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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 06/21/2015
Abandoned in Abyss
Born 1991, F, from Pretoria, Gauteng, South Africa![Abandoned in Abyss](/storage/story/1434974804img041-image(416x154-crop).jpg)
Death stood watching Parvathi. She had an undeniable fear of people in general. Their glazed eyes remained locked on her as she reached for a domestic magazine in the waiting lounge. I think my baby wants to leave me, just like my husband did.
Parvathi could not shake the fear that a woman sat across from her with yellowed, decayed teeth and a snare that could end a babe’s yearning cry. The thing inside of her was not a blessing but a disease that would always haunt her physical and mental state. She needed an abortion and in haste. Her belly was about to burst with this nightmarish hell brought upon her precious and fragile body.
There were times like this when she needed her husband who had abandoned her to offer his services in war rather than child bearing. He had chosen the militant life of machine guns, grenades and warfare over the babe that was nurtured in Parvathi’s oversized gut. She had once contemplated removing the babe with a cleaver from her oversized belly. Alas, she had not the heart to carry out such a cunning deed. Life is a blessing no matter the pain that accompanies it.
The decayed woman, who sat across, stared at Parvathi with eyes filled with death and hate. Who was this undesirable and haggard woman? The woman looked maleficent and terrifying. She stared at Parvathi over an outdated newspaper from the 1920’s. No one in the patients’ lounge seemed to notice the ragged woman staring over an upturned and obsolete newspaper.
“The doctor is ready to attend to you Mrs. Morgan,” said the youthful, blonde nurse at the desk. Parvathi was irritated with her last name and wished to scream at the blonde bimbo to inform her that Mr Morgan had chosen a life of warfare over his own family and that she no longer wished to be associated with that last name, Morgan. She no longer had any need for that grotesque name. Anything associated with her lousy husband was considered a ruthless curse upon her very entity. There was no need to be associated with a white devil.
She stood like a brave lotus warrior and glided across the room, past the decayed woman with a halo of flies above her head. The doctor was an extremely handsome man who reminded her of one of the sailors she had slept with during fleet week. Parvathi was immediately distracted by the doctor’s exceptional looks. She remained enchanted with his perfectly permed hair with blonde streaks glistening once the light fell upon it. He shook her dainty hand like a knight grasping a beautiful maiden. He could remove this burden and place within her a much worthier seed.
The doctor’s careful fragile surgeon hands swept up her flowered blouse to reveal a heavy transparent gut. He carefully examined her while she waited for the much desired news. Her breath instantly quickened and she grew impatient although she enjoyed the attention she received from a desirable suitor she was unable to clutch during her youthful years while she remained a foolish naïve twenty year old.
The knightly doctor examined her only to reveal that there had been no foetus. Her enlarged breasts and preconceived sensation of foetal movement was due to a trigger most women encountered, a hysterical pregnancy.
II
The news was devastating, yet she felt relieved at the same time. She did not need an infant at any moment. Her barren body could remain empty for an eternity. She herself remained in a state of infancy. She was unprepared to have a babe of her own. Clearly she had been in over her head to expect a state of uninterrupted bliss. The goal of receiving a child had been disturbed and thrown into the deep, along with her hopes of becoming a well- renowned surgeon. Her husband shared the same dreams but, at the same time, desired a minuscule boy.
Mr. Morgan wanted a boy to dress up like a doll. He desired a companion to fly kites with as well as play with trinkets such as model cars and trains. He desired a boy who mastered the art of baseball and learnt about the history of warfare. Parvathi could provide none of these requests. Her husband in turn despised her for being barren as well as her adopting a negative disposition towards children in general.
III
Dave Morgan appeared to her as a blonde- haired angel in civil war clothing, scrawny as a stick with emeralds for eyes and as timid as a shy girl. He immediately found her appealing in her bright pink sari speckled with glittering sequins. They had met in the overwhelming heated India, plagued by flies swarming around their heads.
