Garder mon Ame

Chapter Three: Miracles and Music

I went forth to find an angel
And found this effort brought
That life is full of so much good
The touch that angels wrought."

-James Joseph Huesgen

The angels stand between us and God, but they are translucent, even transparent, and they beckon us to penetrate their luminosity. -- Peter Wilson

A small girl with vibrant red hair peeked her head out from underneath her pink bedcovers, a smile plastered on her innocent, pale face. Her blue eyes harbored stars, lights of the originality and purity of children that break through even the darkest of forces. Her skin was flawless, like a diamond fallen from untouched space, and she giggled, a melody of beauty, as she stared up at her big brother.

"Tell me a story, Cyra!" she cried, sitting upright in bed.

Cyra had placed himself next to his sister, and he yawned at the little kid's insistence. "It's late; don't you want to go to bed?"

The girl's red lips puckered and pouted, and her eyebrows contracted in what was quite a pitiful expression. Her brother was forced to relent.

"Fine," Cyra said, rubbing his eyes. "Which one do you want?"

"The one about the snowstorm!"

"I think you've heard that one too many times."

"No I haven't! Please, Cyra, tell it to me!"

"Alright." Cyra leaned back against the headboard and stared at the little girl as he delved into the magical atmosphere of a bedtime story. "There was once a brother and sister, and they lived in the cold, unforgiving mountains of Colorado."

"Can they live somewhere else this time? Someplace more exciting?"

Cyra's lips twitched into a gentle smile. "Miracles happen to even the most dull people and in even the most remote locations. Now, like all small children, they often fought with their parents over bedtime and eating sugary sweets, but, like all small children, they possessed the beautiful innocence and massive hearts of the pure.

Now, like I said, they inhabited a small cabin in the middle of the woods. It was an amazing location, away from the smog of the city that fills your lungs and soul, and the brother and sister were very happy. They even had a neighbor, a little girl named Johnsy."

Cyra's sister contracted her eyes in a ridiculous grimace. "But you always say that the neighbor's name is Colin, and he's a boy."

"Who's the one telling the story? Now, as is quite obvious to even the most uneducated, the middle of winter in the mountains can be very harsh. That particular season brought with it icy weather so cold that it dug deep into your skin and froze your spirit, and that frost also weaved sickness into its blanket of snow. Johnsy became very ill, and the brother and sister were told that she had merely moved on, a phrase that they interpreted as, Johnsy moved to the city and left us behind. Of course, in both understandings, they knew they would see their friend again.

"Well, one day, the brother and sister were peering out at Johnsy's house, and the lights that shown from it easily cut through the small flakes of snow. Now, excitement and ignorance are two very dangerous things, especially to two kids who-"