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 |   Blog created for the WDC 21st Birthday Blog Bash plus many sundry stories. |
| Vigil “They’re coming to get you, Barbara.” Johnny smiled reassuringly at the girl lying in the bed. “I know it’s been a while but I was so sure you were getting better.” His tone altered to one of regret. “And you were for a while. Don’t you remember the day you sat up and I opened the curtains so that you could be in the sunshine for a while? But then you insisted it hurt your eyes and I had to close them again. It might have done you good, you know.” He went quiet then, reflecting on how his sister had struggled for so long against the illness that devoured her. At first it had been an honour to serve her, to provide her with food and comfort, to help her towards recovery. Their parents had made him promise to look after her before they died and he tried so hard to live up to their expectations. In the long days and months that followed, it had become hard for him, however. Time spent in the darkened house with nothing to look forward to but the constant care of his ailing sister, sitting by her bedside for hours and trying so hard to make her smile with his stories, it had been so hard on him. And for a time, it had seemed that she would get better. There were days when she would respond with a few words or weak gestures with her pale and delicate hands. Hope had been a strong incentive in those days, carrying him through the emptiness of his constant drudgery. But it had failed him in the end. The day came when he had to face the truth that he needed help. He phoned old Dr Bartholomew and he had agreed that the local hospital should take over the care of his sister. They promised to be there within the next few hours. Johnny trudged down the stairs to wait in the gloom of the front room. He never opened the curtains these days, so used to the darkness and unremitting boredom was he. Noticing that it was time for his sister’s medicines, he went through to the kitchen, collected the pills from the array of little bottles on the pantry shelf, and poured a glass of water. These went on to the little metal tray his parents had given him for the task, and then he made his way slowly up the stairs with them. His sister was asleep when he entered her bedroom so he left the tray on her night stand and went back down to the front room. He could give her the pills when the people arrived and they all went upstairs to her room. She would have to wake then. Johnny slouched down into an easy chair and wondered what life would be like without having to see to his sister’s every need. It was hard to imagine the things that would become open to him. Having no real knowledge of the outside world, he had no plans for a life without Barbara. He fell asleep in the chair and was awoken by a knocking at the front door. For a moment he was puzzled by this unexpected sound and then he remembered his phone call. He went through to the door. Waiting for him were three orderlies dressed in white, one of them holding a rolled-up stretcher. Johnny welcomed them in and then led the way up the stairs. In the bedroom, two stood by the door while one went to inspect the girl in the bed. “How long has she been like this?” he asked. Johnny thought for a moment. “Oh, it must be months now. She was getting better but then had a relapse. I couldn’t look after her anymore.” The man nodded his head. “A word outside, please.” They stepped out into the passage and the man held Johnny by the arm as he spoke to him. “You’ll have to come with me, I’m afraid.” “But what about my sister? And why do I have to come too? I told her you were coming and she’s fine with it.” The man gave him a strange look. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Your sister’s been dead for months. She’s little more than a dried up mummy now.” Word count: 723 For “13,” 10.21.24 Prompt: “They’re coming to get you, Barbara.” —Johnny, Night of the Living Dead. |
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