They had married in the summer of 1955. The weather was cool, filled with a cinnamon taste in the air. They were young and naïve and decided that they were old enough to get hitched. The weather was perfect for their wedding with no trace of a single cloud in the sky. Mrs Millbury baked the sweetest pastries next door that resulted in a cloud of cinnamon and sugar engulfing the nearest customers’ nostrils.
She fell in love with him for that momentarily glance and then it immediately faded. Those mesmerising emerald eyes were rather sinister-filled with an emptiness that intoxicated the senses. When they had married and done the dirty deed, she remained a blushing bride. She bled on the white lacy sheets to signify her womanhood.
IV
It had only been six months and the marriage decayed like rotting meat with a stench so pungent that travelled like a restless nomad. Parvathi clung onto the failed marriage like cling wrap covering a double decker mouldy sandwich.
Matters took a turn for the worst for beloved and doting wife, Parvathi when she caught Dave in a futile act of love-making with a glutinous red-haired woman. Their arms and legs splashed across their white lacy bed; both huffing and puffing as if they had just ran a marathon. “It’s over,” were Parvathi’s final words to her blonde-haired militant angel. She slammed shut that blood-red door to her daunting and murderous past.
Sadly, on their so called anniversary, she received a telegram that Dave Morgan had died for his country. A lying, philandering man had been considered a war hero and yet to the world, she was just a plain ornamental housewife. Her sole purpose was to keep a man’s bed warm and to cook and clean like a non-stop UNIVAC machine.
V
She left the waiting room like a chameleon. No one had noticed her except for the strange old gyrating gypsy woman with a set of broken decayed teeth in her hand. She snared “do you want some, my dear?”
Parvathi was perplexed, “what would I do with decayed teeth madam?” Her white ghoul skin reflected with lifelessness.
“My dear, you are to place the set of three under your pillow and make a wish,” hissed the devilish gypsy with a grin.
Before Parvathi could respond, she found herself with a fistful of yellow canary teeth and no gyrating gypsy in sight.
VI
One cold starless night, Parvathi placed the teeth beneath her pillow and lay awake with much restlessness. She had not the faintest idea what she had hoped to accomplish. Fate had led her to a senile old woman with decayed teeth in her decomposing hand.
That night she dreamed of possessing a baby. She needed something joyous in her life.
VII
Sun streaks had entered through her glass stained window to reveal a new day. Muffled cries came from under her billowy pillow. Shocked and fearful, Parvathi awoke to find a babe beneath her pillow.
It was an odd-looking child with deep yellow- urine coloured eyes and a childish grin with flaming red hair. He looked at her with expectant yearning eyes, waiting to be nursed as all new born babies would expect from a first-time mother.
Parvathi feared him. She hastily ran out the door with only a flimsy white transparent robe on with mountainous bare breasts on display.
Miss Amy Saunders had been a recluse living next door to her. Parvathi had greeted her once in the apartment elevator with an expectant return greeting. Amy, however, had been too overwhelmed with this faint interaction and had resulted in her gasping for air. With the onset of a panic attack, Parvathi had since avoided Amy Saunders.
VIII
Amy’s cyanotic crystal eyes grew wide with anticipation and fear of what had awaited her on the other side of her crimson –coloured, murderous door. Heavy knocks almost penetrated her door. She had to answer this time. She slowly crept to the door like a timid rodent about to be devoured by a slithering and conniving serpent.
IX
Not waiting for a response, Parvathi hysterically pulled Amy by her bony arm. “You have to come see this!”
Amy found herself in Parvathi’s lonely apartment, an unfamiliar place. She felt like an alien invading a foreign planet. “Amy, I heard cries from under my pillow; there’s a baby and I don’t know where it came from!”
Amy, ignoring Parvathi’s cries of fear carefully crept to the Indian-patterned bed and slowly lifted up the perfectly purple patterned pillow.
X
A doll with deep yellow-urine coloured eyes and fiery enflamed red hair stared motionless at Amy Saunders. Dead silence filled the air and Parvathi let out a silenced scream. The baby laid gurgling and staring at her. “Do you see it Amy?” she said.
