{Shadows of a Professional Tip-Toer}{language warning}
December 6, 2009 - 7:03am — Whyss
Shadows of a Professional Tip-Toer
Whyss Shywind
Will had never been a particularly strong boy. He was not given to loud or boisterous play, and did not do well with the rough and tumble groups that presided over his elementary school.
Indeed, Will was rather that kind of child whom nobody might like – he sneaked. He went about very quietly and inobtrusively, so that no one might know he was there, and he watched. And listened. Always listening, was Will. He learned many things that were not taught in his school, and he knew secrets that would have turned the whole staff on their heads.
But this is not to say Will was an unpleasant child. Quite the opposite – he was kind, polite, willing to please and playful. He desired to be a joy to others – but was unsure how.
You see, Will had a father and mother, like most children, but his Father was not a man who often shared his joy with others. In fact, Will’s father was the cause of much of the boy’s mannerisms – Will snuck about quietly on tiptoe to avoid his father’s wrath. The man was well given to drink and fits of temper, and if Will knew that if he were not careful, he might bring all the wrath of hell down upon his head.
“Boy, what’re you doin’ b’ind that couch?”
“N-nothin’, Da. Just playin’.”
“Nh.”
Will’s mother was the light of kindness in his life. She was worn, and looked older than her age: for too long she had lived under the unpredictable iron fist of her husband. However, she still carried with her a spark and a joy that molded Will and made him realize that his father was not a kind man.
“Gordon… Gor, I think… I think I’m going over to my mother’s.”
“Whassamatter? She sick?”
“No… No, I just want to visit for a bit. I’m going to take Will, too.”
“What? Whass’ose bags for?”
“We… I thought we might stay the night.”
“No.”
“Gor-“
“No, and that’s the final word.”
“…No.”
“…Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”
“I said no, Gordon.”
Huddled beyond the doorway, Will watched his mother crash to the ground, blood touching the edge of her mouth, and a red welt raising where his father had slapped her.
Will had seen his father angry before. He had seen the man strike his wife more than once before. But Will had never seen his father murderous before.
“Gordon…”
“Gonna run away, bitch? Gonna run away and hide behind yer ma? I think we both know what you’re at. Take my kid and leave town, I never see either of ya ever again. You think I was born yesterday?”
Will bolted. Feet slapping bare on the cold kitchen floor, he lunged for the phone. 911.
“Boy, whaddya think you’re doin’?”
“Please help. My mom… My dad’s beatin’ m’mom. I live at-”
The bottle came out of nowhere and smashed into Will’s shoulder. The boy fell, silent, curled into a broken ball, shards of glass littering the floor, some of it lodged in his flesh. The world titled madly in a scarlet-streaked haze, and he could not feel his body.
A voice whispered from the phone, but Gordon reached down, picked it up carefully, and set it back on it’s hook.
He reached for Will. “I’m not gonna let you hurt her again.”
“What’d you say, boy?”
A piece of glass. Just big enough. Will’s fingers curled around it, slicing ragged lines in his hand. His father’s grip on the back of his shirt.
“Gordon… God have mercy on you Gordon, if you hurt that boy-“
“Woman, get your ass on the couch, I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
Gordon was picking him up. With a grim tautness in his face Will twisted in his father’s grip and lashed out with the shard.
“…G-god… Buh… Beauuuuuuuughhhhrrr!”
Gordon’s mouth was now wider by an inch.
“Damb… braght…”
And then there was more blood than Will had ever seen, a crack like thunder had torn the house apart.
Will's father fell to the floor, a smoking circle in his forehead.
Will's mother, tear-streaked and quaking, dropped the gun and rushed to her son's side.
Will closed his eyes. The numbness covered his entire body now. He could feel nothing - not even his mother's arms as they wrapped around him.
And he died.
~
Poor soul, wandering. He'll never settle after being slain in such a barbaric manner.
Let us take him. He shall run the leaf-strewn forest floor, dive in the pond, eat his fill of berries and dance for us.
Strange words they were, that came through the blackness of this space, not even proper ones. He wondered if they might be French, or Spanish, or some other funny language. Then he questioned what language was. What were words, French, Spanish, English, or otherwise, in this place?
Will you dance for us, little one?
He had a sense of two great beings, impercetible and somehow beyond existance as he understood it. He felt, rather than saw, them exchange glances before bending over him, though he did not seem to exist as he remembered it.
Then, his shoulder began to ache. It grew cold, then hot, then it was as if his whole body were being shoved through a thick glass - without breaking it. He had a sudden flash of images flood his mind's eye - himself, Will, at every one of his birthdays, every Christmas, every good memory he could think of. All of it passed within moments. Then came the bad memories - his first bullying at school, the first time his father beat him.
And then it was as if these memories were erased. Thrown into the strange, empty space around him, filled by the two beings.
Then... Some things returned to him.
He remembered his mother's face. Her smile. Her warmth, her humanity. He remembered her touch. However, he could also remember the moment she fell, he could remember the bottle against his shoulder, the gunshot. The numbing, touchless sensation of dying.
You have a new name, little one, to go with your new life. This is a place of peace and tranquility, away from your pain and suffering and sorrows. Welcome to the Endless Forest, Whyss.
...
...Birds.
He could hear birds.
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I don't normally like writing, but I have been working on Whyss' previous life's story in preparation for his entrance into the Endless Forest and wanted to have this down on paper, if only for my own remembrance
Any critique appreciated, I'm very thick-skinned, so if you have something to say on the craft, please feel free.
Ooo I love this! I'm going to say, I was never much for violence, but I do like how little Will was granted a renewed life in a place of eternal peace.
I do feel bad for his mother though. Lost her only son ;-;
The writing was excellent-I couldn't stop reading ^^
Ooo I love this! I'm going to
I do feel bad for his mother though. Lost her only son ;-;
The writing was excellent-I couldn't stop reading ^^