Angel's Advocates
Angel's Advocates-Chapter 2-
"The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle."
"Are you okay?" the boy repeated in a low, far off tone. He sounded distracted by something,not completely aware of what was happening around him. His voice sent slight shivers down my spine, and I felt like crying all over again; but this time from relief.
I turned around and saw the boy, the one who'd pried his way into my sleep every night. Whether I thought they were dreams or nightmares is still undecided to me.
His jaw was tense, and his lips were pressed into a hard frown. I worked my way up, and soon was locked on the only piece of memory I had of that dream: his eyes. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I found myself wanting to timidly look away. However, I found that I was trapped in the prison of his eyes, with no means of escape. Now, I realize that was the first time I thought a boy was 'cute'. I still have no idea how I was worried about how he looked when I was half dead from cold. My hazy vision glorified him even more; his thin but muscular stature loomed over me, leaving me overwhelmed.
There was an air about him, an air of greatness, an aura of pure, untainted power. Most importantly over everything else, he emitted the sense of good intentions. He made me feel safe, as if I was being watched over by a powerful, protective being.
I didn't answer his question, but returned it with another question, "What's your name?" I was still bumbling around in my mind, in an odd stupor from the cold, and completely befuddled by the handsome thing in front of me.
"You are basically frozen, and you're worried about my name?" he replied. He let out a low laugh; I would've laughed with him, but I was too numb to put that much energy into a simple action. The cloudiness and distant look in his eyes had faded, leaving his eyes sharp and alert. This time, when he looked into my eyes, the effect was even greater. It felt like his eyes were piercing through me like spears, and it felt like he knew me, odd as it sounds.
I allowed my mind to wander for a split second, and then thought, what is he even doing in these woods? I wouldn't allow my mind to dawdle anymore, and all I cared about was getting home.
"I want my mama," I said innocently. He was right, I shouldn't be concerned about who he was, I should've been thinking about his ability to help me.
"Let's get you home," he replied with pity seeping into his features.
Mama had told me before never to talk to strangers, but the sympathy and pure sound of truth in his voice made it hard to even think he was lying. His voice was low and smooth, and soothing to the ears, and most importantly, sounded truthful. I was going to die if I didn't get help anyway... it was a risk I would have to take.
I tried to get up, and I fell back onto the ground, too tired and too cold for my arms and legs to work properly.
I knew something big was coming today, and that 'something' would change my life forever, over a matter of years. He stood there, deep in thought for a moment, contemplating something. He soon just shook his head and shrugged his coat off, and put it on me. I nuzzled into his warm coat, thinking of how proud I was of myself for finally finding the boy, even if it did involve a potentially fatal snow storm. I would not soon forget the events that took place that day.
He took me the opposite direction that I was headed in, and after a while, we saw lights in the distance, and I could feel everything I ever knew calling out to me, telling me to run to it.
I almost jumped off his back and ran back home... almost, but I didn't. I didn't want him to go, and I couldn't really move my legs. I finally met the boy in my dreams, and I didn't want him to walk out of my life. Something pulled me to him, an unseen force, that would, in a few years, compel me to dive deep into a world of secrets.
"Home!" I called, a little louder than was really necessary. He slowly and cautiously made his way down to the house. I felt pity for him, and disgust at myself that I'd taken his jacket. I could feel the tremors run through his body frequently from the cold, and his breathing was heavy. I rested my head on his back, and I could hear the subtle and moderate beating of his heart. It may have just been delusional from the cold, but his heartbeat seemed... odd, and not quite right. If I had to describe it, I'd say that it sounded too far away, like his body had swallowed his heart in its depths, and the beat was now just a muffled thumping from a million miles away.
As we neared, I could hear the commotion of terrified animals in the barn. It seemed like any animal that has ever lived on this farm was scared of everything. Snow, rain, sleet, clouds. All but Spade, of course, but that was what made me love them. Their imperfections were the reason I loved them so much. If they were all like the white horse the prince rides in on, they wouldn't mean as much to me.
