"I've been tryin' to call you all godsdamn day! Where are ya, I need yer help with somethin' and we need to–" The elderly woman's face wrinkled first into one of confusion when the voice that replied to her began to tell her about how if she had been injured in a car by a truck, then she was eligible for some sort of insurance. She didn't catch all of it however, because anger soon came over her as she realized that her call had been deliberately declined before the call had even gotten passed its second ring.
Her hand trembled some as she stared at the number on the screen of her phone, the phone itself being flip phone due to her distaste for the more modern technology. She didn't know why she felt so angry, for she had expected for there not to be an answer. Perhaps it was because of the fact that even if she hadn't been expecting an answer to begin with, she also didn't expect for her call to be declined in such a way that she was led to believe that her granddaughter had indeed answered by the grace of some miracle.
The elderly's woman's anger became like a wildfire at times over the years, for once it began it took more than deep breaths and stress balls before it would calm completely. And even then, whatever it was directed towards would still feel the resentment that she held towards either them as a person or the actions that had brought about the emotion. Her time in solitude had only increased the the intensity of that wildfire until eventually she had to resort to breaking something. Throwing things. Yelling and screaming. Because while she was alone in the confines of her home, the only person or thing that she could harm in such a rage was herself. Even at old age, her magic was well refined and her strength not that of an average woman of her age by far. But neither were anywhere near their prime.
Out among the public where to the naked eye, she was merely an average woman with a tendency to be bitter from the perspectives of many, and her terrible moods didn't exactly help with that, though she didn't care for the opinions much. However, she knew that her husband would have needed her calm if he were there, and so she took a trembling breath in and forced the rage down into the depths of herself. She knew that she had no right to be upset with anyone but herself. After all, it was her who had to cause the fallout between them. But she couldn't help but to feel something towards her granddaughter's lack of knowledge of what was occurring, yet in the same instance it was her own fault for her paranoia and distrust of enlightening her before everything was set in stone as it was meant to be. It was torture, much like the last decades of her life. Her life, once rays of joy a summer now a melancholic storm of blistering, bitter cold.
She hadn't gotten much closer to the hospital before having to remind herself that now wasn't the time to be distracted by the years and years of grief that had become apart of her. Not today, she told herself. This was because of two reasons. The first was that while out in public she had to remain wary at all times whether it was of the people around her or the places, or even the animals. Because all was not always what it seemed to be. And who better to know this so well than herself? After all, after being stuck in this dimension, such a phrase could have summed up the entirety of her life there. Even now, what those ignorant to what was beneath the surface saw was a fragile old woman who was slowly falling into the grasp of becoming senile. And she didn't blame them.
The second reason was that today was going to be the only day she had in such a long time to let loose. To try to enjoy herself unlike she ever had before through all of the years that she had spent alone for the greater good. Years that had been spent doing all that she could to ensure that her granddaughter as well as many others were prepared for what would come. Years spent screaming and wailing inside in silence at the expense of her own sanity while remaining as strong willed and composed on the outside as she needed to be for those that she cared deeply for. Time had been treacherous and unkind to her. But today would at the very least be a gift, for it was her day of birth–or if she were to remain true to herself, her day of creation. And she intended to spend it well.
The hospital air was as cool as it always was no matter the season. This day was particularly busier than usual. Rolling beds sounded like lunch carts against the waxed floors, and the mechanical sounds of some of the machines were completely unavoidable as were the bits and pieces of voices tying together in idle and quiet chatter once the threshold of the building's entrance was crossed. It's employees went about their day as usual if not with a bit more vigor due to the as they moved about due to the amount of unusual injuries, causalities, and near deaths that had been brought about during the pass couple of months. And this month had been no different.
This made it much more easier for the elderly woman to ease passed the front desk unnoticed. It was better when she didn't have to waste her time on papers that weren't important enough to have it while she was occupied with more important things.
As worked up as she was, she remained as polite as she could to the reflections of the beings from the world she once knew. Ones that she once seen as only mere imitations that were so easily broken but held terrifying potential. Her eyes lingered on the elevator, watching its doors push themselves aside for the people within to spill from it like a colony of ants from the mouth of their mound. She greeted some of them with a "Good day" and a sober smile as she stepped into the now much less packed box of metal, now occupied by only what appeared to be a family of three and a older woman who seemed to be older than she herself appeared to be physically. She avoided looking to the small family who looked to be so well off and grateful despite being visitors to a building where many were either injured physically or by sickness, or left to die altogether. She could feel that they were experiencing some variety of grief, but as long as they'd be together as one they would overcome such a thing.
But the older woman was one whom she couldn't help but to glance at out of curiosity, the exhaustion that troubled the wrinkles that were staged on her face. The small bouquet of sunflowers that the elderly woman held securely within the clutch of her thin hands and fingers caught her eye. While the elevator took them up however, she said nothing until the doors opened up and they were the last ones to exit.
"Those are some beautiful flowers ya've got there. If I'd know no better, I'd say that those were the freshest of the bunches?" She said, though puzzled by the woman's shared expression.
