Monsters Law Pt. 1

Lingon Ross

Lingon Ross was a young man when he took an interest in medicine and human anatomy. His father was a doctor as well, and often Lingon would go work with him and learn from him. When the young man was a eleven years old his mother announced she was pregnant. The home was ecstatic. Up till that point Lingon was an only child. The news that his mother was about to have a child brought upon an excitement that only an older brother could get. From seeing his mothers stomach get bigger holding a new treasure to moving furniture to make room for the child. Though Marie and Dresden fought often now, they also became closer than they had been before. They both had to think back to when Lingon was born. Things were tight with money.

The first years of their marriage had been hard. Before he became a doctor Dresden and Marie had worked in industrial factories. Earl Ross, Dresden's stepfather, decided to offer him money to get through school. Dresden took the offer. The young couple was always grateful to the old man. And that was how they supported Lingon. And that was how they were going to support Nellie.

The Market

Irene walked through the market. On her birthday, it was nice to be our of the factory and out of the home. Even though the street was filled with a thick, muggy smoke, it was better than the smell of sweat and child. She breathed deeply in the cool air. She couldn't help but smile at the old women running the produce shops. And keeping an eye out for a young farm boy wouldn't hurt either. She didn't get out much.

She was always so cooped up. Working hard as a seamstress didn't allow for much free time, and when free time was allowed it was often put into learning. Her grandmother taught her at night. The Richards were not the most prosperous family in the city of London. She knew she was even a miracle for being alive, let alone born. Ever since she was young she had to work in factories. She was so often sick that her body had a hard toll taken on it by the time she was thus old, seventeen going on eighteen. But she was still alive. And for that, she thanked God every day.

And on this day, December sixteenth, she was especially thankful. She was finally going to be eighteen. At eighteen she could finally look for a young man. This was her main reason for being in the market. And getting some potatoes for a stew. The fact that she was allowed to get potatoes was a treat in itself. Ever since the famine up in Ireland, potatoes had been scarce. Everybody closed quarters a bit too. But the celebration was enough. Though eating potatoes every day wasn't an option, having soup for one night was.

Irene walked right up to the stand and started picking the potatoes. As she stood a man not much older than she walked up next to her. He work a dark trenchcoat and tall hat. He bumped into her as he reached for a potato.

"Oh, I'm sorry Ma'am."

Irene smiled at the man. "It's alright. There's enough potatoes..." She thought to herself for a moment. "I guess there aren't that many potatoes."

The man laughed and she smiled at him. "Well, I don't think the two of us shall use all of them up."

She laughed. "No, I suppose not. I'm Irene."

"Ah, Irene." He grinned. "Peace."

She blushed. "Yes."

He smiled at her and continued to pick potatoes. "I'm Joseph."

She smiled and held out her hand. "I'm sorry Joseph. I don't think I know much about names. All I know about Joseph's is that his brothers hated him and he had a very colorful coat."

He too her hand. "Ah, but there is so much more to it than that. Did you know he became the pharaoh once he was released from prison?"

"Well, I have heard the story before, but, I don't know I ever knew that he was in prison. Why was he there?"

He laughed to himself, but it seemed to erupt. But Irene couldn't have been hurt. She was fascinated.

"Because, he was accused of stealing."

"Did he steal?"

"No."

And for the remainder of that afternoon the two talked. Joseph patiently listened to everything that Irene asked. Irene couldn't have been happier. But the conversation did not just stay in the realm of Bible stories. They told of each other. Irene was absolutely enchanted by the man, whom she now found out was twenty years old, still a boy. As soon as the first lantern was lit on the street, Joseph was quickly taken by it.

"Irene, its has been more than a pleasure to meet you. But I must bid you farewell now."

"Why? Why don't you come to my home for supper?"

"No, I'm sorry. I can't. If I do, I fear I would never see you again."

She smiled sadly at the boy. "Well, if you ever want to come, I live two blocks down, and our house is small with a green door."

"Thank you Irene. Your company has been of the utmost."

"It has been nothing but a pleasure. Good night Joseph."

"Good night Irene."

And with that the coated boy walked away, far into the night.

Mothers

That night, Irene got to grandmothers home and was greeted with a small package on the doorstop. It was wrapped in a neatly tied ribbon and addressed to her. She bent down despite her many skirts and picked up the small box in her hand. She pulled gently on the ribbon and pulled off the top, revealing the contents.

"A ring" she breathed as the box top fell to the snow dusted ground. She quietly touched the silver shape with her white finger. It was cold to her warmth. Remarkable, but why a ring? she wondered to herself. She picked up the lid and gathered herself to enter the house.

It was warm, filled with a glow that made a hard person tender. She hung up her coat as two young blond haired boys ran to greet her. "Happy Birthday, Reenie!" they hollered as they attacked their sister with hugs and kisses. She kneeled down and kissed them both. "Thank you boys."

Leo looked at her questioningly. "Reenie, do you like your ring?"

"Well, yes, I liked it very much, but how did you know?"

"Because a Lingon Ross was here to see you earlier" said Albert Richards. Irene straightened up and walked over to her father, greeting him with a hug. "Happy Birthday Irene."

"Thank you Papa." She wanted to ask about the ring, and whoever this Lingon Ross was. Before she could however, her mother attacked her with her share of kisses. "I love you darling." Irene kissed her back. "I love you too, Ma'ma."

Her mother led her into the kitchen gently. Irene took the potatoes out of her knitted bag and began peeling the skin off of them with a knife. The room was not filled with noise, but rather an awkward silence. "How is grandmother?" Irene asked.

Mother smiled sadly as she continued to peel the vegetables while Papa played with the boys. "She is not well. Well, she has been better but..." she stopped and struggled to continue. "Your grandmother has lived a full life. We mustn't worry about her. Lord knows she isn't afraid to die." Her eyes welled up thinking of her mother and death in the same gap of time. She gave her daughter a quick grin and continued working on supper.

And Irene didn't ask any questions. Mothers are a tender subject. You don't speak of death with them.