We approached the maroon front door of the big, cream colored house, which seemed bigger to me than ever before, while I felt tiny and freezing. The dark green shutters on the windows were calling me and inviting me back home, along with the faint light emanating through the glass that separated me from all I knew and loved inside. The boy knocked three times on the monstrous door, and we waited for an answer.
My mother flung open the door with a worried look on her face, though her eyes still seemed distant, like they had ever since daddy died.
Recognition hit her, and she said, "Fallon! Oh Fallon, thank goodness you're safe!" She took me off the boy's back and hugged me tightly. "Don't ever do that again!" she said in her 'we'll talk about this later young lady' voice, although there was an edge of 'I was mildly worried, but, whatever' in her voice.
It was then that she realized he was there. "Thank you for bringing Fallon home! What is your name, young man?"
The boy replied, "Your welcome, and I'm Ayden McGuinn."
"Thank you so much, Ayden. How old are you?" she asked.
"Fourteen," he replied, wondering why it mattered.
"Aren't you a little young to be out alone this late... and in a snow storm at that!"
"I don't think so, Ma'am," he replied in a respectful tone, but with a slight look of dark amusement on his face. He obviously was in on a joke that my mother and I didn't have the pleasure of hearing. That joke, though, by the look in his eyes, was a cruel joke, to say the least.
He turned to leave but I said, "Please don't go!"
Something was telling me that something bad was going to happen if he left, and if he left, the last three years of would've been meaningless. For these past three long years, it's been my dream to know this boy, and if he left now, that dream would've been pushed aside, but would never cease to bother me.
My mother was looking at me questioningly, then something lit in her eyes and she said, "Won't you come in for a little while?" She must've seen the worry and desperation in my eyes. She knows how intuitive I have always been, though I didn't, at the time.
"Uh... sure," he said.
He came in and we lounged on the couch, wrapped in big, bulky blankets.
We spoke about random things, and laughed a few times. I took a deep interest in this boy, he was quite a character.
He was quite handsome, enough so to intimidate some people, and I am no exception.
We talked about families, and when we asked about his he gave short and choppy answers, not telling us anything about his family, and sadness would come to his eyes. I didn't know what happened to him, and I had no idea what his life story was, but his family was a touchy subject, and he obviously didn't want to talk about it.
In the end, his family was still a mystery to us. My mother, the whole time he was there, had a quizzical look on her face. She was probably wondering about just what she was going to do with this boy.
After about an hour, my mother said, "I guess you should be getting home, your parents must be worried."
His face didn't change, but his eyes held a seemingly ancient sadness within them, and it was then that I realized what must be wrong.
"Where do you live?" I asked. Something felt wrong.
"Fallon! Don't be nosy!" My mother scolded.
"Um... uh..." Was all he could muster up at the time.
"Tell me, boy. Where. Do. You. Live?" I asked sternly. I know, I was only ten: what right did I have to pick on a fourteen-year-old? I knew that, but I did it anyway.
He sighed, defeated. "Nowhere."
My mother gasped, "Oh you poor, poor boy! Please stay here until the storm passes! I wouldn't want you to freeze out there if you have nowhere to go!"
He said, "I appreciate it, but I don't wish to be a burden."
"No problem!" my mother said back, probably feeling terrible that she almost sent him out into a blizzard with nowhere to go.
"Thank you," he said, as I led him up to the spare room.
As soon as he was nestled up in the guest bedroom, I went back downstairs, sitting back down on the soft rug in front of the mammoth stone fireplace.
"How long can he stay, mama?" I asked her.
"I don't know, honey. I don't know anything about him. I'm going to call the orphanage and see if they're looking for him," she said, and walked away.
Ten minutes later, she came back into the room with a curious look on her face. "They say there is no record of an Ayden McGuinn in their databases."
We talked for a long time about what to do with the boy, and after a long time of debating and weighing risks, I finally got her to agree. Ayden McGuinn, the boy in my dreams with strange eyes and an aura of pure power, was going to stay with us as long as he behaved. I could see mama's unease, but also a glint of curiousness in her eyes. My journey was about to begin.
