Cinderlouis (Larry Stylinson)

Two

Louis awoke with the sun. The light beamed through the holes in the ceiling and danced across Louis’ face. Louis always loved the sun and the warmth it brought to him. He supposed that the sun would always be there, and always be warm. He liked the sun’s promises.

The Tomlinson’s (minus Louis) wanted to go out to the village to have breakfast that morning. Louis had nothing to eat and nothing to clean, so he was rather bored. Louis decided to take a walk.

Louis took this journey many times. Whenever he could he would go out and breathe fresh air. He always found himself going to the same place whenever he left the house.

He followed his own path to that one tree where his mother was buried six feet below. No one else knew she was here; just Louis and Marcus. She passed away from an illness when Louis was just seven years young. They had a private funeral, with just the two of them there.

That day is one Louis remembers more clearly than any other. Father told him that mother had to become one with the earth that day. They took her sleeping body out to the woods outside their home, to the lone birch tree that grew well within it. Louis’ father was crying, so Louis began to cry. Louis’ father started to dig a hole in the ground, but had to stop for a while and just cry. Louis took the shovel from him and continued digging, and Marcus watched his son and held his wife’s hand, and silently begged to God that his son would live the happiest, most wonderful life anyone had ever lived.

Louis sat down at the base of the birch tree. Its bark was peeling. There were little buds at the ends of most of the branches, signaling a spring was about to come. Louis patted the ground, pretending to hold his mother’s hand.

“Hello, mum.” Louis said to the empty air. No one ever responded. Louis didn’t mind. “I hope you’re alright. And dad, where ever you are, I hope you’re alright as well.”

Louis knew it was useless to talk to trees. He knew that these conversations wouldn’t bring them back to life. Louis simply liked the idea of them being there with him. He liked being able to talk to someone who cared, even if they were dead.

A small bird was perched on one of the tree’s branches. Louis recognized it as a sparrow. The bird raised its eyebrows at the boy talking to himself in the forest. The bird thought Louis was crazy.

“Don’t be silly. Birds don’t have eyebrows.” Louis said to himself as he continued to stare at the bird.

Louis was about to get up and go home before he was stopped by a demanding but hushed voice.

“Stop! Don’t move a muscle.”

Louis stared at the bird again, wondering how it could’ve spoken. The bird took flight, and as Louis watched it fly away, his eyes landed on someone crouched in the bushes.

The someone had a weapon.

Louis froze and stared at the arrow pointing directly at him from the someone’s bow. Louis closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, waiting to feel a stabbing pain from the weapon. How convenient that he would die on his mother’s grave.

Louis heard the bow shoot and was surprised to not feel a thing. He opened his eyes one by one and looked around to make sure he was really alive. He heard the feet of the killer coming towards him and he crawled up into a ball to try and protect himself.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” The someone’s voice said. Louis looked up to see a tall stranger with his hair pulled into a messy bun and his weapons lax.

He was a hunter. He held out his hand to Louis to help him up. He warily took hold and got pulled upright.

He was tall. At least a head taller than Louis. He had a charming smile and dimpled cheeks. His attire looked like he belonged to wealth, though that wasn’t the look he was going for.

Louis was covered in dirt.

“You nearly scared off my prey.” The hunter said. He was still holding Louis’ hands.

“’M sorry.” Louis attempted.

“Come fetch it with me?” The hunter invited Louis, though Louis took it as an order.

“Yes.” Louis managed. The hunter let go of Louis’ hands and slowly started to lead the way to his victim. Louis followed quickly.

Soon they met a deer, lying on its side with dead eyes and an arrow through its heart. Louis gasped.

“Look at that. I’ve hit the stag straight in the heart. Huh.” The hunter took his arrow from the stag and cleaned it off. “I hardly ever hit my target, let alone the heart of it.”

“How should I carry it?” Louis held out his arms, so tiny and thin compared to the massive deer.

“With my help, of course.” The hunter said. It was then Louis noticed the man’s full figure, his arms probably strong enough to lift the deer himself. Louis grabbed the back end while the hunter proudly took the antlers up front.

“What are you doing all alone out in the woods?” the hunter asked Louis as they walked wherever the hunter was leading them. Louis wasn’t sure how to get home from here.

“I’m not alone.” Louis said.

“You were before I showed up.”

“No I wasn’t, I-” Louis didn’t know how to finish his sentence, so instead he said, “Yeah, I suppose I was alone.”

The hunter dropped his end of the stag on a tarp Louis supposed he had placed, leaving all the weight to Louis. Louis almost fell on top of the dead deer before he regained his balance.

“How come?” The hunter asked.

Louis shrugged. “Perhaps I enjoy it.”

The hunter let out a huff. “That’s a bit strange, you know.”

“Well what about you?” Louis asked, though he probably shouldn’t have. “If being alone is so terribly strange, why are you out here hunting all alone?”

The hunter thought for a minute. “Sometimes, it’s nice to get away.”

“I agree.” Louis smiled.

“I live a hectic life, and to be able to come out and hunt is rare for me. Every second of my life I am surrounded by people I care nothing about, and when I come here, they’re gone.” The hunter sighed and looked down at his deer. “But now I have a dead deer and nothing to do with it.”

“What are you saying?” Louis asked. “You killed this deer and you’re not going to use it? Eat it? Sell it?”

“I have no need. I just needed to kill something. And I’ve done that.”

Louis looked down at the deer. It was a dead deer. The deed was done. There was no need to feel bad for the animal, but Louis did.

“That’s quite a heartless thing to do.” Louis stated. “But it isn’t the most heartless thing you could’ve done.”

“It would be heartless of me not to offer it to you.” The hunter said, looking Louis up and down. “You may need it more than I.”

The hunter handed Louis the handles of the tarp. If Louis brought a dead deer home, Verna might have him beheaded. He was instructed not to leave the house.

Louis took the deer anyway.

He brought the deer to Miss Cox. At first she refused to take it, but Louis needed to get rid of it, so he persuaded her. She had asked him how he came across it, and Louis just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders and went home, because he wasn’t sure if the hunter was a man of his dreams or not. He seemed unreal, but the dead deer proved him wrong.