The Spark

The Friend and The Devil's Incarnate

The weight of our conversation hung heavily on my shoulders. I dragged my feet along, knowing that this was probably it.

Dejected, I sunk into the W sit that adults cautioned us against. The thing was, there was no adult to tell me to sit differently. I could sit however I wanted to. So there.

Next to me was a small stream, which I bent over to see what I looked like. My face wasn't encrusted with dirt, but it needed a good scrubbing. I needed more sleep, as I could see heavy bags under my eyes. My eyes shone with tears of rejection, fatigue, and immense sadness. The flower crown on my head and the yellow and white flower behind my ear still looked fresh, but when I touched them, I could feel them beginning to get dry and crunchy. Nothing lasts forever when it's far away from where it came from.

Mindlessly I dipped my cupped hands in the puddle and splashed some water on my face. It didn't do much except make me feel a little more alert. I blinked and wiped my face with my sleeve, which was getting dirty and turning a faint yellow. What I wanted was a good, long nap, but I also wanted Jack. In the short time that I'd been with him, I'd had so much fun and felt like I had finally found someone worth fighting for. I shut my eyes and thought about our first kiss, and the events that came before and happened after. Us running barefoot in the sand, laughing our heads off. Him tackling me to the ground and us continuing to laugh like there was no tomorrow.

How I wished it could stay that golden forever. How I wished I could find a happy medium between being with Jack and getting rescued. How I wished for him. Him, that damn Jack Merridew who I had once looked at with contempt only the devil would know. But, as Simon said, I could only hate someone so much it would loop all the way back to love that burned with a passion, sparking something that burned everything it touched.

A muffled snorting sound jerked me out of my head. I looked up and saw a pure pink piglet waddling its way in my direction. My eyes widened with adoration. I'd never seen a baby animal ever.

"Why hello there, little fella," I murmured, scooching closer to it. "You're sure a cute little guy." The piglet looked in my direction and stood there. Tentatively, I reached a hand out and gently laid it on its head. When it didn't pull away, I began petting it, feeling a strange sort of fondness for the innocent piglet. I wanted to protect it and pick it up and keep it in my pocket forever.

"You're so cute," I said quietly, a small smile of happiness on my face. "I think I'm going to call you Wilbur." I picked up Wilbur and set the squirming piglet in my lap. There he relaxed and rested his head, closing his eyes while I gently stroked his back. I thought about telling Simon. Yes, that was a great idea. He was an animal lover, and would understand my desire to protect it without my having to say so.

"Let's go see if Simon's around here somewhere, okay?" I said tenderly. I cradled Wilbur in my arms and stood up, trying to figure out where Simon might've gone. His forest clearing! Of course! A skip in my step, I carried Willard to the forest clearing.

"Y/n!" A painted figure popped out from behind a tree, grinning. I screamed and jumped, clutching Wilbur to my chest. The piglet squealed in protest.

"Wait, it's just me! Your friend Maurice, remember?" The former choirboy waved.

"Are you-did you join Jack's tribe?" I asked quietly, looking at him up and down. Maurice shrugged bashfully.

"I was going to get fed," he said sheepishly. "That's all I really wanted. And Jack promised to take me on the next hunting trip. That reminds me-you need to leave." I stared, taken aback by his audacity.

"Excuse me?"

"No no, I didn't mean it like that!" Maurice shook his head. "I meant that Jack and his tribe are going to be hunting around here. Said something about a couple of pigs and a forest clearing. And he told me you got really sick about it. So if I were you, I'd leave. And I'm saying this as your friend." I smiled.