The Last Colloquy

“Must you seek discourse in such uninviting circumstances” said the child.

“Uninviting? This shelter of timber and bells provides a most suitable invitation” he replied.

“So be it. Tis tedious to proceed, like this, even more to see you leer” the child’s gaze stood firm penetrating him grievously like a shard. “What’s done is done. Lament is but a fool’s gesture”

“Perhaps you speak the truth… but I am stricken… painstakingly… as you may see” He said gently caressing the child’s ghostly brows. “I had dreamt of this moment countless times but not in such…” he looked at the child and smiled, “… uninviting circumstances”

A smile cracked open upon the child’s vapid face, “Yet still you persist. So ghoulish, so fiendish, sadistic to feed the voracity of your ravens.” The child took a pause, “Blame yourself not. Fend yourself from your self-inflictions. This festival of inflictions, desist it, it pains me more than a rupturing womb”

“I blame none but all” he said.

“Hush fool! Spit out that jester’s tongue before it consumes you” The child thwarted, “Unbar your mind. Speak well and speak true for this may be your last… or mine”

Tears scathing his cheeks like acid, “I am your culprit. I am not the dagger, but worse, I am the one who holds. I loved her, I wanted to save her and she was all I had, then more than ever… I did what I must… I just want you to know”

“Needs must when the devil drives” said the child.

 A moment of taciturnity followed. 

The child murdered the silence “May I ask… upon whose feet do you place this gold?”

“I am afraid I do not understand” perplexed he asked.

“Which God offers you paradise for your penance? Who is it that you are trying to please, convince, satisfy? The more you utter, the more discomforting this is becoming. It is unbecoming. Desist, like I said, you blight our blood with your insolent whines”

“I am in mourning. Tis visible in manifest. I grieve for my losses, I grieve for my faults, for the murders. I beg for pardon… from you more than else’s” He spoke with a tearful demeanor.

“Pardon? Who am I to give? I lack in emotion as I lack in blood. Pardon’s a motley my dear blood giver. Tis Kaleidoscopic, a harlequin of empty hope pardon is. I cannot forgive you. Emotions never invigorated my gentle fingers to understand what pardon is. The scorch of the sun never burnt my skin to understand what feelings are. Thus, I lack in ability of granting what you deem me as most capable”

He crumbled into a fit of despair. Crying like a squalling harpy. “I was short of options. The doctors had declared. A decision was imminent from my side. I did what I must, I loved you more than the God’s had decreed”

“But you loved her more. Understandably so” the child spoke nonchalantly, “I am being expected. Fare thee well”

“No… Wait… You must wait… I need your pardon… for I fear… death’s consummation” he screeched.

The child gave one final look, a scouring look full of answers to the questions never asked. “Death? You are already dead, my dear blood giver. More dead than death itself. You soul is tainted, branded by the hellhounds who will forever howl your name. The Reaper shall dine with you every fortnight and tell tales of decaying infants. Till eternity thou shalt suffer… and mark my words as it is my last… pardon shall never kiss thy nape”

His rugged shoulders fell miserably. “Now avast and avaunt for tis time I pass” 

The child vanished.

Almost instantaneously a gentle hand touched his shoulders, “It is time… come”

“I am not done yet” he said.

“Who are you talking to?” the gentle man said.

“He speaks… he always spoke… I told them… I told them countless times!” he turned around and screamed, visibly stirred. A disheartening spectacle, even for a church.

He turned back, only to stare at an empty coffin, bijou in size, for an infant.

A larger coffin was waiting outside.

A rare breeze of clarity gushed in from the doorway… 

And he understood…

The smallest coffins… are always the heaviest.