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Left Behind

Title: Left behind


Author Eglantine_br


Word Count 473


Rating G


Spoilers None


Disclaimer they are not mine






Left Behind





The sun dazzled even through his
eyelids.




With an effort Archie pushed sleep
back. He gave himself over to the soft white flatness of the bed,
stretching until his legs shook. The bed-curtains were tied back, the
whole room visible. The plaster ceiling was a complexity of white. As
a child Horatio had looked up at just this same shining curve.
Archie smiled to think of it.




He did not need the sun to tell him he
had slept late and long. The room was warming with the advent of day,
and the house was silent. Archie was empty above and too full below.
And with this awareness, of course, there would be no going back to
sleep, even had he wanted to do so.




He would get up, in a moment. It was
good not to move. There were remnants in this room. Here was the
debris of Horatio's childhood, too loved be removed. It was here all
around, shed husks of boyhood like the midden piles of a long gone
race. There were books of course, and tops, and battered cards,
little drawings, and blotty bits of writing. In the wardrobe there
was even a small pair of shoes. They were no longer than Archie's
palm. They had no smell at all, not even of leather, but there was a
bit of long ago mud caked to one sole. Perhaps Horatio had worn them
to school. Horatio claimed not to remember, and why should he?




Archie knew well that his own things
were long gone. With brothers above him, and sisters below, there was
not much time to be saving one boys leavings. He fancied some of his
copy books might be saved in the London house attic, but that was
all. Maybe a historian would find them someday. They would know only
that small Archibald had held his quill poorly.




The tutor had belted his hand, and his
brothers had laughed at his tears, but they had been kinder later. No
one would ever know that. And no one would ever know of Horatio
skipping solemnly beside his father, in his little shoes.




Well he was awake now. He washed and
dressed quickly. The chamber pot had a picture of a duck in a hat
flying a kite.




From the stairs he could hear quiet
voices. Horatio and his father, speaking without heat, but with
interest. They were leaning across the table, looking at something
together. The table was full with coffee cups and elbows, and the
sunlight rioted in Horatio's hair. They looked up, and saw him, and
they smiled.




They smiled to see him.




“Good morning Mr Kennedy,” the
doctor said




“Come have apple cake.” Horatio
said.




Surely that was no reason for Archie's
throat to fill with tears.











Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
amaraal
Oct. 15th, 2011 11:51 am (UTC)
Sweet like the apple pie :)

I watched all sequels recently. It's a pity Archie dies in the end, huh? But that scene, and all others you have written so far, blends in so perfectly.

We should collect them and publish our own book. Just saying :)
eglantine_br
Oct. 15th, 2011 08:26 pm (UTC)
Oh, you are so kind. Made my day. I had a really crummy day yesterday, and seeing your comment really meant a lot.

I wrote another apple story today. I think I have apples on my mind, it is fall, after all-- apple time.
bauhiniakapok
Sep. 20th, 2016 06:19 am (UTC)
This is...well, it's hard to comment on your work without being repetitive, because each and every thing you write is lovely and wonderful and I love it. So this is...homey and cozy and sweet and warm and nostalgic. I love the silly little-boy chamber pot, still in use, and the solemn skipping,mand the heartbreak it causes Archie to realize how much he is loved.

My three-year-old is going on an airplane with his Baba again today. This will be my husband's second time this month to take our little guy with him on a long business trip. The older kids are all in school, but Little Guy (who refers to himself as Baby Doggy) is still free to keep Baba company. He takes a nap on the sofa every afternoon in the office where Baba works during these trips. In the evening they go for a walk - Baba jogs and Little Guy chases him by scooting along on his little yellow balance bike. I like to see them together. Baba has short, straight, jet black hair, golden skin, and big, light brown eyes. Baby Doggy has almost-blond soft curls, fair creamy-gold skin, and big, very dark brown eyes. I'm not sure how blue eyes plus light brown eyes can produce such a dark brown eyed child. DNA is apparently more complicated than those lovely Punnett Squares we did in high school biology class. I really liked Punnett Squares and recessive DNA. I use them to explain to my eldest daughter what her odds are of having a certain percentage of blue- or brown-eyed children, depending whom she marries. Fascinating!
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )