Surely Somday: Prologue Two - Douglas Andrews
b>Author: Nichole
Challenge: Angel Food: 3. oath in vain
Extra: none
Topping: butterscotch
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,366
Story Title: Douglas Andrews
Story: Surely Someday
Summary: Douglas Andrews meets Maggie Quinn
Author's Note: This is a new series that I've started working on. All information can be found in the link above. I'm going for something a bit more supernatural, though there will be human drama and a little romance and comedy, too.
London, 2000
At the end of the long, narrow hall was a door; a tall, wooden door that loomed before him like some sort of nightmare. Or maybe it was more like his fate - a scary, unnatural thing that he wanted and feared all at once. He was making his own fate, stealing his brother’s fate . . .all for selfish reasons.
When he got to the door, he knocked. There was a long silence, before a tiny voice called out from the other side; “Hello . . . please leave.” The voice was female, tiny, accented - though he couldn’t place it.
“My name is Douglas Andrews.” He stated as calmly as he could. He could feel his voice crack. “I’ve come to see.”
“See what?” The Voice asked.
“You. I’ve heard about you from my Uncle Michael.” He cleared his throat. “I overhead, actually; he was telling my brother, Liam. I’m not supposed to know.”
There was a small thud on the other side of the door. He knew the Voice was leaning against the thick door; It’s back to him. “Liam’s going to take care of me now. Michael told me Liam would take care of me.” The Voice stated the last sentence in an odd way, almost as if It was willing the idea to be true.
He scoffed softly under his breath. “Liam’s an idiot. He’s in the new wave of conservatives. Good luck with him.” He paused again. Silently, he sat down on the carpeted floor, leaning his back against the door. He supposed the only thing separating his back from the Voice’s was the wood. “I . . .I came here to ask you something. I shouldn’t.” He sighed. “I don’t even believe in it; it’s fairy tale stuff for grandmas and stupid kids. But, I need to ask, and from what I’ve overheard, you might be the only one to ask.”
“I don’t know much, Douglas.”
“Call me Andrews. Only my wife calls me Douglas.” It came out more rough then he had wanted, but it was something that couldn’t be helped. The pain was stiff fresh, raw. It still felt like a weight was sitting on his chest. He still wanted to scream and cry all at once.
Andrews shook his head. “Called. I meant called.” Yes, called. It had been nearly two months since anyone - his family included - had called him by his first name. The last time his wife, Jenny, had said it; it had been a tiny, painful whisper. It still broke Andrews heart to hear the name spoke out loud.
He sniffed back tears and went on; “My Uncle Michael told my brother stories about you. You’re the hidden secret in our family. He said you don’t age or die.” Andrews swallowed hard, unsure how he could get the question to make sense. Nervously, he moved some of his long hair away from his face. “I want to know what happens after. After death.”
“I don’t know, because I haven’t died.” The Voice sounded regretful. It was something that nearly shocked Andrews. “I’d like to know, but I don’t know.”
He nearly laughed at that. For three weeks it had felt as if a weight was sitting on his chest. For nearly three months, he’d wanted to turn back the clock. For nearly a week, he’d been gaining the nerve to seek of the legendary family “curse”. And now, now he was being told It had no answers for him? The way his uncle had spoken, Andrews had assumed that It’d have the answers. That It’d be able to tell him what had happened, but. . .
“There’s a weight,” Andrews touched his chest. His heart was beating, but he wasn’t alive - not as he had been. “sitting on me. I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m going to die at any moment. And, all I wanted was for you to tell me they were okay and happy. That was supposed to make it all alright.”
From the other side of the door, the Voice moved uncomfortably. Andrews heard It place Its head against the door. “They are okay and happy, Andrews; because, you want them to be.”
“Oh?”
“I think so, yes.”
“You and Liam should get along just fine. He believes in Heaven; in everyone being alright. I don’t.”
“Is that why you are sad?” The Voice asked, sounding uncertain.
“I. . .”
“Do you think he’ll stay with me?” The Voice interrupted, suddenly sounding hopeful. “They usually only come to see me once a month, but . . . maybe Liam will stay longer.”
“Why don’t they stay with you? They’re supposed to and -“
“I scare them. But, that’s alright, because they scare me too.”
Somehow Andrews could relate to that. “So, you’re alone?”
There was a brief pause. “Always,” The Voice sounded far away; wistful. “I am always and forever alone.”
“If you could have anything in the universe . . .what would it be?” Andrews questioned. He found himself wanting to know; because, deep inside he was already thinking up a great, awful, beautiful, idea.
The Voice on the other side of the door didn’t hesitate to answer. “A friend.” The Voice paused again. “And, maybe to know the answer to your question about death. But, mostly I want a friend.”
