My effort
"Blood"
The tears would not stop, they flowed relentlessly, the stinging drops clouding his vision as he stared. They were so many.
But the blood was more.
They cut through the grime and dust to leave wet rivulets down his tortured face. They would not stop.
But the blood had.
He could think of nothing but his anger. Could not think to embrace her, to talk to her, to grieve for her. Hatred filled his body and soul.
His rough hands still gripped the sickle. Gripped it so hard that his knuckles were white. He could not feel it.
He could only feel the hatred.
He lifted his gaze. It had gone. Fled like the rat it was. It knew no remorse. Even now it cared only for it's own pathetic existence. He could see it stumbling across the rough ground. Scurrying to it's hole.
He became aware of the handle of the sickle. It still bore the blood of the beautiful creature which it had struck down. He had always thought her heavenly and beyond perfect. He had not told her that enough. He would tell her now, there would be no more chances. He lent down and brushed a lock of her hair away from her lifeless face.
"I am so sorry" He wept "and I know this is the last thing you would want me to do. But for all your beauty and goodness and all our efforts we failed and this is the price of that failure"
He looked into her face, hoping that the severity of the promise he was making would will her into life once more.
"So now I go to right our most terrible wrong. Please, don't be angry with me, I am so sorry"
He sobbed pitifully over her body. In the distance he could see the thing entering the house. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, hefted the sickle and kissed his wifes cheek.
"Goodbye my love"
He stared at the crib. It wasn't particuarly elegant, he didn't know how to make things look beautiful but it was undeniably solid and well made. A few coats of varnish should finish it off nicely.
He only hoped he would need to.
Another scream came through the door. His hands gripped the arms of the old chair. He had never felt so useless.
The door opened and his mother hurried out, he stared worriedly at the blood on her apron, he made to stand.
"Sit down" she said flapping an arm at him as she filled a jug with water from the tin bath. "There's nothing you can do now except sit and wait."
She hurried back into the bedroom.
He sat back in the chair, his fathers chair. He wished his father were here now, he had always been the man to go to in a time of crisis.
Another scream grated across his frayed nerves. He stood up, he had to be with her, damn his mother. He reached the door and grabbed the handle and then he heard the cry.
It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard at that moment, it was the cry that signified his wifes suffering was over, that his child lived.
His mother opened the door. She looked tired, they were all exhausted, but she was smiling.
"It's a girl" she said.
He let out a sob.
"Don't just stand there" She chided him "Come in and see her"
He made his way over to his wife, his mother and sister in law were tending to her needs.
She looked exhausted, pale and washed out but he had never seen her so happy. The child lay on her breast, swaddled tightly it cried suddenly and then settled.
An odd cry, he thought and he had wanted a boy to take his fathers name but he was just glad it was over.
He kissed his wife on her brow. "You did it" He said to her gently so the women could not hear "I am so proud of you."
She stared lovingly at the baby.
The wind whipped his hair around his face as he stared at the door.
It was a strong door, he knew that, he had made it himself many years ago. Made to stop the weather, to keep their children safe from themselves to keep intruders out. It was stout, made of good timber, it would take quite some time to break it down.
But there was no need.
The door opened, not ominously, not creakily, it was almost devoid of any drama it merely opened.
Standing there, pitiful, was the thing he hated most in the world. It had ruined him, ruined the good name of his family, ruined his livelihood. Everything it touched turned to misery and pain. His beautiful Theresa had loved this 'thing' more than she had loved anything and it had gladly done everything it could to utterly destroy her.
It stared at him, it's rodent like eyes darting between his face and the sickle. It's mouth dropped open to speak.
"Hurry!" Theresa shouted as he ran to the river "Please!"
Such a foolish thing to say, he thought, as if he would do anything else.
He reached the bank, and tried to catch his breath as he looked for any sign of Arthur, there was none.
He looked back down the path, he could see his wife running toward him, the girl at her side.
"Where is he?" He shouted to her.
They came up to him, the child would not meet his gaze.
"Where is he? Where did you leave him?"
"Like I told Mama" She said "He went out on the branch and wouldn't come back, I told him he would get into trouble if he didn't but he wouldn't come back"
He stared at her in horror and looked out across the river. It wasn't particuarly strong but the boy was only five years old.
He could hear his wife weeping, he stared again at the girl but she would not look at him.
He ran along the bank and looked for his son.
It stared at him, it's rodent like eyes darting between his face and the sickle. It's mouth dropped open to speak.
"What lies will you speak now?" He said to it. "What possible combination of meaningless words can that serpent like tongue of yours put together to make this 'misunderstanding' someone elses fault?"
"You killed her!" It said "You had the blade!"
"It was meant for you" He hefted the blade "and by God I will finish what I started"
It yelped and shut the door but it was not quick enough. He kicked hard as he advanced. It had tried to stop him but the sheer force of the farmers fury forced it backwards screaming.
He advanced on it the bloody blade high above his head.
"Daddy! No!"
Daddy! It only ever said that when it wanted something. He stared into the terrified eyes of his daughter.
"Please, Daddy! I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry."
They were Theresas eyes.
He rarely saw it. He had seen it when she was born, when he too once loved her, when she was crawling then walking and embracing him when he returned from the fields.
But now she was reaching for a knife
He began to cry again.
"It's okay, Daddy. It's okay"
He let himself look once again into the eyes. How could something with his wifes eyes possibly be bad.
He let out a long sob.
And then the blade struck.
He worked the sickle hard in his fury, his wife stood behind him, the girl at her side.
"Please listen to her" She begged him "This isn't her fault"
"It never is" He said as he continued his work
It was over, the farm was finished. No-one in the town would do business with him now and who could blame them.
Theresa was adamant that the girl was innocent in all this.
"It's that boy" She said "He's wicked"
He rounded on her angrily then checked himself.
"That boy" he said through gritted teeth "Is a simpleton. And she" he almost spat the word as he pointed at his daughter "took advantage of that fact"
He turned back to his work. He would gather in this last harvest, sell it in the next village and then they would have to try and sell the farm and move on. He had a cousin in the city who would welcome him but he doubted he would be cut out for city life.
The thought of losing everything made him angrier and he worked harder.
"Daddy please" the girl spoke.
He turned again "Oh!" He exclaimed with mock astonishment "It finally speaks."
"I'm telling the truth, Daddy" Her tone was level now "That boy tried to rape me."
"I know he didn't. That Fletcher girl told me everything, her father made her and I had to listen in front of half the village about your cruel, sadistic little prank."
"She's lying!" She screeched.
"Of course! Everyone's lying except you." He shook his head and turned back to the harvest.
"You've always hated me!" She shouted at him "Even before Arthur"
He stopped, he did not turn but spoke evenly.
"Take her away" he said "I cannot bear to listen to her anymore."
"See, Mama" The girl was confident now "This is what it all boils down to. His precious son. He blames me for what happened to Arthur"
"Now. Before I throttle her"
Theresa said nothing, she was crying.
"I bet you would love to choke the life from me. Go on! Do it now." She leant forward and spoke quietly in his ear "Or you could drown me like I drowned your beloved Arthur."
He froze. She was vindictive enough to say anything so long as it hurt.
But this.
He turned and looked at her. She had retreated to her mothers side.
He saw the look on her face.
The door swung open with the wind as he finally lifted his head from his hands. The eyes still stared at him but not with the wonder of his baby daughter, the love of his little girl or the mocking of his own personal demon but the bewilderment of a child killed by her own father.
He brought himself to his feet and began to look for a rope.
The End
Don't you just love happy endings?
'Gleaming f**king meekly' is now my new favourite expression of surprise and I will be using it as much as possible in everyday conversation