"They were," the old woman answered, the braids of grey and white in her long but thinning hair moving along with her head as she looked to the flowers within her hands. "I grew them myself."
"I see. You have quite the green thumb I'd assume?" She could see the hesitation within the woman, and so she sought to ease her. "I have some green fingers myself. But, all these little tenders tend to be good at growin' is corn."
"Corn? In Florida?" The woman asked, surprised by this. "I guess that's not too far out of the norm."
"Oh heaven's no! To far away from home for me to be comin' down this way just to grow some stalks of corn. Better to grow than to pay three dollars a can for somethin' that ain't full of all of them chemicals they like to spray."
The woman scoffed. "Nowadays getting something without all of that crap is starting to become harder little by little. If its you who's been growing that corn that I get from the farmer's market then you've been doing a hellavu job." She paused for a moment.
They both were brought into a brief moment where just for the few seconds that they chuckled, the hospital around them seemed to just...disappear.
"I'm Charlotte."
"A fittin' name for a woman aged like fine wine."
"You're too kind! May I ask what your name is?"
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Carlyle. Most've taken to callin' me Constantine."
"And which of those lovely names may I be addressing you by today?"
"It depends. Perhaps if we continue our conversation while we're on our way, you may find out." She smiled at the woman she could now call Charlotte, who seemed to find the way she had her brought her into a now full blown conversation amusing.
"My stop's just down the hall there," Charlotte said, returning her smile with a less appealing and perhaps embarrassed one that consisted of a few rotting teeth that had been forced into cahoots with cleaner ones.
While they started their way down the hall, Carlyle was the one to speak again first. "Those flowers of yers, I hope who you're bring'em to are grateful. They really are somethin' to look at."
"Thank you–They're for my niece. She loves them, always have. I even ended up getting her a sundress with them sewed into it for her birthday about two or three years ago. She absolutely loved it! Maybe a bit to much, because it took almost a week to convince her that she had other things to where."
Carlyle found herself snickering delightfully because it reminded her of something similar that occurred with her granddaughter years ago. Instead if a dress however, it was her very first wand. "That sure enough sounds like it was a hassle that was worth rememberin'."
"Oh you think so? You should've seen her when she first realized that once you waste enough on clothes they get stained. She threw a fit, and I swear to you with both hands on the bible that she thought that it 'died'." Charlotte laughed, coughing a little while in the middle of doing so.
But Carlyle could hear it, the pain that her laughter sought to be a blanket to. She had to stop herself from frowning and instead made herself laugh a little as well. She had long since learned that laughing with someone through their pain was the best that one could do, especially when it came to a stranger. But she was also worried. Worried that this was but another piece to her punishment being given to her from the world.
Her hand trembled some as she stared at the number on the screen of her phone, the phone itself being flip phone due to her distaste for the more modern technology. She didn't know why she felt so angry, for she had expected for there not to be an answer. Perhaps it was because of the fact that even if she hadn't been expecting an answer to begin with, she also didn't expect for her call to be declined in such a way that she was led to believe that her granddaughter had indeed answered by the grace of some miracle.
The elderly's woman's anger became like a wildfire at times over the years, for once it began it took more than deep breaths and stress balls before it would calm completely. And even then, whatever it was directed towards would still feel the resentment that she held towards either them as a person or the actions that had brought about the emotion. Her time in solitude had only increased the the intensity of that wildfire until eventually she had to resort to breaking something. Throwing things. Yelling and screaming. Because while she was alone in the confines of her home, the only person or thing that she could harm in such a rage was herself. Even at old age, her magic was well refined and her strength not that of an average woman of her age by far. But neither were anywhere near their prime.
Out among the public where to the naked eye, she was merely an average woman with a tendency to be bitter from the perspectives of many, and her terrible moods didn't exactly help with that, though she didn't care for the opinions much. However, she knew that her husband would have needed her calm if he were there, and so she took a trembling breath in and forced the rage down into the depths of herself. She knew that she had no right to be upset with anyone but herself. After all, it was her who had to cause the fallout between them. But she couldn't help but to feel something towards her granddaughter's lack of knowledge of what was occurring, yet in the same instance it was her own fault for her paranoia and distrust of enlightening her before everything was set in stone as it was meant to be. It was torture, much like the last decades of her life. Her life, once rays of joy a summer now a melancholic storm of blistering, bitter cold.
She hadn't gotten much closer to the hospital before having to remind herself that now wasn't the time to be distracted by the years and years of grief that had become apart of her. Not today, she told herself. This was because of two reasons. The first was that while out in public she had to remain wary at all times whether it was of the people around her or the places, or even the animals. Because all was not always what it seemed to be. And who better to know this so well than herself? After all, after being stuck in this dimension, such a phrase could have summed up the entirety of her life there. Even now, what those ignorant to what was beneath the surface saw was a fragile old woman who was slowly falling into the grasp of becoming senile. And she didn't blame them.
