The Life and Times Of Quil
A series of one-shots about Quil's [AKA the best werewolf ever's] life.
Don't we all love Quil? *sigh* He's amazing...
9. Last Thoughts
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1123 Review this Chapter
My breath came out in ragged breaths, shaking my frail body from head to toe.
“Dad, Lacey and I are going home. We’ll be back tomorrow morning, alright? Love you,” My son, Quil, and his wife patted me on the shoulder and headed out the squeaky doors, leaving Claire and I alone in our hospital beds.
“Well, it was nice of them to stop by, wasn’t it?” Claire said fawningly. “I do hope Emily and Garrison come in tomorrow, they haven’t been in here for weeks now.” She added, speaking of our two other children.
“I love you, Claire-bear,” I whispered to her, reaching out and grasping her hand.
She gave me a squeeze. “I love you too, Quil. If only we had more time together,” She trailed off.
Ah, time. Such a wonderful thing, such a short thing. Since we found out about Claire’s breast cancer, and my own heart attack, we had realized how precious time was.
For however long it was, we sat there, holding on to each other, relishing in our company. After some time, I felt Claire’s grip slacken as she drifted off to sleep. Instead of sleeping, which I already did too much of, I instead thought back. Unlike the usual memories, foggy and half-forgotten, something inside of me triggered my brain to remember with complete clarity a few recollections I hadn’t thought of in years…
Shaking from head to toe, I hopped out of the car, grabbing my dads hand tightly.
“Well, son, this is it. You’re finally becoming a man now. Kindergarten,” He said proudly, leading me through the double doors. Down the hallway, turn left, turn right at the next corner, first door on our right, room 104. Following in my fathers wake, I crept inside, trying to hide in his huge shadow.
“Well, good morning, little sunshine! And how are you today?” The tall woman, who I learned was my teacher, leered down at me in what was supposed to be a friendly fashion.
“G-Good…Daddy, can I g-go home?” I pleaded with my father.
“Now, Quil, you’re a big boy now, you have to go to big boy school. Have a great day, kiddo!” He peeled my hands away, setting me in an orange, plastic chair at the coloring table. I waved miserably to him, tears welling in my eyes.
“Hey,” said a voice to my left. I turned to see a boy who looked awfully like me. “First day?” Once I nodded shakily, he continued. “My names Jacob. I’ve been going here for two weeks now,” I said proudly, puffing his chest up. “I hardly ever cry anymore. But its okay for new kids to cry, don’t worry.”
I took a deep breath. “H-hi Jacob, I’m Quil,” I hiccupped.
“Wanna color with me?” He asked. My interest perked up. Coloring?
“Yeah,” I shouted enthusiastically, grabbing the Mickey Mouse Coloring book. After twenty solid minutes of coloring, the bell rang for snack time.
“Today’s snack is carrots and apple juice! It’s really yummy, Quil, you’ll like it.” Jacob assured me. We got in line with the other six year olds, holding out our grubby hands. Once a baggie and a juice box were placed inside my hands, Jacob and I sped off towards the playground.
After settling ourselves into a corner of the sandbox, I examined my apple juice. The pokey straw in hand, I slowly raised it. Aiming for the tiny hole in the top of the box, I stabbed quickly, slightly spraying myself with juice.
“Ha-ha,” Jacob started laughing, “You’ll get the hang of it, kid, don’t worry.” We fooled around for a bit, until a shadow fell across our spot. I squinted up to see a huge first grader glaring down at me.
“Move it, midget!” An angry voice said from up above.
“Alright, alright, don’t get your sneakers in a knot!” Jacob exclaimed, jumping up and backing away. “That’s Paul; he’s the biggest kid in awl of the second grade.” He whispered into my ear.
“Don’ go sitting in my spot again, you dumb kindergartners!” We retreated back towards the classroom, trying to find a safe spot on the playground.
“Hey, over here!” A soft voice called to us. We looked over at a scrawny kid sitting by himself on the slide. “I’m Embry! And you’re…?” Jake spoke up.
“Jake, and this is Quil,” Embry grinned, revealing two missing teeth.
“Nice to meet you. Wanna be best friends?” I liked this kid. “Yup, sure do! Let’s play tag!” I suggested.
“Quil! Get your butt over here with that oil bucket!” Jacob yelled over the blaring music that blasted in our heaven, Jake’s holy garage.
“Jeez, Jake, hold on! I don’t want to spill it!” I lifted the huge bucket of oil we were putting into the latest project and slowly made it across the garage.
“ Guys, you’ll never believe it!” Embry burst into the crowded space.
“What?” I asked.
“Apparently the ‘cold ones’ are back!” Embry announced.
Jake grimaced. “Yeah, I know. My dad was all upset over it. Whatever,” He turned back to his engine.
“The cold ones? As in, the ones from the stories?” I asked Embry, interested.“Yeah. So there’s the one in charge, his wife…” And he thus launched into a full explanation about the ones our people feared.
A tiny hand rested lightly in mine. Claire’s eager face peeked up at me. “Okay, Quilly. Are you ready?”
I frowned. “Nope,” I answered, looking ahead. The large metal doors loomed darkly, shaking me from head to toe.
“Quil,” Claire started firmly, her large brown eyes staring into mine. “You need to grow up, awright? I’m in kindergarten, so I can’t be draggin’ around a huge best friend, ‘k?”
I sighed. “Alright, Claire. Go ahe- Oh My God! Did you see that kid that went past us? He’s huge. I can’t let you go to the same school as people that could squish you like a big!”Claire shook her head, causing her pigtails to flip around. “Quil, you need to let go. See you after school!” She hugged me around my waist, seeing as that was where her head was, and then bounded up the steps and inside the huge building.
And with those peaceful memories in my head, I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of six year old Claire, laughing and giggling and hugging…
Beeeeeep. Claire awoke with a start. She glanced over to the still form beside her, and instead of screaming or crying out in anguish, like they do in the movies, she smiled sadly and grasped the cold hand, allowing one lone tear, crystalline and perfect, to make its way down her withered cheek.
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