The Unholy Trinity: Full Circle

Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.

Father gripped my arm, his knuckles stretched white from tension, as though I could somehow pull him back from the edge of the abyss.

His face changed then, at the last moment before life ended.

It went from abject terror and pain to wide-eyed wonder, and then serenity as his eyelids slowly closed.

His hand relaxed, slipping off my arm and dropping to his thin chest, now still.

I had to know, what did he see at that final moment that calmed him so? What secrets were revealed?

There’s only one way to find out… I need to kill myself.

Seems a waste of good bourbon to use it as a vessel to deliver the cyanide, but if one is to go out, one should do so in comfort.

The bitter almond smell of the poison blends well within the bourbon, coupled with the aroma of cedar from the logs burning in the fireplace. My eyes grow heavy, whether from warmth and alcohol or the cyanide, I do not know.

And here it is! Everything is pitch black, and I am compressed, squeezed completely by something wet and warm. The pressure is pushing me towards a light of some sort…

Doctor Evans grinned when the rich sound of the baby’s cries filled the delivery room. He stripped off his gloves while his nurse cleaned and swaddled the newborn and took Sherrie’s hand as he spoke.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Wright. You’re the proud mother of a healthy baby boy.”

The nurse brought the infant to Sherrie and she held him as his cries slowed and stopped, his tiny fists clenching and releasing while he explored this strange world he’d just entered.

“Thank you, Doctor… he’s just perfect!”

“He certainly is. Let’s get you back to your room so you can rest now.”