GRIM

- Prologue -

A deafening silence engulfs the small hospital room. A man in his early twenties stands to the left of the metal hospital bed which is at the centre of the room, a hand in his unruly blonde hair, and salty tears pouring out of his dull blue eyes. His posture is deflated and hunched, not masking his obvious grief.

A nurse is stood facing him, her greying hair is pinned neatly in a tight bun on the top of her head, and her warm hazel eyes are focused on the bundle of pale pink blankets, bunched up in her arms. These blankets hold a pale child - stillborn.  Next to her stands a doctor, in his late thirties, with ragged brown hair and saddened green eyes which flicker backwards and forwards between the man, the child and the bed. His body is bent slightly forward in defeat - he'd lost his patient.

Laying on the bed, is a woman who, like the man appears to be in her early twenties. Her brown hair spills over the thin white pillow, almost appearing in the shape of a halo around her colourless face. Her cracked lips are parted, releasing no breaths of air, and her eyes are shielded by delicate, pale, purple eyelids. A thin white sheet is pulled up to her waist, and the muse carefully placed the bundle in the deceased woman's limp arms. slowly the doctor lifts the sheet to cover the woman and child completely.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

A strangled cry escapes the man's mouth as he collapses to his knees on the ground - He had lost his wife and child, all within a single hour.

Unbeknown to the occupants of the room, a cloaked figure stands in the far right corner, holding two large, frail phosphorescent souls in one of his boney hands - a mother and daughter. After assessing the scene with a hidden face, he turns around still clutching the souls.

But he moves too fast.

One of the souls falls,  finding its owner before he can catch it again.

With a silent curse, the cloaked figure leaves, holding tightly onto the one soul he still has. Never before has he lost a soul and he is unaware of the implications.

In a comforting manor, the nurse puts her arm around the mans shoulder, slowly leading him out of the room. Just as the room opens, a weak cry eschews around the room over the mans sobs.

Confused, the nurse looks at the doctor, who is staring intently at the white sheet which seems to be moving slightly. Cautiously, he peels it back, revealing a squirming infant whose face is pulled tight in a frown and is emitting weak cries next to her still mother.

All three stare at the infant in shock and amazement.

"How?" The doctor stutters, asking no one in particular, "she was dead for at least ten minutes."

The room falls into silence again, excluding the quite wails from the tiny infant.

"It's a miracle." Whispers the nurse, as she stares open mouthed at the child.

Carefully, the doctor picks her up before handing her to her father.

"Congratulations, it's a girl."