Miss Saunders stared at Parvathi out of disbelief. “Mrs. Morgan, I see a doll and nothing more.” Parvathi stared at her with a crazed look upon her face. Amy hastily left the room out of fear that Parvathi might attack her.
XI
Parvathi snatched the foreign baby in her arms and hastily walked to the handsome doctor’s practice.
A massively grotesque woman sat at the reception desk. “I need to see Dr Shultz immediately!” exclaimed Parvathi with the baby searching for a much desired teat. “Calm down and take a seat Madam, the doctor will be with you in a moment.” The woman stared stonily at her through thick spectacles.
Parvathi sat in the same waiting lounge with a crying baby in her arms yet no one seemed to notice the wailing. She could sense a pair of despicable eyes in the corner staring at her and the wailing burdensome baby. She hastily looked in that direction but could not spot a soul. It was a Sunday and there was hardly anyone in the waiting area.
“Mrs. Morgan” called Doctor Shultz. He stood mesmerised by her and the babe. Parvathi slowly crept into his office.
XII
“What can I do for you Mrs. Morgan?” asked doctor Shultz formally. Parvathi stared at him perplexed. “Doctor, can you not see what I behold in my arms? How is it possible when I was here yesterday as barren as the Sahara desert?”
Doctor Shultz grinned revealing a set of perfect pearls.
“Mrs. Morgan, it is indeed a beautiful doll, my sister, Sarah is a collector herself.”
“Doctor, this is a pressing matter not to be taken lightly. For the life of me, he cannot halt crying.”
Doctor Shultz’s eyes narrowed and his forehead began to crinkle.
“Who is he that cannot stop crying?”
Before Parvathi could open her mouth, the doctor continued.
“Mrs. Morgan, yesterday you were in such a hurry that you had forgotten to take your prescription for your regular refill of antidepressants. Your condition is extremely serious and I suggest you do not take that lightly.”
Parvathi, soon realising how futile the visit had been, stormed out of the handsome Shultz’s office accompanied by the worrisome, wailing baby.
XIII
That night, Parvathi dreamed a terrible dream. She lay in a cold clinical ward, giving birth to something unknown. Dave stood nearby in blood-spattered military uniform with an arm missing. “Don’t worry about me sweetheart, I’ll be just dandy,” he said with a toothless grin.
“Push!” screamed the nurse in a blood curdling voice. Parvathi pushed in agony; she had not experienced such excruciating pain since Dave had left her for another priority, the war. Blood issued from her swollen womanhood.
“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” cried the nurse whose face closely resembled that of the gyrating gypsy.
Parvathi inspected the crimson covered bundle in the gypsy’s decayed arms. It was not a babe at all, but a nonsensical doll with deep yellow-urine coloured eyes and red-fiery hair. It let out no wail. Dead silence filled the air.
XIV
Parvathi awoke in a sweat, the doll sat motionless next to her propped up on the bed. It stared at her eerily through lifeless eyes. Parvathi grew furious, pulled on her sheer transparent robe and walked on the cold, dirty street with bare barren feet like an old crazed woman whose sense of purpose had been taken from her.
She threw the dead doll on a heap of rubbish in a filthy sex-stained alleyway. “Good riddance” uttered Parvathi. With the deed done, she retreated to her warm bed with a new found sense of peacefulness.
XV
“Good morning America, last night there was a tragedy as a new born baby was found dead, disposed in a rubbish bin. The mother has been identified as Parvathi Morgan, an Indian woman originally from India in her late 40s who has been taken into custody. Strangely enough the DNA report suggests that there is no biological connection between mother and child. Police officials believe the suspect to have kidnapped the baby from Fairview State Hospital.”
XVI
Parvathi removed the miniscule breadknife hidden in her cuff from which she had taken from her kitchen before being arrested for a crime she did not commit. It was a doll, she had been sure of it.
“God, what have I done?” she whispered behind the paint peeled bars of concealment. Dave left her and now God had abandoned her. She had nothing left to live for. She took the breadknife hesitantly and slowly began working at her wrists. The blood flowed slowly at first and then would not stop.
