These Old Tales
Volume One
By
Kenneth W. Cain
Other Titles by Kenneth W. Cain
Novels:
These Trespasses: Book 1 of the Saga of I
Grave Revelations: Book 2 of the Saga of I
Collections:
These Old Tales – Volume Three
These Old Tales – The Complete Collection
Short Stories:
“In The Shadow Of The Equine” – Torn Realities
“Warmth Within Thy Depths” - Dark Doorways
“Old Zombie, New Tricks” - Dead Souls
“Warmth Within Thy Depths” – Isolation
Children’s Books:
Copyright © 2011 by Kenneth W. Cain
Front Cover Art by Philip R. Rogers
All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
For my mother and father, who have always believed in me.
Kenneth W. Cain
January 2012
There is a specific satisfaction one experiences when holding a human heart in their hands. It gives off heat, a life transcending between you and your victim. It can be exhilarating.
Of course, the urge is always to squeeze. Press hard. Force the death. Steal the life from them. Yet, I suppose it would never serve my purpose should I kill this child.
Her eyes are still, but in a small slit between the lids, I can see the cool dark pools beneath as they slowly dry to the air of the room, whatever tears having formed there now fading. They have placed their trust in me, but as her parents watch all I can think of is squeezing, like an anaconda upon its prey. Squeeze!
It is a mystery why I should come across such power. Who made me God? Yet, I am but a pawn to these needs, the primal forces at play even now as I am supposed to stroke life back into a dying corpse. Like Doctor Frankenstein, I am to ignite life into this body, as if my hands were but bolts of lightning.
Should I fail I am aware her father might resist this conclusion. He might seek legal counsel or even visit me at my domicile, wanting to smite my life from this Earth. It is not my place to question these consequences. I follow only that which is given to me by some higher power; one I do not and cannot control.
Somewhere beneath those breathing lids, she sees my pain, my quandary. She knows the decision I make now is not an easy one. As she looks into my soul she begs for strength, for the ability for me to avoid these vices. She wants to live.
I feel her heart writhe in my fingers, as I give it life once more. As my team watches, her parents pressed against the glass wall of the cage above, I bring her back from the depths of hell. I am applauded for my work, although I know how absent this emotion really is. No one is ever truly saved in this world.
Aaron thought it ironic she should be born of this earth, and now be laid to rest within it. Truly, it was as if she were going home. This made him feel a little better about her untimely death.
He stood above her corpse, placed with care into the large hole, and felt the need to say something, anything. Instead, he said nothing—only stared down into the hole, observing the dead creation. If he had been a moment faster, he might have saved her from this tragedy.
Turning away from the grave, there was an eerie thought she might come back to life right then, decide this was his fault, use him. It wasn’t his transgression, though. She would see this soon enough.
Aaron reached deep into the burlap sack, producing the body of a young boy. He carried this smaller corpse to the hole, and threw him down on top of her. The boy’s body struck her in the chest, his limp limbs springing to sudden life, as if frightened by the mere sight of her. Of course, it had been a similar reaction having caused the boy to act as he did in the first place, leading to first her death, and then his. Aaron guessed this end was somewhat deserving for his reaction alone.