"Are you okay?" the boy repeated in a low, far off tone. He sounded distracted by something,not completely aware of what was happening around him. His voice sent slight shivers down my spine, and I felt like crying all over again; but this time from relief.
I turned around and saw the boy, the one who'd pried his way into my sleep every night. Whether I thought they were dreams or nightmares is still undecided to me.
His jaw was tense, and his lips were pressed into a hard frown. I worked my way up, and soon was locked on the only piece of memory I had of that dream: his eyes. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I found myself wanting to timidly look away. However, I found that I was trapped in the prison of his eyes, with no means of escape. Now, I realize that was the first time I thought a boy was 'cute'. I still have no idea how I was worried about how he looked when I was half dead from cold. My hazy vision glorified him even more; his thin but muscular stature loomed over me, leaving me overwhelmed.
There was an air about him, an air of greatness, an aura of pure, untainted power. Most importantly over everything else, he emitted the sense of good intentions. He made me feel safe, as if I was being watched over by a powerful, protective being.
I didn't answer his question, but returned it with another question, "What's your name?" I was still bumbling around in my mind, in an odd stupor from the cold, and completely befuddled by the handsome thing in front of me.
"You are basically frozen, and you're worried about my name?" he replied. He let out a low laugh; I would've laughed with him, but I was too numb to put that much energy into a simple action. The cloudiness and distant look in his eyes had faded, leaving his eyes sharp and alert. This time, when he looked into my eyes, the effect was even greater. It felt like his eyes were piercing through me like spears, and it felt like he knew me, odd as it sounds.
I allowed my mind to wander for a split second, and then thought, what is he even doing in these woods? I wouldn't allow my mind to dawdle anymore, and all I cared about was getting home.
"I want my mama," I said innocently. He was right, I shouldn't be concerned about who he was, I should've been thinking about his ability to help me.
"Let's get you home," he replied with pity seeping into his features.
Mama had told me before never to talk to strangers, but the sympathy and pure sound of truth in his voice made it hard to even think he was lying. His voice was low and smooth, and soothing to the ears, and most importantly, sounded truthful. I was going to die if I didn't get help anyway... it was a risk I would have to take.
I tried to get up, and I fell back onto the ground, too tired and too cold for my arms and legs to work properly.
I knew something big was coming today, and that 'something' would change my life forever, over a matter of years. He stood there, deep in thought for a moment, contemplating something. He soon just shook his head and shrugged his coat off, and put it on me. I nuzzled into his warm coat, thinking of how proud I was of myself for finally finding the boy, even if it did involve a potentially fatal snow storm. I would not soon forget the events that took place that day.
He took me the opposite direction that I was headed in, and after a while, we saw lights in the distance, and I could feel everything I ever knew calling out to me, telling me to run to it.
I almost jumped off his back and ran back home... almost, but I didn't. I didn't want him to go, and I couldn't really move my legs. I finally met the boy in my dreams, and I didn't want him to walk out of my life. Something pulled me to him, an unseen force, that would, in a few years, compel me to dive deep into a world of secrets.
"Home!" I called, a little louder than was really necessary. He slowly and cautiously made his way down to the house. I felt pity for him, and disgust at myself that I'd taken his jacket. I could feel the tremors run through his body frequently from the cold, and his breathing was heavy. I rested my head on his back, and I could hear the subtle and moderate beating of his heart. It may have just been delusional from the cold, but his heartbeat seemed... odd, and not quite right. If I had to describe it, I'd say that it sounded too far away, like his body had swallowed his heart in its depths, and the beat was now just a muffled thumping from a million miles away.
As we neared, I could hear the commotion of terrified animals in the barn. It seemed like any animal that has ever lived on this farm was scared of everything. Snow, rain, sleet, clouds. All but Spade, of course, but that was what made me love them. Their imperfections were the reason I loved them so much. If they were all like the white horse the prince rides in on, they wouldn't mean as much to me.
