her breath weak, and her skin burning. He waited for a moment, then shook her and when she did not answer him, he shook her harder, crying, calling out for his mother.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy.” His voice growing fainter, squeakier, “No, please mommy, Wake up. P.. please?” She moved, slightly, enough for him to notice, enough for the empty pit to vanish and be replaced by hope, by love, by happiness.

“I am...am ok love. Sleep.”

He left the bed, the cold hitting his warm body all at once, sending shivers down his spine. His heart raced and his mind searched for an answer. He knew what he had to do. It gave him direction, a place to pour all his emotions towards. He wiped his tears, his hands shaking. Collected the things to take with him when leaving the house. The list made by his mother. He kept them in front of him. Among them was a brightly coloured raincoat with pretty flowers drawn across it. The one, he had hated when she bought it for him. The other boys would tease him for it. Yet today he wanted it. Today he wore it and held on to its sleeves like he was holding her hands.

He placed his hand over her head, kissed it and left.

The wind was furious and so was the rain. The torch light flickered and barely shone the path ahead. Every tree looked like a monster to him. Behind every bush was a ghost he swore he could see.

The rain hit the ground mixing with the mud. Forming a path slipperier than ice. The thunderstorm shook the world around him. He walked slowly, all the tears cried away but all the fear amplified. With each step he wanted to go back to her, maybe she would be fine now, a miracle of God. But each step he took was fuelled by her. Her voice. Her touch. Her love. Any step back would mean leaving her to her fate. Leaving her alone. The one person in the world who would burn it down for him.

Near the foot of the hill, the ground gave in. Little Casey skidded on his back. His hand caught in a thorny bush stopped him and he shouted in pain. A shout which the world would never hear, a shout only for him. He cried as he freed his hand, each tug causing more pain. Then he lay alone in the mud, the flowery raincoat protecting him from the dirt.

He remembered his mother saying, “Casey, don’t just walk down the hill, always test the ground at each step. Walk in zig zag, honey.”

He’d never listened but now in the mud he realized her worth.. She always protected him. Always thought of him first. Yet he would fight her when being told what to do. The tears streamed again.

The fire in him rose again and he picked himself up. He had to make it.

The torch protected under his sleeve was now drenched. Like a fallen angel with no magic. He walked to where he thought was right. To where his heart said to walk.

He prayed in his helplessness for his mother. He begged for her to be fine. Just as he finished moving his frozen lips, the path lit up, an eerie blue light showing him the house he was searching for. As quickly as it came, the light faded as the loudest crack of thunder tore apart the sky. A sudden crushing vibration passing through his body. Then silence. He fell to his knees, crying, shouting. Then he ran towards the house. His legs splashing in the mud, his body tired from the assault and yet a power surged through him.

He pounded at the door until someone opened it. He shouted, “Please save mama, doctor. She is burning.” He shouted it over and over again, inconsolable, his body shaking, his words stammering. He did not listen, he kept shouting, until his body gave up. He eyes closed and the world was shut out.

A warm hand touched his cheek, running through his hair. Voices murmured around him. An abundance of joy bouncing around him like a ball from one corner to another. Until the ball was pricked by panic. He opened his eyes, screaming for his mother. Wept in her arms as he saw her.
“I’m fine, Casey. Oh my angel. I love you.”
She kissed his head and thanked the doctor sitting beside her.

“You will be fine, just take your medicines. That is one special boy you have.”

“Thank you doctor, thank you so much. Thank y-”

“You do not have to thank me. Take care of yourself. See me after taking the medicines.”

With that he left.

Casey lay next to his mother. His mind stretched with thoughts. His heart going through all the emotions. His body recovering from the shock. He felt strangely less fearful, from the thunder of the heavens, from the monsters in his house, from the ghosts all around. He felt a sense of pride a sense of security. Yet he felt scared, scared at the fragility of life.

Many thanks to @tinypaleokitchen and @nobyeni for making it better and spending their valuable time on it.