The second reason was that today was going to be the only day she had in such a long time to let loose. To try to enjoy herself unlike she ever had before through all of the years that she had spent alone for the greater good. Years that had been spent doing all that she could to ensure that her granddaughter as well as many others were prepared for what would come. Years spent screaming and wailing inside in silence at the expense of her own sanity while remaining as strong willed and composed on the outside as she needed to be for those that she cared deeply for. Time had been treacherous and unkind to her. But today would at the very least be a gift, for it was her day of birth–or if she were to remain true to herself, her day of creation. And she intended to spend it well.
The hospital air was as cool as it always was no matter the season. This day was particularly busier than usual. Rolling beds sounded like lunch carts against the waxed floors, and the mechanical sounds of some of the machines were completely unavoidable as were the bits and pieces of voices tying together in idle and quiet chatter once the threshold of the building's entrance was crossed. It's employees went about their day as usual if not with a bit more vigor due to the as they moved about due to the amount of unusual injuries, causalities, and near deaths that had been brought about during the pass couple of months. And this month had been no different.
This made it much more easier for the elderly woman to ease passed the front desk unnoticed. It was better when she didn't have to waste her time on papers that weren't important enough to have it while she was occupied with more important things.
As worked up as she was, she remained as polite as she could to the reflections of the beings from the world she once knew. Ones that she once seen as only mere imitations that were so easily broken but held terrifying potential. Her eyes lingered on the elevator, watching its doors push themselves aside for the people within to spill from it like a colony of ants from the mouth of their mound. She greeted some of them with a "Good day" and a sober smile as she stepped into the now much less packed box of metal, now occupied by only what appeared to be a family of three and a older woman who seemed to be older than she herself appeared to be physically. She avoided looking to the small family who looked to be so well off and grateful despite being visitors to a building where many were either injured physically or by sickness, or left to die altogether. She could feel that they were experiencing some variety of grief, but as long as they'd be together as one they would overcome such a thing.
But the older woman was one whom she couldn't help but to glance at out of curiosity, the exhaustion that troubled the wrinkles that were staged on her face. The small bouquet of sunflowers that the elderly woman held securely within the clutch of her thin hands and fingers caught her eye. While the elevator took them up however, she said nothing until the doors opened up and they were the last ones to exit.
"Those are some beautiful flowers ya've got there. If I'd know no better, I'd say that those were the freshest of the bunches?" She said, though puzzled by the woman's shared expression.
"They were," the old woman answered, the braids of grey and white in her long but thinning hair moving along with her head as she looked to the flowers within her hands. "I grew them myself."
"I see. You have quite the green thumb I'd assume?" She could see the hesitation within the woman, and so she sought to ease her. "I have some green fingers myself. But, all these little tenders tend to be good at growin' is corn."
"Corn? In Florida?" The woman asked, surprised by this. "I guess that's not too far out of the norm."
"Oh heaven's no! To far away from home for me to be comin' down this way just to grow some stalks of corn. Better to grow than to pay three dollars a can for somethin' that ain't full of all of them chemicals they like to spray."
The woman scoffed. "Nowadays getting something without all of that crap is starting to become harder little by little. If its you who's been growing that corn that I get from the farmer's market then you've been doing a hellavu job." She paused for a moment.
They both were brought into a brief moment where just for the few seconds that they chuckled, the hospital around them seemed to just...disappear.
"I'm Charlotte."
"A fittin' name for a woman aged like fine wine."
"You're too kind! May I ask what your name is?"
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Carlyle. Most've taken to callin' me Constantine."
"And which of those lovely names may I be addressing you by today?"
"It depends. Perhaps if we continue our conversation while we're on our way, you may find out." She smiled at the woman she could now call Charlotte, who seemed to find the way she had her brought her into a now full blown conversation amusing.
"My stop's just down the hall there," Charlotte said, returning her smile with a less appealing and perhaps embarrassed one that consisted of a few rotting teeth that had been forced into cahoots with cleaner ones.
While they started their way down the hall, Carlyle was the one to speak again first. "Those flowers of yers, I hope who you're bring'em to are grateful. They really are somethin' to look at."
"Thank you–They're for my niece. She loves them, always have. I even ended up getting her a sundress with them sewed into it for her birthday about two or three years ago. She absolutely loved it! Maybe a bit to much, because it took almost a week to convince her that she had other things to where."
Carlyle found herself snickering delightfully because it reminded her of something similar that occurred with her granddaughter years ago. Instead if a dress however, it was her very first wand. "That sure enough sounds like it was a hassle that was worth rememberin'."
"Oh you think so? You should've seen her when she first realized that once you waste enough on clothes they get stained. She threw a fit, and I swear to you with both hands on the bible that she thought that it 'died'." Charlotte laughed, coughing a little while in the middle of doing so.
But Carlyle could hear it, the pain that her laughter sought to be a blanket to. She had to stop herself from frowning and instead made herself laugh a little as well. She had long since learned that laughing with someone through their pain was the best that one could do, especially when it came to a stranger. But she was also worried. Worried that this was but another piece to her punishment being given to her from the world.