《The Divine Diaries (A Ravens & Qrows Collection of Short Stories)》 The Wayside (Gentleman Death) I stood on one side of the road: a shadow within the night sky, a still figure of black and grey, a gentlemanly scholar at the mercy of winter wind and December rain. To my side, shedding pitiful glimmers of light unto the desolate streets below, a flickering lamp post stood tall and foreboding ¡ª a hearkening of what¡¯s to come. ? And though the orange glow somewhat warmed me, the ground saw no shadow. ? From winding streets far and beyond came the screeching of rubber, and the cackling of crows; I made no attempt to intervene ¡ª it was fate, and one way or another, fate shall have its winnings. It would prove pointless to negotiate stakes. ? The screeching drew closer, and so did the pitter-patter- of naked feet against the cracked stone sidewalks. ? 8:14 ¡ª punctual as ever. ? ¡°Quite the weather we¡¯re having.¡± ? I turned to face her ever so slowly, a grim simper spread from ear to ear; there was no attempt to stifle the tears ¡ª rain alone had sufficed. ? Lemon yellow stained her apron, while cuts and bruises tattooed themselves unto her every finger. A simple server, I assumed, or perhaps a somewhat careless chef. A ribbon of red and white around her head suggested the latter. ¡°Yes, indeed, quite the weather.¡± ? ¡°Not many people around.¡± ? ¡°No, not at all.¡± ? ¡°But you¡¯re here.¡± ? ¡°It would appear so.¡± ? This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°Waiting for someone?¡± ? ¡°I suppose.¡± ? ¡°You¡¯re not much of a talker, are you?¡± ? ¡°Nothing wrong with a little quiet, no?¡± ? Her feet hit the pavement with a splash; not once did she bother glancing over the shining red that burned through the night sky like a flame in the flood. ? 8:15 ¡ª just like clockwork. ? I tried to warn her ¡ª many times. ¡°The light¡¯s red, darling.¡± ? And still, she persisted ¡ª as many had. ¡°Relax, there¡¯s not a car for miles!¡± ? Her bare feet slid against the road, twisted, and tripped. In the fleeting moments to come, she found herself lying face-down on the asphalt, dazed. ? As for myself, I was nothing short of aggrieved. Had there been time ¡ª had I done more ¡ª perhaps there would be a sliver of chance. ? But not today. ? Today, fate hungers. ? Bright, orange headlights set the night ablaze; a nearby icon of road-side safety waved to no avail. ? 8:16 ¡ª not a second late. ? Pity. ? The screeching of tires and roaring of engine came to an abrupt halt, replaced, almost completely, by a cacophony of shattered parts. ? The girl, stumped as ever to find herself unharmed, rose gingerly to her feet. I was by her side in an instance, offering what little comfort I could. ¡°You alright, miss?¡± ? She had neither words nor expression ¡ª only bewilderment. ? ¡°The car. . .¡± ? ¡°Yes.¡± ? ¡°I didn¡¯t. . .¡± ? ¡°Mhmm. . .¡± ¡°It just. . .¡± ? ¡°I saw.¡± ? She stared long and hard, the pigmented freckles of her face set alight by the sidewalk lamp. ¡°What''s. . . What''s your name, mister?¡± ? The words tripped over one another. ? ¡°Death. Gentleman Death, at your service.¡± 24th December (Gentleman Death) 8-past-5. ? 24th December. ? There we stood. ? The man, in his weathered uniform. ? The girl, in hers. ? And I, in mine. ? We were but specks among the barren white. ? Snow. ? Miles and miles of nothing but snow. ? ¡°B-Bonjour. Hello.¡± ? ¡°Good day, miz¡¯. Iz¡¯ such a fine day today, iz¡¯ it not? Iz¡¯ such a fine day for zhe¡¯ Christmas time.¡± ? 8-past-10. ? She extended a hand. ¡°Amelie.¡± ? He accepted. ¡°Schneider. Guzm¨¢n Schneider. Pleasure, miz¡¯.¡± ? The two sat side by side, watching a makeshift game of football unfold; the United Imperium States-Guards on one side, the Heimer Republic Troopers on the other. For a moment, it was as if the world stopped spinning; it was as if everything would be alright, would be just fine ¡ª would be all better and back to before things were quite as. . . Grim. ? But she knew better. ? He knew better. ? I knew better. ? 10-past-5. ? The match concluded, 3-2 in the Imperium¡¯s favour. Weary and fatigued, some came to huddle around campfires, exchanging gifts and treats; others saw more fit to share stories of past exploits and daring encounters. ? I watched from far away, quietly. ? The girl and the man too. ? ¡°Where from, monsieur?¡± ? ¡°Laestrohm. Iz¡¯ a beautiful city, miz¡¯. And you?¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ? ¡°Volburgh.¡± ? ¡°Pretty?¡± ? ¡°Oui, oui. Yes¡± ? 12-past-30. ¡°Where will you go, miz¡¯? After zhe¡¯ war iz¡¯ over.¡± ? ¡°Back home. They¡¯re waiting.¡± ? ¡°Zhe¡¯ family, eh?