The prison cell blurred as she sat in a pool of crimson ooze. Life began leaving her in a haze. A life she had lived for another; a life she had barely appreciated.
Abandoned in Abyss(Sasheera)
Death stood watching Parvathi. She had an undeniable fear of people in general. Their glazed eyes remained locked on her as she reached for a domestic magazine in the waiting lounge. I think my baby wants to leave me, just like my husband did.
Parvathi could not shake the fear that a woman sat across from her with yellowed, decayed teeth and a snare that could end a babe’s yearning cry. The thing inside of her was not a blessing but a disease that would always haunt her physical and mental state. She needed an abortion and in haste. Her belly was about to burst with this nightmarish hell brought upon her precious and fragile body.
There were times like this when she needed her husband who had abandoned her to offer his services in war rather than child bearing. He had chosen the militant life of machine guns, grenades and warfare over the babe that was nurtured in Parvathi’s oversized gut. She had once contemplated removing the babe with a cleaver from her oversized belly. Alas, she had not the heart to carry out such a cunning deed. Life is a blessing no matter the pain that accompanies it.
The decayed woman, who sat across, stared at Parvathi with eyes filled with death and hate. Who was this undesirable and haggard woman? The woman looked maleficent and terrifying. She stared at Parvathi over an outdated newspaper from the 1920’s. No one in the patients’ lounge seemed to notice the ragged woman staring over an upturned and obsolete newspaper.
“The doctor is ready to attend to you Mrs. Morgan,” said the youthful, blonde nurse at the desk. Parvathi was irritated with her last name and wished to scream at the blonde bimbo to inform her that Mr Morgan had chosen a life of warfare over his own family and that she no longer wished to be associated with that last name, Morgan. She no longer had any need for that grotesque name. Anything associated with her lousy husband was considered a ruthless curse upon her very entity. There was no need to be associated with a white devil.
She stood like a brave lotus warrior and glided across the room, past the decayed woman with a halo of flies above her head. The doctor was an extremely handsome man who reminded her of one of the sailors she had slept with during fleet week. Parvathi was immediately distracted by the doctor’s exceptional looks. She remained enchanted with his perfectly permed hair with blonde streaks glistening once the light fell upon it. He shook her dainty hand like a knight grasping a beautiful maiden. He could remove this burden and place within her a much worthier seed.
The doctor’s careful fragile surgeon hands swept up her flowered blouse to reveal a heavy transparent gut. He carefully examined her while she waited for the much desired news. Her breath instantly quickened and she grew impatient although she enjoyed the attention she received from a desirable suitor she was unable to clutch during her youthful years while she remained a foolish naïve twenty year old.
The knightly doctor examined her only to reveal that there had been no foetus. Her enlarged breasts and preconceived sensation of foetal movement was due to a trigger most women encountered, a hysterical pregnancy.
II
The news was devastating, yet she felt relieved at the same time. She did not need an infant at any moment. Her barren body could remain empty for an eternity. She herself remained in a state of infancy. She was unprepared to have a babe of her own. Clearly she had been in over her head to expect a state of uninterrupted bliss. The goal of receiving a child had been disturbed and thrown into the deep, along with her hopes of becoming a well- renowned surgeon. Her husband shared the same dreams but, at the same time, desired a minuscule boy.
Mr. Morgan wanted a boy to dress up like a doll. He desired a companion to fly kites with as well as play with trinkets such as model cars and trains. He desired a boy who mastered the art of baseball and learnt about the history of warfare. Parvathi could provide none of these requests. Her husband in turn despised her for being barren as well as her adopting a negative disposition towards children in general.
III
Dave Morgan appeared to her as a blonde- haired angel in civil war clothing, scrawny as a stick with emeralds for eyes and as timid as a shy girl. He immediately found her appealing in her bright pink sari speckled with glittering sequins. They had met in the overwhelming heated India, plagued by flies swarming around their heads.
They had married in the summer of 1955. The weather was cool, filled with a cinnamon taste in the air. They were young and naïve and decided that they were old enough to get hitched. The weather was perfect for their wedding with no trace of a single cloud in the sky. Mrs Millbury baked the sweetest pastries next door that resulted in a cloud of cinnamon and sugar engulfing the nearest customers’ nostrils.
