(no subject)
You sleep so soundly, you know that? Gently curled up on my lap, your breath whistling out of your tiny mouth and nose in a steady rhythm. I stroke your baby-soft hair as you nuzzle closer, a slight smile on your perfect little lips. You had a rough day, playing and dancing, cavorting with the imaginary and the mundane. I can't help but smile in thinking of your innocent frolicking... but it is a sad smile, for I know the truth. Though you've only seen six summers, soon your winter will come, child. Were that I could, I would spare you this harsh truth, this deified preordination. But I am only a parent, and what can a parent do but wish for the best?
You play with your friends at swordfighting and childish combat games... but as you do, I see all too often flashes of your future, where that parry, that well-timed leap, that thrust will be all that stands between you and the yawning chasm of death. Oh god, it hurts to know that, one day, you will be taken from me to fight the battles this world will never know about. Always keeping them from tumbling into total oblivion, you will work... this sleep may never again fall upon your eyes. For if there is no rest for the wicked, then there can be less even for those who fight them. I would guard your door as you slept, if I could, keeping them at bay. But I am only a parent, and what can a parent do but offer words of caution and of comfort?
Your mind will be subject to the depridations of ravenous, hate-filled creatures who will desire only your painful death. You will have to contend with the legions of the Adversary, always fighting, always killing. Your mind might grow dull with the apparantly senseless slaughter, the unending waves of the Damned rushing onto your blade... and there will be no one to stand beside you. My sweet, sweet demon slayer, you are bound for a lonley path. Your friends cannot join you on the journey you are set for, for they are not strong enough. It was not they of whom the prophecies speak, but you. I would stand beside you in that fight, blade held high in defiance of their demonic tyranny, but I am only a parent. And what can a parent do but gently rub your back after you are numb with slaughter and lonliness?
They will come, and they will fight, and they will die. And you will fight them... and the worst thing I can possibly fathom will happen. You will die one day, to. They will be too many in number, to great in ferocity... and their poison claws will pierce your flesh, their frothing mouths will close over your neck, and their wicked barbed tails will push through you... and you'll.. die. Because that is what the prophecy demands... For there to be a divine intervention, the greatest of us must be sacrificed to prove our sincerity... and believe me, my sweet, when I say that there is no greater, more perfect a person than you. Were that I could, I would sacrifice my own life that you might have one of your own, your very own, one day. But I am only a parent, and what can a parent do but... oh god, this is too much.
I'm trying not to quiver with my sobs, now. My tears gently dropping to your face. You bury your head into the crook of my arm to get away from them. I take your face gently in my hands, stroking your cheeks with the tender care only a mother can offer. And as your feathery eyelashes flutter open, I cannot hold back a sob, and a smile of joy. You are my child, my baby. You aren't some demon slayer, not some ordained warrior of light. You're a six year old boy, looking with full love and trust into the face of your mother. And it is those beautiful blue eyes that hold me in arrest... the goodness of the world wrapped up in one perfect package.
"Mommy"... your soft little voice says the word, the truest word any child can know. The word that means safety, calm... love. I lean down to offer you a kiss on the forehead, feel again the softness of your hair, the touch of your little hand in mine. And as you lay your head back down to sleep, I let my fingers slowly encircle your neck, and begin squeezing.
Were that I could, I would give you a life worth living. Time to grow and become your own man. But I cannot. I can, however, choose to spare you the hell they've chosen for you. Play now, my son, in the fields of heaven... safe... forever.
You play with your friends at swordfighting and childish combat games... but as you do, I see all too often flashes of your future, where that parry, that well-timed leap, that thrust will be all that stands between you and the yawning chasm of death. Oh god, it hurts to know that, one day, you will be taken from me to fight the battles this world will never know about. Always keeping them from tumbling into total oblivion, you will work... this sleep may never again fall upon your eyes. For if there is no rest for the wicked, then there can be less even for those who fight them. I would guard your door as you slept, if I could, keeping them at bay. But I am only a parent, and what can a parent do but offer words of caution and of comfort?
Your mind will be subject to the depridations of ravenous, hate-filled creatures who will desire only your painful death. You will have to contend with the legions of the Adversary, always fighting, always killing. Your mind might grow dull with the apparantly senseless slaughter, the unending waves of the Damned rushing onto your blade... and there will be no one to stand beside you. My sweet, sweet demon slayer, you are bound for a lonley path. Your friends cannot join you on the journey you are set for, for they are not strong enough. It was not they of whom the prophecies speak, but you. I would stand beside you in that fight, blade held high in defiance of their demonic tyranny, but I am only a parent. And what can a parent do but gently rub your back after you are numb with slaughter and lonliness?
They will come, and they will fight, and they will die. And you will fight them... and the worst thing I can possibly fathom will happen. You will die one day, to. They will be too many in number, to great in ferocity... and their poison claws will pierce your flesh, their frothing mouths will close over your neck, and their wicked barbed tails will push through you... and you'll.. die. Because that is what the prophecy demands... For there to be a divine intervention, the greatest of us must be sacrificed to prove our sincerity... and believe me, my sweet, when I say that there is no greater, more perfect a person than you. Were that I could, I would sacrifice my own life that you might have one of your own, your very own, one day. But I am only a parent, and what can a parent do but... oh god, this is too much.
I'm trying not to quiver with my sobs, now. My tears gently dropping to your face. You bury your head into the crook of my arm to get away from them. I take your face gently in my hands, stroking your cheeks with the tender care only a mother can offer. And as your feathery eyelashes flutter open, I cannot hold back a sob, and a smile of joy. You are my child, my baby. You aren't some demon slayer, not some ordained warrior of light. You're a six year old boy, looking with full love and trust into the face of your mother. And it is those beautiful blue eyes that hold me in arrest... the goodness of the world wrapped up in one perfect package.
"Mommy"... your soft little voice says the word, the truest word any child can know. The word that means safety, calm... love. I lean down to offer you a kiss on the forehead, feel again the softness of your hair, the touch of your little hand in mine. And as you lay your head back down to sleep, I let my fingers slowly encircle your neck, and begin squeezing.
Were that I could, I would give you a life worth living. Time to grow and become your own man. But I cannot. I can, however, choose to spare you the hell they've chosen for you. Play now, my son, in the fields of heaven... safe... forever.