¡± ? ¡°What about you? Where off too?¡± ? ¡°My mother. . . She iz¡¯ sick. Zhe doctors think she doesn¡¯t have time, miz¡¯ Amelie. I think maybe. . . At zhe¡¯ end of zhis¡¯ month.¡± ? ¡°Sorry.¡± ? ¡°It iz¡¯ what it iz¡¯ ¡ª life, miz¡¯. Zhe¡¯ world doesn¡¯t stop spinning for me.¡± ? 16-past-45. ? They sat there for most of the day chatting amongst themselves, Herr Schneider and Mademoiselle DeRose. Chatting, giggling, snickering ¡ª almost like a normal couple. ? Which makes it even more of a shame, really. ? A damn shame. ? Maybe I should¡¯ve said something. Maybe I should¡¯ve told them to walk away. ? Together. ? Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have been there that day. ? On the 24th of December. ? On Christmas eve. ? 19-past-5. ? They¡¯re packing up now, both the Heimer Republic and the United Imperium. ? Tomorrow, it¡¯s as if today never even happened. ? Everybody would¡¯ve forgotten by then. ? Everybody but me, that is. ? The miracle of Christmas, I suppose. ? The girl stifled a tear. ¡°Well, monsieur.¡± ? ¡°Well, miz¡¯.¡± ? ¡°This is it, I guess.¡± ? ¡°Yes.¡± ? ¡°Tell your mother about me?¡± ? ¡°Of course.¡± ? Silence. ? ¡°Itz¡¯ been nice, miz¡¯.¡± ? ¡°Oui.¡± ? Silence, again. ? ¡°Amelie?¡± ? He opened the palm of one hand. ? Out fell a rose. ? Red as her lips. ? ¡°Iz¡¯ a present for my mother, but. . .¡± ? ¡°Oh, Schneider.¡± ? She brought the bud to her lips, smiling. ? ¡°Merci, mon ch¨¦ri. Thank you.¡± ? ¡°You¡¯re. . . Welcome, miz¡¯.¡± ? They went separate ways. ? 8-past-5. ? 25th December. ? No one knew, but I did. ? Oh, I did. ? Somewhere, out there, a mother would die never having seen her son for the last ever time, and a family, their daughter. ? Shame. A real damn shame. Mother, Mother (Gentleman Death) Mother held unto a lit candlestick, wet, scalding wax dripping from both her hands. Slowly at first, she descended the steps ¡ª one at a time ¡ª until the light of day was no more, and the dark of her basement came to smother the senses. Still, she ventured forth, heart thumping, breath weary, knees weak and arms heavy. ? The air was damp down here, and the stench of decay, unmistakable. Skittering pests, with any number of limbs, plagued the basement altogether, scampering from floor to wall, wall to ceiling, ceiling to holes in the bricks and from thereon, to the shadows beyond. Mother did not care for the pests. ? She cared only for Little Brother, and Little Brother was no more. ? She stood before the blood, falling unto a knee. Earth from a pagan burial site, long forgotten; water from a running river, tainted by virgin souls; wind from the valleys of the east, carrying cries of the tormented; and fire that burned brightest, when it licked squirming flesh alive. All was as it should be, and all was here alas. ? Mother sat by the circle, candle in her hands, and Father lay within, eyes lifeless as ever. Already, the maggots had begun feasting upon his charred skin and brittle bones, digging into his blackened flesh, and nestling into his running eyes. But it mattered little; Mother was ready, now more than ever. I watched as she placed her hands together. ? I watched as the tears rolled down the sides of her face. ? I watched as she prayed, and prayed, and prayed. ? If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. And I watched as her prayers were made real. ? A hole in the floor, the size of a small well, opened up. Father¡¯s body flew unto the basement ceiling, spraying Mother in bits of charcoal and patches of dried skin. Then, just as in the storybooks, a set of hands emerged from the very same hole ¡ª black, crooked, devilish ¡ª dragging his corpse into the void, swallowing it whole. ? And just like that, Father was no more. ? The Abyss had accepted her offering. ? And so did It Who Hungers. ? But Gentleman Death ¡ª wicked as he was crafty ¡ª did not. How could he? He had been denied his rightful claim and Life¡¯s greatest treasure yet, that is, death itself. ? He sent for Mother a gift she sought to the ends of the world. ? He sent for her a soul, lost to the sands of time, but not forgotten. ? He sent for her, Little Brother. ? But not Little Brother as Mother would have remembered. ? All that remained of him was but the face. ? A face that Father and Mother and I once knew. ? But a body no longer his, grotesque and malformed ¡ª with arms for legs and legs and for arms, and with only flesh and bone but no skin. ? Mother knew what she had to do. ? Father would not suffice. ? She turned and faced me, crawling upon all fours up the basement stairs. ? ¡°Just one more. . .¡± ? Little Brother smiled.