She fell in love with him for that momentarily glance and then it immediately faded. Those mesmerising emerald eyes were rather sinister-filled with an emptiness that intoxicated the senses. When they had married and done the dirty deed, she remained a blushing bride. She bled on the white lacy sheets to signify her womanhood.
IV
It had only been six months and the marriage decayed like rotting meat with a stench so pungent that travelled like a restless nomad. Parvathi clung onto the failed marriage like cling wrap covering a double decker mouldy sandwich.
Matters took a turn for the worst for beloved and doting wife, Parvathi when she caught Dave in a futile act of love-making with a glutinous red-haired woman. Their arms and legs splashed across their white lacy bed; both huffing and puffing as if they had just ran a marathon. “It’s over,” were Parvathi’s final words to her blonde-haired militant angel. She slammed shut that blood-red door to her daunting and murderous past.
Sadly, on their so called anniversary, she received a telegram that Dave Morgan had died for his country. A lying, philandering man had been considered a war hero and yet to the world, she was just a plain ornamental housewife. Her sole purpose was to keep a man’s bed warm and to cook and clean like a non-stop UNIVAC machine.
V
She left the waiting room like a chameleon. No one had noticed her except for the strange old gyrating gypsy woman with a set of broken decayed teeth in her hand. She snared “do you want some, my dear?”
Parvathi was perplexed, “what would I do with decayed teeth madam?” Her white ghoul skin reflected with lifelessness.
“My dear, you are to place the set of three under your pillow and make a wish,” hissed the devilish gypsy with a grin.
Before Parvathi could respond, she found herself with a fistful of yellow canary teeth and no gyrating gypsy in sight.
VI
One cold starless night, Parvathi placed the teeth beneath her pillow and lay awake with much restlessness. She had not the faintest idea what she had hoped to accomplish. Fate had led her to a senile old woman with decayed teeth in her decomposing hand.
That night she dreamed of possessing a baby. She needed something joyous in her life.
VII
Sun streaks had entered through her glass stained window to reveal a new day. Muffled cries came from under her billowy pillow. Shocked and fearful, Parvathi awoke to find a babe beneath her pillow.
It was an odd-looking child with deep yellow- urine coloured eyes and a childish grin with flaming red hair. He looked at her with expectant yearning eyes, waiting to be nursed as all new born babies would expect from a first-time mother.
Parvathi feared him. She hastily ran out the door with only a flimsy white transparent robe on with mountainous bare breasts on display.
Miss Amy Saunders had been a recluse living next door to her. Parvathi had greeted her once in the apartment elevator with an expectant return greeting. Amy, however, had been too overwhelmed with this faint interaction and had resulted in her gasping for air. With the onset of a panic attack, Parvathi had since avoided Amy Saunders.
VIII
Amy’s cyanotic crystal eyes grew wide with anticipation and fear of what had awaited her on the other side of her crimson –coloured, murderous door. Heavy knocks almost penetrated her door. She had to answer this time. She slowly crept to the door like a timid rodent about to be devoured by a slithering and conniving serpent.
IX
Not waiting for a response, Parvathi hysterically pulled Amy by her bony arm. “You have to come see this!”
Amy found herself in Parvathi’s lonely apartment, an unfamiliar place. She felt like an alien invading a foreign planet. “Amy, I heard cries from under my pillow; there’s a baby and I don’t know where it came from!”
Amy, ignoring Parvathi’s cries of fear carefully crept to the Indian-patterned bed and slowly lifted up the perfectly purple patterned pillow.
X
A doll with deep yellow-urine coloured eyes and fiery enflamed red hair stared motionless at Amy Saunders. Dead silence filled the air and Parvathi let out a silenced scream. The baby laid gurgling and staring at her. “Do you see it Amy?” she said.
Miss Saunders stared at Parvathi out of disbelief. “Mrs. Morgan, I see a doll and nothing more.” Parvathi stared at her with a crazed look upon her face. Amy hastily left the room out of fear that Parvathi might attack her.
