A Story - First Chapter

I don’t have much to say right now so I thought I’d share with you the first chapter of a story I began a couple of years ago. Maybe I’ll finish it someday. I don’t know. I got stuck and couldn’t figure out where to go with it after a time. I don’t even have a name for it. Grammar pros beware. I never edited it and don’t really feel like doing so now. :)

“Mendel jerked violently upon her bed. She did not sit up right away but instead surveyed the room around her with one open eye. Her ears strained to hear more of the sound that had woken her. This time when she heard the noise, she did sit up. She paused only a moment before throwing the covers off of her and shuffling to the door where her cream colored shawl hung on its hook. She didn’t bother to slip her stockings on or light a candle after she was properly covered. Instead she quietly opened the door and slipped into the hallway, taking quick but careful steps over the wooden floor. Another sound drifted toward her ears and her steps quickened. She descended the short creaking stairs, and as she took the last step into the entry room she saw the faint glow of a candle emanating from the wash room. The door being slightly ajar, Mendel peeked in, not entirely surprised at what she saw.
Her mothers head was leaning against the wall directly behind the wash basin. There were wisps of hair, wet and sticky, clinging to her cheek which was flushed pink. Her eyes were closed, but not in a peaceful manner. Her breath was ragged and she began to squirm as the next pain came. She tightened her grip on the rim of the basin;her knuckles usually hidden beneath a layer of plump skin, becoming visible. A low groan welled up inside of her, increasing in intensity with the pain and culminating in a sharp sort of yell. Then it seemed to pass and she was left gasping for breath.
A flowing gray skirt swept in front of the door, blocking Mendel’s view momentarily. It made a light swishing sound as it brushed across the floor toward the wash basin. The woman in the gray skirt, the Mystic, Juin, knelt down beside the birthing woman and placed a damp rag on her forehead. At that moment Juin looked up and her eyes met Mendel’s. Mendel scurried away and sat herself on the guest chair in the entry room, wondering if Juin would be angry she had been peeking. She chewed thoughtfully on her thumbnail for a moment, wondering if she ought to go back to bed or wait. It might be a long while yet.
A sound tickled her ear then, and she made her way past the wash room into the kitchen where she saw a figure pacing in the dark. Her father. She whispered his name and he stopped, extending an arm to her that was just visible in the dim moonlight that pierced the window curtain. She felt herself enter his embrace and was immediately soothed. She had never seen even a small part of a birthing before and the site of her strong mother sweating and panting in the wash basin had affected her some. She hadn’t known until her father held her, just how frightened she was. He released her then and guided her back into the entry room where they sat down on the bench together, listening and waiting.
Mendel heard the shuffling of Juin’s feet on the floor boards in the wash room. She heard more of her mothers groans and pants and sharp cries. She heard the sounds of water sloshing around in the basin and the thump of her mothers head each time she let it fall against the wall after she had finished with a pain. She heard indistinguishable words of comfort and instruction issued in Juin’s gentle voice. She saw over and over in her mind her mother’s hand gripping the wash basin, flecked with droplets of water. She saw over and over again her mothers pink face creased with pain.
Mendel did not know how much time had passed. The sky was still dark after what seemed to be many hours. Her father had been breathing deeply for some time now so she stood, being careful not to wake him. All had been silent for a few moments so she decided to peek through the cracked door of the wash room again. She was unprepared for the sight that greeted her. Her mother was now squatting in the basin and her arms were trembling under the weight of supporting her body. Her heaving breast was exposed to Mendel’s view. Mendel shrank from the sight and scurried back into the entry room. None to soon, for as she sat back on the bench a great cry irrupted from the wash room which jolted her father awake. He seemed instantly poised to make a dash to his wife’s aid. Then, perhaps realizing he would be able to do nothing, sat back and gave Mendel’s hand a squeeze. A few more long moments passed and after another particularly alarming cry, and just as Mendel noticed the dawn creeping through the entry window, a smaller cry broke on the air. A tiny, gasping, gurgling sound that heralded the arrival of a baby long awaited by every person in the house.”