“I could be your friend.” The words were out before he had even a moment to clearly think them over. “I could be your caregiver. I wouldn’t leave you for weeks at a time like the others. I’d stay . . . with you . . . I’d be your friend as long as you wanted.”
Andrews got up from his spot on the floor, dusted his jeans off, before knocking on the wooden door. “Instead of Liam, how about me?”
“It’s not a very good life, Andrews.”
“What kind of life do I have now?” Gently he pressed her; “Open the door, please.”
“But. . .”
“Open the door.” Andrews’ voice was firm, but gentle. “I’ll take care of you.” In his mind’s eye, he saw his wife on the other side of the door. He saw his second chance.
The door slowly opened, and for the first time he saw the Voice - the creature of whispered stories and nightmares. The Voice - the It - was a she. She was oddly tiny and pale; her long and curly brown locks seemed perfectly welcoming against her boney neck. She was wearing an ancient looking white dress. She looked bright and new; like perfection personified.
She stared into Andrews eyes for a split second, before she winched in pain. Her hands flew up to the sides of her head, and she began to scream. Her body crumbled to the ground; her eyes closed. Andrews had heard - overheard about this from his Uncle Michael - he knew she had seen into him. That she was now in pain because of him.
Quickly - without thinking - he rushed to her side, and grabbed her arm. “My name is Douglas Andrews.” He said as fast as he could, the words running together into nonsense. “I take my job. I take you as mine, forever.”
He heard her gasp, take a deep breath, and then; “I . . . yes, you are . . . yes.” Slowly she gazed up at him. “It. . .” her body untwisted, and she became calm. “You are my friend.” Taking her time, she allowed him to help her up. Her hand stayed in his as she spoke. “You are Andrews. I am Magdalena Quinn.”
“Well, Maggie, it’s nice to meet you.” Andrews shook her hand. “My brother isn’t going to like this.” He scoffed softly under his breath. “I’ve taken his job, and you can only have one bond with a normal human. So, what do you say we strike out on our own?”
“Strike out?”
Andrews smiled at her, the first real smile, in weeks. He leaned in closely and whispered; “Let’s run away together.”
The Voice - Maggie - nodded happily. “Let’s run away together.”
And so, later that night, they did run away. Far off away, to a place where Andrews was sure they’d never be found by anyone.
Challenge: Angel Food: 3. oath in vain
Extra: none
Topping: butterscotch
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,366
Story Title: Douglas Andrews
Story: Surely Someday
Summary: Douglas Andrews meets Maggie Quinn
Author's Note: This is a new series that I've started working on. All information can be found in the link above. I'm going for something a bit more supernatural, though there will be human drama and a little romance and comedy, too.
London, 2000
At the end of the long, narrow hall was a door; a tall, wooden door that loomed before him like some sort of nightmare. Or maybe it was more like his fate - a scary, unnatural thing that he wanted and feared all at once. He was making his own fate, stealing his brother’s fate . . .all for selfish reasons.
When he got to the door, he knocked. There was a long silence, before a tiny voice called out from the other side; “Hello . . . please leave.” The voice was female, tiny, accented - though he couldn’t place it.
“My name is Douglas Andrews.” He stated as calmly as he could. He could feel his voice crack. “I’ve come to see.”
“See what?” The Voice asked.
“You. I’ve heard about you from my Uncle Michael.” He cleared his throat. “I overhead, actually; he was telling my brother, Liam. I’m not supposed to know.”
There was a small thud on the other side of the door. He knew the Voice was leaning against the thick door; It’s back to him. “Liam’s going to take care of me now. Michael told me Liam would take care of me.” The Voice stated the last sentence in an odd way, almost as if It was willing the idea to be true.
He scoffed softly under his breath. “Liam’s an idiot. He’s in the new wave of conservatives. Good luck with him.” He paused again. Silently, he sat down on the carpeted floor, leaning his back against the door. He supposed the only thing separating his back from the Voice’s was the wood. “I . . .I came here to ask you something. I shouldn’t.” He sighed. “I don’t even believe in it; it’s fairy tale stuff for grandmas and stupid kids. But, I need to ask, and from what I’ve overheard, you might be the only one to ask.”
“I don’t know much, Douglas.”
“Call me Andrews. Only my wife calls me Douglas.” It came out more rough then he had wanted, but it was something that couldn’t be helped. The pain was stiff fresh, raw. It still felt like a weight was sitting on his chest. He still wanted to scream and cry all at once.
