The rain grew calm save for the hail-like droplets. She stood in the small garden full of abundant plants and leaf giants that had absorbed most of the rainfall. her gaze traced one of the heavy droplets, watched as it seemed to cling to her petunias. The air was thick and humid, still smelling of wet earth.
She got lost in thought before she patted her skirt down. Waiting for her clothes on the line to get dry.
"Ugh with this cloudy weather tonight at this point I'd doubt these rags ever get dry.
Talk about the worst timing."
The clouds overhead wore a deep, bruised purple that promised a thunderstorm later that night. However, something gawned on her, making her feel uneasy. Settling over her, was the familiar feeling that often preceded a storm.
Then she heard it.
The noise grew from a faint sound, to a desperate cry, the wail was almost too silent amidst the oppressive stillness the storm left behind. She paused, tilting her head. A cat? No. Too weak, too... human. Her heart quickened its pace she moved through her garden gate and towards the front door. the sense of foreboding deepened with every step.
She fumbled with the latch, pushing the heavy oak door open just a crack, half- expecting the sound of the wailing to cease. But it only grew louder and more urgent. For a moment there she Stole herself, pulling the door open.
There, on her cold, wet pavement lay a bundled up infant in a basket alone. She gasped in shock almost dropping to her knees. In her eyes someone had left it here to die.
Oh no…this, this is horrible. How come someone can be so cruel ? abandoning it in the streets no less the house of a stranger.
but just then a strange dark figure came into view clad in black leather appeared, and tried reaching for the child. She cleared her throat quickly looked around and said: "Excuse me What do you think your doing?" The sharp tone managed to startled them. They snatched their hand back just as quickly as they reached. scrambling away disappearing into the shadows before she could question them further.
She pinched the bridge of her nose with the tips of both thumb and index finger of her left arm in a sigh.
(Who was that? Don't tell me they were after him. Clearly they've never been taught decency otherwise they'd have never tried to steal away the child. I swear this generation has no manners whatsoever. )
But then she remembered why she got out here in the first place ah! The child.
She looked down at him, her eyes softening with pity wondering how he's even still alive.
Nonetheless she took the cold, shivering newborn into her hands and slammed the door shut.
Locking the deadbolt with a resounding click that echoed through the quiet house.
Inside, she rushed to the warmth of her kitchen(hearth). The baby wailed, a weak, pitiful sound. "Oh, you poor thing," she murmured, her panicked confusion shifted to that of a fierce, protective almost maternal concern. The child was icy to the touch, skin-tinged faintly blue.
She had no formula those were expensive and rare these days, but she had a small, reliable fireplace as she added firewood.
Quickly, she poured some fresh milk into a Posnet, warming it on the fire just enough to be safe. She found an old eyedropper and, holding the baby close, began to feed him the warm milk drop by drop. The child latched onto the dropper with surprising strength, a small, desperate sound of relief escaping his lips as his tiny body began to warm up.
Once fed, the wailing subsided into soft whimpers. She carried the now calmer infant to her rocking chair in the living room. The outside world, the dark clouds, the hidden threat, faded away as she focused solely on the small life in her arms. She began to rock gently, a quiet lullaby rising from her throat—an old tune her own mother used to sing, forgotten for decades until now.
She watched the baby's eyelids grow heavy, his small body finally relaxing completely against her warmth. A feeling of profound calm settled over her. She knew at that moment what she had to do. Get him to a new home
Looking down at his peaceful face, she whispered, her voice soft but resolute, "oh I almost forgot he needs a name."
A smile touched her lips. " you'll be Flash....let's see flash...Bearak yes that's perfect."
subconsciously Keisuke tried to say something but faltered reality made it clear He's infancy couldn't handle his mind....Yet.
Ms. Anscalt's declaration lingered. As on the outside the hissing and crackling returned . growing louder in the hollowing winds, the storm had only just begun.