The tale of the Beauregard twins does not end happily. Nor does it start happily and neither is the middle, for it isn’t even mild or mundane.


    Their tale is all around plain awful and I advise that you''d close this book and pick up something more lighthearted.


    What is even sadder, is that even at their very beginning, the Beauregard twins were destined for a horrible life.


    It began on a horrid Wednesday morning during a January Freeze. The sky was grey from a downpour of freezing rain that dumped buckets onto the small town of Brackenwell.


    In its small hospital sat the Beauregard parents, Mr. and Mrs. Beauregard. Sitting in a cramped room, Mr. Beauregard was on a chair in the corner, watching his wife writhe in pain on the hospital bed with a cigar in his mouth. He’d casually glance back at her and the newspapers, reading the Brackenwell Bugle ’s sports report and lottery numbers. The rain pelting against the windows with icy ferocity, sounding more like hail than droplets of water.


    Mrs. Beauregard’s face was pale and clammy, twisting with every contraction as the storm roared outside. “Winston!” She grunted, her voice strained as she reached out toward him past the helpful nurses, her fingers trembling with effort.


    "You''re doing fine, Kendra," Mr. Beauregard muttered, not lifting his eyes from the paper. His tone was as dull as the pencil in his hand, lacking even the faintest hint of empathy. He tapped it restlessly against the paper, leaning back comfortably while his wife sat up in agony.


    The doctor, standing near the end of the bed, cleared his throat, glancing disapprovingly at the detached husband. He was an older man, with thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and an expression that had grown weary from years of delivering babies into all sorts of circumstances. He places a reassuring hand on the pained woman, pushing her carefully back down as she keeps contracting. He turned to his assistant nurse and nodded. “It''s time. Mrs. Beauregard, you’re going into labor!” He yells, hoping to get Mr. Beauregard’s attention.


    The storm began to roar outside as Kendra braced herself, gritting her teeth as she pushed. The freezing rain hammering against the windows as if protesting the new arrivals.


    After what felt like an eternity, a cry echoed through the room. A boy—small, red-faced, and wailing with a ferocity that startled even the seasoned nurse. She quickly swaddled him in a blanket, her hands steady despite the heaviness of his small form.


    “One more, Mrs. Beauregard," the doctor said gently.


    Kendra’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Another?" she rasped, her breath catching.


    She hadn’t prepared for twins; no one had mentioned it during her sparse checkups. But there was no time to dwell on it, another contraction gripped her. She cried out as the second baby entered the world—a girl. Her cries were softer than her brother’s, but they carried an eerie, mournful tone that sent a chill down the spines of everyone in the room.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Kendra gasps, laying back against the pillows as her daughter was wrapped up in a warm pink blanket, being laid next to her brother where her cries quieted to soft coos. Kendra’s body shook, quaking as it calmed from the sporadic pulsing and tensing. The twins were soon placed in her arms and she just stared at them, a blank look on her face.


    “They’re….” She breathed heavily as Mr. Beauregard finally got up from his chair. Walking over to her, he took the cigar out of his mouth and blew a puff of smoke into the air. “They’re yours to deal with. But they are cute.” He says, eyes scanning up and down both his children.


    “They’re perfect, Winston.” She grumbled, her brief happiness quickly replaced by annoyance. “And oh please, we both know you’ll love ‘em too.”


    “Easy for you to say, you won’t have to pay the medical bill.” He retorted, going back to his cigar as she rocked the children.


    Kendra and the nurses glanced at him in shock, soon looking back at the twins slept calmly in her arms. Soon taken away by the nurses for further check up, Kendra sat in bed as the storm grew worse outside.


    “What are you gonna name them?” Mr. Beauregard asked, crossing his legs in the chair as his wife stared at him tiredly.


    “You got any in mind?” She retorted, nuzzling into one of the pillows.


    “For the boy? Yes. For the girl…no.” He grunted, taking another puff from his cigar. “Martin sounds nice for him.”


    “Really?!” She says, fixing her messy hair as a nurse comes back into the room with food for her. “After your own father.”


    “What?!” He shrugs, handed a coffee he had ordered an hour before. “It’s a good, strong name for a black man. Our boy could take over the family business or do good things with that name!” He chuckled.


    Mrs. Beauregard rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips. “Fine, Martin it is. But if you’re naming the boy, I get to name the girl.”


    “Fair enough,” Winston said, leaning back in his chair, his cigar now a stub resting in the ashtray.


    Mrs. Beauregard tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling as rain pelted the window. A name danced on the edge of her mind, one that brought warmth despite the storm outside. “Ruth,” she finally said, her voice soft.


    Mr. Beauregard raised an eyebrow. “Ruth? Why Ruth?”


    “If we’re going off this whole older, inspirational family member theme for names, then I want our daughter to be named after my grandmother.” She said, smiling tiredly. “She was strong. Smart. Held our family together when everything fell apart. I want her to have that.”


    Mr. Beauregard cocked his eyebrow, scoffing. “Ruth and Martin, huh? That has no rhyme nor ring to it. How about your mother’s? What was it again? Mabel? Margret? Or something like that.” He groaned, rubbing his temple as he sipped his coffee again.


    “Mirabel.” Mrs. Beauregard sighed, thinking about it. “And that isn’t bad.”


    “Then it’s settled. The children will be called Martin and Mirabel.” He smiled finally, leaning back in his chair.


    “Long as Ruth is somewhere in her full name.” She perked up, another nurse walking in to hand her the twins birth certificates.


    “Fine.” Mr. Beauregard groaned, still not like the name. Or rather, the woman who it belonged to. Let’s just say, they didn’t have the best of relationships a mother and son-in-law should have.


    Mrs. Beauregard smirked, seeing the flicker of annoyance on her husband’s face. “Good. I’ll sign their certificates then.” She’s handed a pin writing the names Mirabel Ruth Beauregard and Martin Winston Beauregard on both respectively. “Oh don’t look so glum, Winston. I’m sure their names are just as perfect as you wanted them to be.”


    Mr. Beauregard grunted in reluctant agreement, signing his name afterwards but his expression discreetly softened as he looked at the twins bundled up in their cribs.