Andrews shook his head. “Called. I meant called.” Yes, called. It had been nearly two months since anyone - his family included - had called him by his first name. The last time his wife, Jenny, had said it; it had been a tiny, painful whisper. It still broke Andrews heart to hear the name spoke out loud.
He sniffed back tears and went on; “My Uncle Michael told my brother stories about you. You’re the hidden secret in our family. He said you don’t age or die.” Andrews swallowed hard, unsure how he could get the question to make sense. Nervously, he moved some of his long hair away from his face. “I want to know what happens after. After death.”
“I don’t know, because I haven’t died.” The Voice sounded regretful. It was something that nearly shocked Andrews. “I’d like to know, but I don’t know.”
He nearly laughed at that. For three weeks it had felt as if a weight was sitting on his chest. For nearly three months, he’d wanted to turn back the clock. For nearly a week, he’d been gaining the nerve to seek of the legendary family “curse”. And now, now he was being told It had no answers for him? The way his uncle had spoken, Andrews had assumed that It’d have the answers. That It’d be able to tell him what had happened, but. . .
“There’s a weight,” Andrews touched his chest. His heart was beating, but he wasn’t alive - not as he had been. “sitting on me. I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m going to die at any moment. And, all I wanted was for you to tell me they were okay and happy. That was supposed to make it all alright.”
From the other side of the door, the Voice moved uncomfortably. Andrews heard It place Its head against the door. “They are okay and happy, Andrews; because, you want them to be.”
“Oh?”
“I think so, yes.”
“You and Liam should get along just fine. He believes in Heaven; in everyone being alright. I don’t.”
“Is that why you are sad?” The Voice asked, sounding uncertain.
“I. . .”
“Do you think he’ll stay with me?” The Voice interrupted, suddenly sounding hopeful. “They usually only come to see me once a month, but . . . maybe Liam will stay longer.”
“Why don’t they stay with you? They’re supposed to and -“
“I scare them. But, that’s alright, because they scare me too.”
Somehow Andrews could relate to that. “So, you’re alone?”
There was a brief pause. “Always,” The Voice sounded far away; wistful. “I am always and forever alone.”
“If you could have anything in the universe . . .what would it be?” Andrews questioned. He found himself wanting to know; because, deep inside he was already thinking up a great, awful, beautiful, idea.
The Voice on the other side of the door didn’t hesitate to answer. “A friend.” The Voice paused again. “And, maybe to know the answer to your question about death. But, mostly I want a friend.”
“I could be your friend.” The words were out before he had even a moment to clearly think them over. “I could be your caregiver. I wouldn’t leave you for weeks at a time like the others. I’d stay . . . with you . . . I’d be your friend as long as you wanted.”
Andrews got up from his spot on the floor, dusted his jeans off, before knocking on the wooden door. “Instead of Liam, how about me?”
“It’s not a very good life, Andrews.”
“What kind of life do I have now?” Gently he pressed her; “Open the door, please.”
“But. . .”
“Open the door.” Andrews’ voice was firm, but gentle. “I’ll take care of you.” In his mind’s eye, he saw his wife on the other side of the door. He saw his second chance.
The door slowly opened, and for the first time he saw the Voice - the creature of whispered stories and nightmares. The Voice - the It - was a she. She was oddly tiny and pale; her long and curly brown locks seemed perfectly welcoming against her boney neck. She was wearing an ancient looking white dress. She looked bright and new; like perfection personified.
She stared into Andrews eyes for a split second, before she winched in pain. Her hands flew up to the sides of her head, and she began to scream. Her body crumbled to the ground; her eyes closed. Andrews had heard - overheard about this from his Uncle Michael - he knew she had seen into him. That she was now in pain because of him.
Quickly - without thinking - he rushed to her side, and grabbed her arm. “My name is Douglas Andrews.” He said as fast as he could, the words running together into nonsense. “I take my job. I take you as mine, forever.”
He heard her gasp, take a deep breath, and then; “I . . . yes, you are . . . yes.” Slowly she gazed up at him. “It. . .” her body untwisted, and she became calm. “You are my friend.” Taking her time, she allowed him to help her up. Her hand stayed in his as she spoke. “You are Andrews. I am Magdalena Quinn.”
“Well, Maggie, it’s nice to meet you.” Andrews shook her hand. “My brother isn’t going to like this.” He scoffed softly under his breath. “I’ve taken his job, and you can only have one bond with a normal human. So, what do you say we strike out on our own?”
“Strike out?”
Andrews smiled at her, the first real smile, in weeks. He leaned in closely and whispered; “Let’s run away together.”
The Voice - Maggie - nodded happily. “Let’s run away together.”
And so, later that night, they did run away. Far off away, to a place where Andrews was sure they’d never be found by anyone.