Halo (Currently on Hold)

~ Chapter Three ~

Martin's point of view:

My eyes opened and I felt a world and a half better. I felt soft sheets on my skin and recollected what happened to me the nights before. When I was starving, hungry and dirty. Then at night, I was saved by a man walking through the forests of England. A man in his late forties, with greying brown hair and eyes the colour of grey mist.

"Men! I see something! What is that?!" The strange man called as I lay on the ground. He ran to me, and it was clear he was on some sort of hike with some friends of his.

"Help..." I squeaked. My voice was raspy and could barely be heard unless he was extremely close to me.

"I'll help you. My name is Lawrence, what is yours?" He asked. I wanted to answer but I felt as my consciousness began to lower and everything went black.

Yes that was exactly what happened. I must be in his house, in his guest room or something like that. I felt better, this must have been because of the rest that I had. I didn't know how long I had been in bed, but I knew it had been for a long time. Maybe a little more sleep would have done me even better? But just when I was about to fall back to sleep, something else happened. It was revolutionary.

In walked a woman, standing against the wall, in a long, white nightgown. A waterfall of blonde hair fell in thick curls down to under her breasts. Skin a soft ivory like a white clover flower in the springtime. Never in my life had I seen such a fairytale goddess. I felt my heart beating fast as she stared back at me with those glistening blue eyes. Who was she? Was she an angel that had wandered into this room, coming to retrieve my soul after leaving my physical body and ascending to heaven with me? I wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case, because she was the most bewitching woman I had ever seen. Not in the whole of my native Germany had I see a girl so heavenly. The heaving of her chest in little intervals as we watched each other, it was like nothing I had ever felt or witnessed before.

"You're awake," she spoke to me. Her accent was British, but not rough like some. It was fluent and graceful, like a dancer flowing in the skies as if it was a stage. My mind felt as if it was turning to stone as I looked at her.

"I am," I replied. She stood there for a final moment, and then she made her way to the bedside. She stood before me as I turned my head to watch her. It was haunting, her beauty. Like some sort of euphoric spirit that watched over me like a lovely eagle in the air.

"My name is Juliet Rennoll," she said.

"I'm Martin Althaus," I replied. Juliet. What a songbird would sing if a name could be put into music. Like Juliet from Shakespeare's play, but hopefully with a happier fate. I was never much for tragic love stories. But as she sat herself down at my bedside, I knew there was more than tragedy, there was every emotion mixing into an unkempt pile of nothing.

"You're a soldier, yes?" She asked.

"I'm a pilot more than anything," I said to her. She nodded and took a tiny but noticeable breathe. What I would have given to feel what her skin felt like, its texture and its smoothness. I bet it felt like fine Egyptian silk.

"My father is fascinated by that. I'd like to say I should be as well," she replied. So the man, this Lawrence, he was her father? The man that had taken me in was not only kind and helpful, but he had a godly angel for a daughter. One man could not have ended up in my debt all the more. He acted as my saviour and my caretaker, and then he had this beautiful daughter.

"Why so? I'm not interesting," I said. I thought this much was true. But this small family didn't seem to think so. It may have been because I was a German pilot and they were English, that would have made sense.