A Cry Ignored

[Nick Silverpen]

The sun shines through the four paneled window, its pale winter light bright on the bleak walls. A white fan hangs from the ceiling, blending in as it is unmoving above. Below the white trim, a dark pinkish rug runs under the rocking chair that is as lively as the fan. A hand crafted wooden dresser rests against the wall next to the door, while across the room lies an infant sleeping in its crib. All is noiseless as the child’s rest is preserved, the world outside the window and door seemingly disconnected from this room.

 

The child itself lies under a white and blue stitched blanket, its wool enough to keep the child warm in the temperature-less room. Its fingers grasp tightly around the blanket, clutching it close; one thumb is firmly being sucked on while it curls up, retreating into itself. Under a head of thin hair, while its flushed face crinkles, its eyelids remain closed, its mind dreaming while the body adjusts to life outside the womb.

 

Eyes still closed, it dreams on, until a yowl comes from somewhere deep in its young throat. Mouth opening in a half yawn, it emits a short, almost frightening cry. Awake now, the infant scoots itself over until it can grab the bars of the crib, and utters the sound again. Something is desired, and by doing this, the child knew it would be nurtured. It reached out with its voice now, seeking that sustenance. There it sat, mouth and eyes opening and closing, almost hopeful to see something in that painful bright blur that reached its pupils.

 

But the cry was not being answered. As the child’s lament for its mother drawled on, it grew to where a gurgling sob echoed through the room. The babe eventually realized its mother was not coming, and it intensified its plea, as it wanted her, and no longer the nurture; simply her presence would be enough. What had it done, in its innocence, to deserve her ignorance? Grasping the bars tightly, it screamed through the crib, pleading for her arrival.

 

The effort was in vain, however, as its fragile little form felt the despair. The cry carried on, a sad tune playing in the lonely room, looping on and on; all the babe wanted was some understanding, some comfort. As a hot tear escaped its eye, it did not question why the mother would not attend to it, as if it were excessively due to a fault in the child. It cried out of need, out of desperation.

 

The cries echoing back into the infants ears finally overwhelmed it, and a powerful weary began to consume the child. Little fingers grew limp in the bars, the child crumpling upon its blanket, now only sniveling. And its snivels grew quiet, ignored just like its cries, as the newborn slipped into the darkness of the dreams it had awoken from.

[Dual Cee]

Fairly good story, I loved the description of the room and the usage of rather odd/rarely used words. The story was very emotional and the verb tense in present really helped amplifying that. I'd just wan't to state that the way the baby thinks is a little odd for a new-born, but who knows actual the truth about that The way you made the baby cry for its mother and then start to dispair was very well done, letting it grab the bars more tightly along the story was a smart decision, you did a good job in implenting emotions in it. Now that said, lets get to the (not much really) nitpicking:

A white fan hangs from the ceiling, blending in as it is unmoving above.

This sentence sounds very odd, maybe the usage of the verb unmoving(is that even a verb) in combination with the above. Because you already said it was hanging on the roof you don't have to repeat it in the same sentence saying it was "above". I'd replace this sentence if I were you with something like this: "A white fan hangs from the ceiling, blending as it was not moving (anymore)"

The babe eventually realized

You know Babe is supposed to be Baby right?

The cries echoing back into the infants ears finally overwhelmed it, and a powerful weary began to consume the child. Little fingers grew limp in the bars, the child crumpling upon its blanket, now only sniveling. And its snivels grew quiet, ignored just like its cries, as the newborn slipped into the darkness of the dreams it had awoken from.

This part was one of the best, only one thing that is noticable is that you suddenly switched from present to past, I could possibly see this as a stylistic decision but leaving it fully into the present would sound better IMO. Since changing to the past detaches the reader from the emotions of the Baby.---Ok pretty good story, a little short but thats fine for this kind of stories, the style you wrote this in was pretty consistent, only the change from prensent to past was odd. Other from that and the Baby/Babe thing there were little to no faults, some sentences sounded odd, but that is just my opinion and I didn't saw a way to avoid it without ruining the consistency. So good job and keep up the good work.Also one emoticon can say more than a thousand words, my emotion during the reading of this: ;( Edited April 25, 2013 by Dual Matrix