We approached the maroon front door of the big, cream colored house, which seemed bigger to me than ever before, while I felt tiny and freezing. The dark green shutters on the windows were calling me and inviting me back home, along with the faint light emanating through the glass that separated me from all I knew and loved inside. The boy knocked three times on the monstrous door, and we waited for an answer.
My mother flung open the door with a worried look on her face, though her eyes still seemed distant, like they had ever since daddy died.
Recognition hit her, and she said, "Fallon! Oh Fallon, thank goodness you're safe!" She took me off the boy's back and hugged me tightly. "Don't ever do that again!" she said in her 'we'll talk about this later young lady' voice, although there was an edge of 'I was mildly worried, but, whatever' in her voice.
It was then that she realized he was there. "Thank you for bringing Fallon home! What is your name, young man?"
The boy replied, "Your welcome, and I'm Ayden McGuinn."
"Thank you so much, Ayden. How old are you?" she asked.
"Fourteen," he replied, wondering why it mattered.
"Aren't you a little young to be out alone this late... and in a snow storm at that!"
"I don't think so, Ma'am," he replied in a respectful tone, but with a slight look of dark amusement on his face. He obviously was in on a joke that my mother and I didn't have the pleasure of hearing. That joke, though, by the look in his eyes, was a cruel joke, to say the least.
He turned to leave but I said, "Please don't go!"
Something was telling me that something bad was going to happen if he left, and if he left, the last three years of would've been meaningless. For these past three long years, it's been my dream to know this boy, and if he left now, that dream would've been pushed aside, but would never cease to bother me.
My mother was looking at me questioningly, then something lit in her eyes and she said, "Won't you come in for a little while?" She must've seen the worry and desperation in my eyes. She knows how intuitive I have always been, though I didn't, at the time.
"Uh... sure," he said.
He came in and we lounged on the couch, wrapped in big, bulky blankets.
We spoke about random things, and laughed a few times. I took a deep interest in this boy, he was quite a character.
He was quite handsome, enough so to intimidate some people, and I am no exception.
We talked about families, and when we asked about his he gave short and choppy answers, not telling us anything about his family, and sadness would come to his eyes. I didn't know what happened to him, and I had no idea what his life story was, but his family was a touchy subject, and he obviously didn't want to talk about it.
In the end, his family was still a mystery to us. My mother, the whole time he was there, had a quizzical look on her face. She was probably wondering about just what she was going to do with this boy.
After about an hour, my mother said, "I guess you should be getting home, your parents must be worried."
His face didn't change, but his eyes held a seemingly ancient sadness within them, and it was then that I realized what must be wrong.
"Where do you live?" I asked. Something felt wrong.
"Fallon! Don't be nosy!" My mother scolded.
"Um... uh..." Was all he could muster up at the time.
"Tell me, boy. Where. Do. You. Live?" I asked sternly. I know, I was only ten: what right did I have to pick on a fourteen-year-old? I knew that, but I did it anyway.
He sighed, defeated. "Nowhere."
My mother gasped, "Oh you poor, poor boy! Please stay here until the storm passes! I wouldn't want you to freeze out there if you have nowhere to go!"
He said, "I appreciate it, but I don't wish to be a burden."
"No problem!" my mother said back, probably feeling terrible that she almost sent him out into a blizzard with nowhere to go.
"Thank you," he said, as I led him up to the spare room.
As soon as he was nestled up in the guest bedroom, I went back downstairs, sitting back down on the soft rug in front of the mammoth stone fireplace.
"How long can he stay, mama?" I asked her.
"I don't know, honey. I don't know anything about him. I'm going to call the orphanage and see if they're looking for him," she said, and walked away.
Ten minutes later, she came back into the room with a curious look on her face. "They say there is no record of an Ayden McGuinn in their databases."
We talked for a long time about what to do with the boy, and after a long time of debating and weighing risks, I finally got her to agree. Ayden McGuinn, the boy in my dreams with strange eyes and an aura of pure power, was going to stay with us as long as he behaved. I could see mama's unease, but also a glint of curiousness in her eyes. My journey was about to begin.