short story

Con? Can you put Ronan to bed? Isebel isn’t feeling well.”
A young Irish family is getting settled in for the night in a small two bedroom cabin in the small Irish town of Nom. The fire is dying down, the children yawning on their parents’ laps, the 3-year-old boy on his 23-year-old fathers lap; a little 2-year-old girl on her 20-year-old mothers lap. The little girl cuddles into her mother, whimpering quietly about a stomach pain.
“Yes. I can, my Gwen. Come on then, Ronan. Bedtime, my son.” Con gets up, picking up the little boy as he protests, claiming he’s not tired as he yawns widely.
“But mommy! I wanna stay up with you and daddy!” the boy says.
“Ronan…you have to go to bed. You can stay up late tomorrow night, if it’s okay with your father. Mommy loves you, Ronan. Now get to bed.” Gwen kisses Ronan softly on the forehead, giving him a soft, loving look that mothers give their sons.
Ronan looks back at his mother with tired green eyes, his brown hair needing a trim badly. Con leans down and places a soft kiss on Gwen’s lips, the kiss holding secret promises of eternal love and devotion from him.
Con steps away from Gwen then down the hall, walking into the children’s room, whispering to Ronan about a fantasy land where dragon’s and witches live in harmony. Gwen sits on the couch, running her fingers through Isebel’s hair, pulling her little girl closer to her.
“Isebel? Do you want to sleep with mommy and daddy of your brother?”
Isebel looks up to her mother with soft green brown eyes, much like her fathers, then snuggles her face into Gwen’s chest, sniffling quietly.
“Okay, my baby.” Gwen knew what her daughter wanted. She gently pulls her child closer, standing up and walking toward her and Con’s bedroom, past the children’s room where Con is still telling Ronan a story long forgotten by most. Gwen gently sets Isebel on the large bed dominating most of the room, shushing her when she tries to stay close to Gwen.
Gwen lays down on the bed, pulling Isebel into her, waiting for Con to join her and help her put Isebel to sleep with one of his stories. As she waits she whispers the story of how her and Con met, how they married and age 13 for her, 15 for him. How much she loves that man. What she wants for her little Isebel, Isebel looking up at Gwen, seeming to understand every word.
Con walks into the room quietly, Isebel just falling to sleep. He gets into bed on the other side of her, wrapping his arms around his wife and daughter. A sigh escapes Isebel lips right before she falls asleep, lightly snoring.
Gwen and Con look at one another, smiling softly. Slowly and quietly they both get up and go into the living room, quietly sitting down on the couch, the fire almost dead, the embers casting eerie shadows across the wall.
Gwen falls into a light sleep on Cons chest, unaware that in a few hours nothing will ever be the same about her life.

~~~

The moon was high in the sky when the silence was broken. Gwen and Con laying in deep sleep in their bed, little Isebel in between them, Ronan in his bed. All very deep in sleep. Unannounced to any of them an intruder has entered their home. A dark haired, fair skinned man stands in the doorway of their house, a knife in his hand, an insane smile on his gaunt face.
The man slips into the house unseen, looking for little children. He searches quietly around the front room, the parlor, the kitchen to no avail. He pads silently down the hall, a psychopathic glint in his eyes. His steps that of a black cat; he makes no noise as he slowly opens the door to Ronan and Isebel’s bedroom. The smile on his lips widens, he knows that the stories of two little children living in this house must be correct. He steps into the room, shutting the door behind him silently.
One step closer to the little boy deep in slumber.
Another.
A soft sigh slips through the man’s lips. He makes it to the bed, still unnoticed by anyone.
He runs his hands along Ronan’s arm, rousing him from sleep.
“Daddy?” Ronan whispers through sleepy lips, having a hard time opening sleep filled eyes.
“Shh…hush young one. It shall all be over soon.” The man’s voice is chilling; a shiver runs down Ronan’s spine, goose bumps appearing along his arms.
“Daddy?” louder then before, his eyes opening. Filling with pure terror.
The man places a hand over Ronan’s mouth roughly, pulling a strip of cloth from his pocket and gagging the young boy. The man knows that his time is running short. He tests the blades’ sharpness on his finger, a line of blood appearing. He places the knife on the Ronan’s neck, wishing that he could prolong this experience. The feeling. Wishing that it was a little girl so that he could tear away the innocence before tearing away her life.
If the rumors were true then there would be a little girl. The man smiles a wicked smile, showing yellow crooked teeth. In one swish movement there is a large gash in the boy’s neck, a gagged scream coming from the terrified boy. His eyes filled with fear, terror, questions. The scream written on his face, his life blood pouring out of him.
The man stands, nodding to himself. The feel of victory courses through his body. It’s not over yet, however. There is another child living here. A daughter. A girl. His favorite. He licks his lips, the gleam in his eyes growing brighter.
He removes the gag and the knife from the boy, not knowing that Ronan was still alive. Barely. He turns his back, letting the boy die behind him. Suddenly a blood curdling scream erupts from Ronan. The man turns around and slices the boy’s neck deeper, cutting off the scream. However the damage had already been done.
Con, Gwen and Isebel woke with a start, Con throwing himself out of bed. He fumbles with the crude knife on the bedside table, knowing that something wasn’t right. Someone was there.
Con thunders out of the room into the hallway, taking a sharp turn into Ronan’s room, unaware of anything but the fist that connected to his left temple, knocking him down with the force of the blow.
Con gives his head a quick shake, kicking back onto his feet, swinging at the gaunt man that had killed his son.
This is not how things should be the man thought sullenly. He aims a kick for Con’s neck, his foot hitting the target with well practiced ease. Con drops, spluttering for air, giving the murderer enough time to knock him out with a heavy blow to the head.
The mystery man straightens, knowing where the little girl is from her innocent screaming.
Gwen tries to shush Isebel, the girl letting out a scream after Con left