Here's chapter 3! I hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you see any mistakes! Thanks!
Chapter 3
Abigail rested her forehead on Mrs. McHale’s hand, begging God, begging anyone who was listening to bring her back. Suddenly, events she had never witnessed, ideas she had never thought, moments she had never experienced, all came rushing to her, a swirling mass behind her eyes.
Images of a man she had only seen in old photographs came to life in her mind. The man and a young Mrs. McHale began to dance together, laughing as they went spinning around the room. Suddenly, the image faded, a new one coming to life before her.
Over and over again, images flashed behind her eyes, every single one different. There
were those of merriment, those that made Abigail want to join in on the fun and laughter. Then there were those of sadness and peril, those that Abigail felt lost in, those that made Abigail lose the longing to live.
She felt emotions like never before, each one, whether happy or sad, piercing her deeply. There were too many emotions at once, too many feelings that she had never felt before. She felt lost in the madness, unable to break through to the surface.
Suddenly, Abigail felt release, as she was brought back into reality. She felt like her chest was shriveling up due to lack of air, her heart beating too fast. Abigail knelt next to the bed, motionless, her thoughts consuming her mind. She had never been shown what death truly meant.
She stayed motionless for what felt like hours to Abigail, her body crying uncontrollable tears, her thoughts far beyond her physical world. She was beyond the realm of death, beyond the realm of life; she was in a world of her own.
She was with Mrs McHale, not the old decrepit woman whom others knew; it was the Mrs. McHale who Abigail connected with, the Mrs. McHale who Abigail would happily listen to for hours on end.
They sat in a meadow together, Mrs. McHale’s long iridescent blonde hair falling down her back, her skin a soft ivory, her eyes aqua blue. Every detail in this world was amplified; every speck of dust had turned to glitter in the air.
“Mrs. McHale?” Abigail whispered in wonder.
The woman smiled, nodding at her. Slowly, Mrs. McHale reached out her hand to Abigail, looking up towards the sky as she did so. Abigail grasped her hand still staring in awe at the beautiful woman.
Suddenly, Mrs. McHale began to glow softly. Abigail squeezed her hand tighter, trying not to let go.
“No!” Abigail cried.
But it was too late. Abigail felt the warmth of the woman’s hand slip through her fingers, as suddenly the light consumed Mrs. McHale, then fading into nothing.
“Thank you…”
Abigail was suddenly jolted awake by the sound of an opening door behind her.
“Abigail? Why are you…”
The moment her mother saw Abigail’s tears, she rushed into the room, and over to the other side of the bed. She placed a hand on Mrs. McHale’s face, suddenly lurching back at the icy cold touch of the woman’s physical body.
Slowly, her mother stepped backwards, lowering herself into a nearby chair, shaking her head back and forth as she went.
“No…oh lord... please no…” she spluttered.
She began to lean forward, her hand over her heart, crying tears Abigail had never seen before.
Suddenly, it occurred to Abigail that she would not be waking up form this nightmare of a dream. Through exasperated cries, Abigail sobbed into Mrs. McHale’s hand.
Only a few days later, Mrs McHale was buried. The funeral was short and simple, the only mourners being Abigail, her mother, and the priest. Abigail felt that her father needed to be there too, however, her father was still at sea, and did not even know that Mrs McHale was gone.
The day of the funeral, the clouds covered the sky like a gray woolen blanket. The eminent rain loomed in the air, making everything in the graveyard feel wet. Abigail wore a simple black dress, a black ribbon tied into her hair, her mother, standing beside her, held her hand tightly.
As the priest began his sermon, Abigail’s mind began to wander. Closing her eyes, she began to let her mind drift out of the real world, for reality was far too painful in that moment.
‘Mother?’ she whispered in her mind,‘why did Mrs. McHale have to leave us? She was so different to everyone else.’
Abigail’s thoughts faded back to only a few days earlier, and to what her mother had told her.
“Mother? Is Mrs. McHale in heaven?” Abigail asked a slight tinge of pain to her voice.
Her mother stopped sewing, looking to Abigail’s face.
“Come my dear, come here.” She beckoned.