XI
Parvathi snatched the foreign baby in her arms and hastily walked to the handsome doctor’s practice.
A massively grotesque woman sat at the reception desk. “I need to see Dr Shultz immediately!” exclaimed Parvathi with the baby searching for a much desired teat. “Calm down and take a seat Madam, the doctor will be with you in a moment.” The woman stared stonily at her through thick spectacles.
Parvathi sat in the same waiting lounge with a crying baby in her arms yet no one seemed to notice the wailing. She could sense a pair of despicable eyes in the corner staring at her and the wailing burdensome baby. She hastily looked in that direction but could not spot a soul. It was a Sunday and there was hardly anyone in the waiting area.
“Mrs. Morgan” called Doctor Shultz. He stood mesmerised by her and the babe. Parvathi slowly crept into his office.
XII
“What can I do for you Mrs. Morgan?” asked doctor Shultz formally. Parvathi stared at him perplexed. “Doctor, can you not see what I behold in my arms? How is it possible when I was here yesterday as barren as the Sahara desert?”
Doctor Shultz grinned revealing a set of perfect pearls.
“Mrs. Morgan, it is indeed a beautiful doll, my sister, Sarah is a collector herself.”
“Doctor, this is a pressing matter not to be taken lightly. For the life of me, he cannot halt crying.”
Doctor Shultz’s eyes narrowed and his forehead began to crinkle.
“Who is he that cannot stop crying?”
Before Parvathi could open her mouth, the doctor continued.
“Mrs. Morgan, yesterday you were in such a hurry that you had forgotten to take your prescription for your regular refill of antidepressants. Your condition is extremely serious and I suggest you do not take that lightly.”
Parvathi, soon realising how futile the visit had been, stormed out of the handsome Shultz’s office accompanied by the worrisome, wailing baby.
XIII
That night, Parvathi dreamed a terrible dream. She lay in a cold clinical ward, giving birth to something unknown. Dave stood nearby in blood-spattered military uniform with an arm missing. “Don’t worry about me sweetheart, I’ll be just dandy,” he said with a toothless grin.
“Push!” screamed the nurse in a blood curdling voice. Parvathi pushed in agony; she had not experienced such excruciating pain since Dave had left her for another priority, the war. Blood issued from her swollen womanhood.
“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” cried the nurse whose face closely resembled that of the gyrating gypsy.
Parvathi inspected the crimson covered bundle in the gypsy’s decayed arms. It was not a babe at all, but a nonsensical doll with deep yellow-urine coloured eyes and red-fiery hair. It let out no wail. Dead silence filled the air.
XIV
Parvathi awoke in a sweat, the doll sat motionless next to her propped up on the bed. It stared at her eerily through lifeless eyes. Parvathi grew furious, pulled on her sheer transparent robe and walked on the cold, dirty street with bare barren feet like an old crazed woman whose sense of purpose had been taken from her.
She threw the dead doll on a heap of rubbish in a filthy sex-stained alleyway. “Good riddance” uttered Parvathi. With the deed done, she retreated to her warm bed with a new found sense of peacefulness.
XV
“Good morning America, last night there was a tragedy as a new born baby was found dead, disposed in a rubbish bin. The mother has been identified as Parvathi Morgan, an Indian woman originally from India in her late 40s who has been taken into custody. Strangely enough the DNA report suggests that there is no biological connection between mother and child. Police officials believe the suspect to have kidnapped the baby from Fairview State Hospital.”
XVI
Parvathi removed the miniscule breadknife hidden in her cuff from which she had taken from her kitchen before being arrested for a crime she did not commit. It was a doll, she had been sure of it.
“God, what have I done?” she whispered behind the paint peeled bars of concealment. Dave left her and now God had abandoned her. She had nothing left to live for. She took the breadknife hesitantly and slowly began working at her wrists. The blood flowed slowly at first and then would not stop.
The prison cell blurred as she sat in a pool of crimson ooze. Life began leaving her in a haze. A life she had lived for another; a life she had barely appreciated.
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