The Eviction

The boy had been asleep curled round upon himself, he was warm and comfortable, floating and serene within his abode, life was good with food on tap so to speak and free inbuilt central heating. Nothing to think about, no worries.

His home was a perfect size for him and he luxuriated within its confines, content within his environment. In fact he was so comfortable that he had not at first noticed the shudder that passed through his living quarters, shaking him gently like a mini tremor.

He became aware of the spasms, they were nothing too harsh or concerning, more like a gentle rocking to him cushioned as he was. Although he did ponder on the difference to his usual perception of normality, as well he might as the spasms not only continued at varying intervals but they soon became more intense and the space between them shorter, monotonous in their regularity but increasing in strength.

With the next spasm came a gentle squeezing sensation, as if his house was trying to evict him and there was no way out. He had never thought it strange that there were no doors or windows, previously he had no need for them although now he was wondering about the omission as the confines of his surroundings became constricting, he felt threatened, his hands curled and uncurled in his agitation and his heart rate increased slightly. What was happening? He did not understand and became panicked about his predicament.

Just as his fear started to crescendo within his mind a flood of calm enveloped him, promoting well-being, a feeling of love flooded over him and his panic dissipated slowly and he dozed for a short period.

When he awoke, he found that he was no longer floating and that the spasms continued relentlessly, the constriction around him feeling almost like a blanket wrapped tightly around him with the exception that it was also pushing him down in an uncomfortable manner which he wished would cease. Again he had his wish and the pressure released for a while giving him respite from his ordeal and time to think in his own limited fashion.

Realising that he could do nothing to help himself he endured the pressure that repeatedly rose and fell, it was his only choice although it didn’t feel like a choice as such but more an inevitability of life.

As the pressure increased again and he turned his head slightly he realised that there was after all an opening within his house that he had never noticed before. Not a traditional door as such but possibly an avenue of escape from the relentless compression upon his body and with the next spasm that occurred, he was forced downwards with a compulsion that he had never felt and with the pressure he broke through the opening, into a canal of some sort. It didn’t look very wide, but instinct told him that he had to attempt to navigate this passageway in order to stand a chance of survival.

His head entered the canal, somehow slightly collapsing as it did so, almost as if it folded, facilitating his passage. Again the feeling abated and he waited silently, aware now that the sensations would continue to their end, certain that his poor head would never look the same again.

Again, the pressure increased, enfolding him in an insistent downward motion, he felt his chest being constricted by the unabating waves and he could feel his lungs compressing and then relief for increasingly short periods of time, time which had no meaning for him anymore.

The tunnel down which he travelled was both confining but also helpful in its undulations as the relentless pressure forced his body ever downwards on its journey to…Where? Where does it lead? he thought during the next respite in his travel. Will I be safe at the end?

In the delivery room Midwife Jamieson was urging her patient to push; “Bear downward as hard as you can with each contraction, I can see the head now, just one more push and the head will be born.”

A faint exhausted laugh came from the soon to be mother, who had been being told similar platitudes for at least an hour and was unsure as to whether to believe this extortion, but she had no choice as the next contraction racked through her body and as promised the head was delivered. The midwife deftly checked the position of the umbilical cord ensuring it wasn’t wrapped around the baby’s neck and that it was safe to push with the next contraction.

The crescendo hit the patient again and she pushed strongly with all her remaining strength, with the midwife gently twisting the baby slightly to facilitate the shoulders emerging and with that final push the child entered the world. He blinked against the bright lights of the delivery room and gave a healthy wail that expanded his lungs for the first real breath of his life.

The hospital believed strongly in bonding, so as soon as the child had been briefly checked he was placed on his mother's chest, the midwife soothing; “Welcome little one”, and to the mother, “You have a healthy baby boy.”

The new mother breathed softly in awe of the small bundle on her chest, its tiny hands star fishing as its owner adjusted to life in a totally new environment, she whispered to her son; “Hello Jonathan, I’m your Mum.”

The voice was one he found that he knew well; while he had been in his home he had heard it faintly, singing and speaking to him melodiously, with love and affection. It made him feel warm all over to hear something that had continued into his new life.

In his last snuffle before he fell asleep all Jonathan knew was that he was skin-to-skin with someone whose smell felt familiar, safe, comfortable and loved.

He never wanted to leave this wonderful person, which was just as well as he could never, ever return to his home.