Until The End Of The World

Until The End Of The World

An Original Story By Chris Richards

The beautiful white blanket of snow stretched for miles in every
direction and George sighed, putting a flame to the china pipe he held
between his lips, shaking his head ever so slightly.
It had all fallen during the night, a not unexpected thing to see at
this time of year, especially up in the Highlands of Scotland, but even
so George was surprised at the ferocity with which it had managed to
descend in a matter of only a few hours. It may have been picturesque
to look at, but at his time of life it was damn cold and so pulling the
collar of his coat a little further up he stepped back inside, closing
the door behind him, kicking the snow from his shoes before slipping
them off.
He lived in an old stone cottage and inside was much warmer, the real
coal fire he'd lit earlier burning happily in the hearth, emanating a
luminous glow. Stepping into the kitchen he struck a match and lit the
gas stove, filling the kettle with water before leaving it to
boil.
Upstairs he could hear his wife coughing and he felt his heart sink a
little deeper, knowing that it would be sooner rather than later that
he would be all alone in this world. He walked over to the picture of
them on their wedding day, the one that sat on the mahogany dresser in
the dining room and he smiled at how beautiful his wife looked, how
radiant and then he felt the tears coming and he had to look
away.

"Alice ?" George whispered quietly as he slowly pushed the bedroom
door open, stepping inside. "Are you awake ?"
"Come in, George.." The frail woman in bed replied. "I'm just resting
my eyes, dear." She said with a slight smile.
"I've brought you a nice cup of tea." George placed the cup and saucer
on her bedside table, helping her to sit up, adjusting her pillows and
blankets so that she could be more comfortable. "It's been
snowing."
"I thought so, there seemed to be a bright glow coming from outside."
Alice said, picking up her cup and sipping at it's contents. "Mmmmmm.
That's lovely." She smiled.
"Are you warm enough ?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
George moved to sit on the bed with her, taking hold of her free hand,
feeling how cold her flesh was. He sometimes regretted the fact that
they'd moved so far North, but when they were younger and had been more
able bodied, it had seemed a good idea to get away from the hustle and
bustle of the big city. London never saw snow like this.........
They'd been married for fifty three years, but for one reason or
another had never had any children and therefore no grandchildren and
that was another thing that George regretted, the fact that they'd have
no heirs to carry on their legacy, that there would be nobody to mourn
their passing. He often wished it was he who was dying of cancer, that
it was he rather than Alice who was bed bound, too ill to move, too
frail to do almost anything unaided. He knew that Alice would cope
without him, she had a strong character and could adapt to anything.
She wouldn't even allow her illness to get her down, putting a brave
face on it even though she knew that destiny would soon be calling. But
for him life without his wife was no life at all.......
"What would you like for lunch ?" He asked. "I've got some steak if
you'd......?"
"That would be lovely." Alice smiled, squeezing his hand, looking into
his grey eyes. "Not too well done though." She said, handing him the
now empty cup."My poor teeth can't chew anything too tough."
"I'll get started on it in a moment." He informed her, standing.
"George ?"
"Yes dear ?"
"You wouldn't be an angel and pass me that book young Emily brought
for me the other day, would you ?"
Emily was the home help who visited three times a week, bringing fresh
bread, milk and groceries, helping George to keep the house clean and
free from the clutter that could so easily build up. Apart from the
doctor, she was the only visitor they had these days, all of their
friends having either passed away or moved back to civilisation, where
the nearest house wasn't five miles down the road.
Walking over to the dressing table, George found the black bound book
and brought it over to his wife, gently handing it to her.
"What's it about ?" He asked.
"I'm not sure." Alice lied. "Emily just thought it would be a good
read for me."
George nodded, quickly losing interest.
"Well, I'll go and make a start on lunch, just call me if you need
anything."
"I will. Thank you, George"

For awhile after coming downstairs George sat listening to his wife
read aloud, her voice almost becoming like a chant, rythmic in it's
tone. Feeling himself start to nod off he forced himself up and decided
that he needed some fresh air before he started to cook, looking at the
clock and finding that it was only just after eleven o'clock.
Out of courtesy more than anything else he always went outside when he
wanted to smoke.
As he stepped out into the cold morning air once again George closed
his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine that he was someplace else,
someplace happier. Holding the bag of stale bread he'd gathered from
the kitchen he walked down the garden, hearing the gentle trickle of
the little river that ran along the bottom, down a few steps.
Alice always liked to go down there in warmer, happier times, she
enjoyed the serenity of it, but since the illness had taken a grasp of
her she'd been out less and less.
George opened up the bag and began to throw out the bread scattering
it all over the snow covered ground. He wondered if the birds would be
able to find it, stepping down the stone steps to the river to see if
any ducks had found their way along there as so often happened.
What he saw though stopped him dead in his tracks.
The hand was barely visible as it protruded out of the water, still
and unmoving, the body to which it was attatched hidden by reeds and
plants.
"Oh my God!" He gasped, his eyes darting around as though looking for
something, someone. Then he threw himself forward, splashing into the
water, wading in until the icey coldness of it lapped around his
knees.
Carefully he pulled back the plants, revealing the body of a young
woman dressed in a long white dress and without thinking he scooped her
up in his arms and took her back to land, laying her gently on the
ground, grabbing her wrist as he tried to find a pulse.
Amazingly he found one, although it was weak and so picking her up
once again he took her into the house, placing her down by the fire,
rushing to get her towels and a blanket.
But still she remained motionless.
Reaching for the phone he tried dialing 999, but found that the line
was dead.
"Damn." He muttered, wondering if the lines were be down due to the
weather.
His breath was laboured and for a moment he paused, calming himself,
looking at the girl's pale white flesh, her blue lips, curly blonde
hair flattened against her scalp. It was barely noticeable but he could
see that her chest was slowly bobbing up and down, showing that she was
indeed alive.
"George ? George ?!" Alice called from upstairs. "What's going on
?"
"I'll be there in a moment."
"What ?"
"I said I'll be there in a moment !"
The girl suddenly made a low murmuring sound and George turned back to
her, moving closer so that he was kneeling next to her body.
"Can you hear me ?" He asked, taking hold of her icy cold hand. "How
are you feeling ?"
Her eyes flickered slightly, slowly opening, blinking at him
silently.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you." George informed her.
"You were outside in the water....."
Her eyes closed again and then suddenly she sat bolt
upright..........

