SIX GEESE A’LAYING<\/p>\n
by Harper Kingsley<\/p>\n
There were times when Darkstar really cursed the obsessions of other people.<\/p>\n
"Seriously, what is this bullshit?"<\/p>\n
"It’s the sixth day of Christmas," Saul said. "Someone’s sent you six geese. Likely the same someone that send you five gold rings, four colly birds–those are blackbirds by the way–three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge unfortunately tied to a pear tree.<\/p>\n
"Wow," Darkstar said. "Just a really big wow."<\/p>\n
He left the secretary to figure out what to do with all the poultry and returned to his bedroom. He’d woken and dressed as usual, but he saw nothing wrong with changing back into pajamas and climbing into bed.<\/p>\n
He wasn’t ready to deal with the day, so he wouldn’t.<\/p>\n
He curled up on the big bed and stared at nothing.<\/p>\n
He remembered the Christmases of his childhood, before things had gotten so dark. He knew<\/em> he had loved his parents, though his mom had broken his memory.<\/p>\n He’d had years to face the damage Sandra had done to his mind. Sandra had cracked him open so thoroughly that he hadn’t even realized she’d done it.<\/p>\n He’d loved her with a, in retrospect, disgusting level of fervor.<\/p>\n Like all the Darksters so desperate to kiss his ass, he’d loved his Mommy<\/em>.<\/p>\n And he’d hated his father for letting her be locked up. Had blamed Patrick with a solid surety that still left him resenting the man.<\/p>\n He knew Patrick had done the right thing. Knew that Patrick loved him.<\/p>\n But the hatred had destroyed the connections between them. To the point that now, even knowing better, he still existed in the echo of that hatred. He could not force himself to apologize, to try and get along again. Because there were no amends to mend–just a gaping nothing where there had once been a father and child.<\/p>\n He couldn’t blame his mom for what she’d done. He was bitter for what they’d all lost, but he couldn’t blame her<\/em>.<\/p>\n He blamed those men that had broken into the house of his childhood. He blamed them for the hurt they’d dealt his mother and father. He blamed them for the hurt he didn’t remember but that they’d done to him.<\/p>\n His mother had used her powers on them all, and he couldn’t blame her for doing it. Because those men<\/em> had been doing terrible things to her family. And she’d lashed out.<\/p>\n And people had gotten hurt.<\/p>\n And Vereint had never blamed her, so Darkstar couldn’t blame her now.<\/p>\n Because she had loved him, and he’d loved her. And those men had deserved it.<\/p>\n Just as she’d deserved to be locked away afterward.<\/p>\n Because she’d lost control, then never been able to refind it. And she was dangerous, and flighty, and everyone had had a reason to fear her.<\/p>\n He’d grown up and his body had developed its own protections to psionic abilities. The chains of her power had fallen away from him and he’d been free to face the world as it was.<\/p>\n He remembered the feel of the chains and the way they hadn’t felt bad at all. Had seemed comforting for some of the time, and had ached with a longing for her during the rest.<\/p>\n He’d missed his mother for most of his life.<\/p>\n He couldn’t help understanding the obsession of the Darksters. Even as he cursed the inconvenience of it all.<\/p>\n "’Six geese a’laying,’" he muttered, rolling on his back and closing his eyes. "Ridiculous."<\/p>\n =END=<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"