Abigail obeyed, kneeling next to the chair where her mother was sitting. Gently, her mother stroked Abigail’s hair.
“Yes…she is…and she’s watching over us every moment.” Her mother said slowly.
“But how do you know that?” Abigail asked.
Her mother let out a sigh and closed her eyes momentarily.
“Because, I have faith in The Lord. He would not let Mrs. McHale, someone with such a kind and giving heart, someone so gentle; he would not let her soul leave this world in vain.” She said.
Abigail stared at her mother a moment, before turning to the ground.
“But Mother, why did she have to die? Couldn’t she have just stayed with us?” Abigail asked.
“I… I don’t know Abigail…God has his reasons, and mankind dare not question them.”
Suddenly, Abigail was jerked awake by the pull of her mother’s hand. Abigail opened her eyes to find that it had started to rain; the funeral was over.
Abigail and her mother went back to the house. They found it to be unbearably empty; despite the fact that only one person was truly gone. Abigail went back to her pallet by the fire, while her mother went upstairs to Mrs. McHale’s bedroom.
Abigail lay on her pallet, staring at the ceiling.
'Why?’ she thought to herself. ‘God…are you listening? Is there a reason? Or did you just do it on whim? Mother says you always have a reason… but I… I just can’t see why you had to take her away. God? If it was on a whim that you took her… then… how much longer will I have my parents with me? How long until you choose them to leave me?’
Abigail came back to reality, suddenly hearing someone behind her. She sat up, wiping the tears away.
“Mother…I” she began.
She turned, only to find a man standing behind her. He was a wealthy looking gentleman, his black top hat still perched on his head, his black cloak draped around his shoulders. His face had the expression of someone who was confused and shocked all at the same time.
Suddenly, his facial expression changed to that of anger, immense anger.
“You little rat!! Get out of here!” he yelled.
He stepped closer, as though intending to physically throw Abigail out the door. Abigail cowered at his voice, backing into the nearest corner in fear. She began to shake violently, her fear of the unknown man with such anger growing by the second.
She could feel his anger; she could feel it penetrating her very core, the frustration affecting her like never before. Fresh tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Suddenly, her mother came rushing down the servant stairs, obviously having heard the shouts. She placed herself between the stranger and Abigail, forming a defensive blocking wall.
“What’s this all about?!?” she yelled at the man.
“What’s this all about!? You dare ask ‘ME’ that question?!” the man yelled, his temper spilling out from inside of him. “Get out! Both of you! Get out of my mother’s house!”.
Suddenly Abigail’s mother’s expression changed.
“Your Mrs. McHale’s son?” she asked. “Sir... There’s been a large misunderstanding…” her mother began to say, walking forward.
“Don’t come near me you wench!” the man yelled, quickly striking Abigail’s mother across the face. Her mother fell to the ground, a red mark remaining where he had hit her.
“Mother!” Abigail cried, rushing forward.
The man looked to the woman and child huddled on the ground in fear. His temper never ceased, but an instant flash of pity came across his face. He stood, breathing heavily, unsure of what words to use.
Tears flowed down Abigail’s mother’s cheeks, her own temper beginning to seethe out from her.
“You’re no son of Mrs. McHale’s…Aye, you may be bound by blood, but I see no resemblance of the mind…” she spat.
The mans furry unleashed again, but just as he was about to strike her mother for the second time, Abigail dove forward, protecting her mother with her body. The man stopped in his tracks; it was obviously even against his morals to hit a helpless child.
Abigail began to sob.
“Please…p-please! We’ll go! Please don’t hit her anymore! We’ll leave! I promise! Just don’t… don’t hurt her!”
The man stood there, as though perplexed by the child protectiveness of her mother. Finally, he came out of his trance, looking around the room.
“You have until tomorrow evening…leave this place… and be glad I don’t call the police!” he hissed, turning and leaving the room.
Abigail was still crying, still being penetrated by unknown emotions. She could feel it in the air, the anger, the hate, the sadness. She knew it wasn’t normal to feel others emotions, but she knew she could.
Not knowing whether she was gifted or cursed, Abigail helped her mother get back onto her feet.
They had to leave.
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