"How is she now ?" Alice asked, eating the cheese sandwich that her
husband had made in place of the steak. "Has she said anything yet
?"
It had been two hours since George had found the girl in the stream
and in that time he'd been making regular progress reports back upto to
his wife. She'd warmed up considerably in that time, changing into some
of Alice's not so 'old' looking clothes, eating and drinking the things
that George had placed before her. But as yet she had said nothing, not
giving an explanation as to how or why she was in the stream in the
first place.
"She's trying to sleep." George informed his wife. "Hasn't said a
thing yet though."
"Maybe she's in shock ?"
Shaking his head, George walked over to the window, looking down at
the garden, the river beyond.
"Maybe.....It's strange though, don't you think ? That she could be
out here, miles from anywhere, dressed in a cotton summerdress, without
shoes and yet somehow she's still alive, despite being in the water for
Heaven knows how long ?"
"We should just be grateful that she's recovering so well."
George nodded.
"I suppose you're right." He sighed. "It's damn peculiar though, all
the same."
"Maybe she was in a car accident or something ?"
"I don't know.....I wish I had some kind of answer."
"Have you tried the phone again ?"
"I'll give it a go when I go back down."
"Probably the weather" Alice suggested. "It happens sometimes."
George smiled at her and she smiled back.
"How's the book ? You seem to be making your way through it
alright."
"I'm just reading the parts that I need to........."

Downstairs, a short time later, George tried sparking up
conversation.......
"My name's George. What's yours ?"
The girl looked at him and smiled, cocking her head to one side.
"Do you speak English ?" He felt foolish asking, but could think of
nothing else, after all she wasn't deaf. She'd heard him coming down
the stairs, turning to look at him. She'd even understood him when he'd
asked her if she was warm enough, nodding at him, giving him that
wonderous smile.
"Can you remember how you came to be in the water ?" He continued to
press. "Was there anybody else with you ?" Sighing, he turned to the
fire, watching the flames as they danced about before his eyes.

Listening upstairs, Alice smiled to herself, knowing that her time
would soon come, that she'd done everything she could. She thought
about what would happen in the next few hours, wondering how George
would cope with the shock of it all. Hoping that he wouldn't collapse
under the shock.
"You're a good man, George Murray." She whispered to herself, closing
her eyes. "And I'll love you forever, until the end of the world."
Letting out one final breath she smiled again and quietly passed
away.

George awoke with a start, almost jumping out of his seat.
How long had he been asleep ? What time was it ?
He stood, hearing movement on the stairs, surprised to see the young
girl descend, the black book Emily had given to Alice, clasped tightly
to her chest.
"What's going on ?" George demanded to know, stepping forward as the
girl approached the fire,casually throwing the book into the inferno.
"What the Hell do you think you are doing ?!" He growled, but fell
silent as the girl reached out for him and placed a finger against his
lips.
"SSSSSHHHHHHH" She whispered to him, taking his hand, pulling him
towards her. "Follow me." She said, speaking for the first time,
leading him upstairs to where Alice's motionless body awaited
him.
"Oh, God ! No ! Not yet ! I never even got to say goodbye !" George
sobbed, rushing forward, grasping hold of his wife's cold body, pulling
her tight against him. "I'm sorry ! I'm so sorry I wasn't here for
you." The tears flooded out and he could feel himself choking. Then he
remembered the girl and looked over at her. "Please leave us alone." He
beckoned, but the girl just stood their and shook her head.
"I can't." She said in a gentle voice. "Not yet." and moving forward
she went to stand on the other side of the bed, placing a hand against
Alice's stomach.
"Thank you." She whispered.
George stared at her, his eyes widening in wonder as her body began to
change, the good looks of youth quickly changing into the lined,
beautiful face of his wife.
"Don't worry, George. It's going to be alright." She said, turning to
look back at the body in the bed, the body that suddenly seemed to
become transparent, dissolving into water that soaked quickly into the
mattress like ice on a napkin in the summer sun.
"I'll never leave you, George." She smiled at him, reaching across for
his hand. "I'm yours forever....."

The End

Copyright: Chris Richards 2001

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