The dirt floor was covered with a white sheet spread from one end to the other. Two matching pillows were stacked at one side. The small wooden table was pushed off to the side along with the chairs and single bed. Everything barely fit into the one room hut, so the extra people and equipment didn’t help. The midwife ran around the room mixing different medicines and picking up objects that no one could identify. Two children sat on the bed confused about what was happening, but they remained silent. Their father crouched at the edge of the sheet crying in horror of what was to come. He stroked the hand of his wife as she screamed in pain. Her head lay on the pillows, face dripping with sweat. She held her oversized stomach with one hand while keeping a death grip on her husband’s with the other. According to the midwife, the pregnancy was going perfectly, but it did not look so in her eyes. Among all the commotion the Collector stood silently in the corner with his arms crossed, watching, waiting to take the newborn baby away.
It took hours. Through all the screaming and crying and pushing and cursing, a little boy was born. He was healthy and beautiful, though a little on the small side. His tan skin contrasted wildly with his bright blue eyes, though they were soon to change. Tears streamed down the mother’s face as she rocked him back and forth. She whispered her love to him, and a name that no one could hear. The two children wanted to get up to see the baby, but the father held them back.
When the midwife was sure the baby was okay, she nodded to the Collector. He walked slowly without speaking up to the mother. He held out his hands for the boy. The mother kissed her son on the forehead, and then relunctantly handed him off to the collector. Immediately after, she threw herself into the pillows and sobbed. The Collector nodded to the father, who, with tears in his eyes, nodded back, and then left with the child. And that was that.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy Without A Name
AdventureThe war between Noncredenti and Deimitopulus has been going on for longer than anyone can remember. It began when the Noncredentis crucified Jesus Christ, the prophet of the Deimitopuluses. Every third child in Noncredenti is now taken to become a...
