"Hey, aren't you gonna come play?" Her arctic eyes hid beneath her dark copper fringe. Nevertheless, they still shined brighter than the fiery sun.
"I would be quite foolish if I declined such an offer," I said with a smile.
A pearly white grin pinched its way onto her rosy cheeks at my every word. She scurried ardently in the high grass to take my monstrous hand in her petite one. I did enjoy alighting in her comatose imagination during the nights. It was the only times I had any real use of my dead senses -- smell, taste, and especially touch. Electricity forever coursed through my being with each brush of her velvet skin. The little one was no taller than my navel, so when her oceanic orbs beamed into my pine colored eyes, the light reflected off of them so beautifully. They almost looked white. The rays shined on her little face in the most exquisite angle that, for the slightest of moments, I thought I was thrown into the future, staring into the eyes of a young lady. She was breath taking... just as seeing royalty for the first time. That being said, I fully intended on treating her as such, as a prince would a princess, for as long as her soul sang.
I knelt down, still grasping her hand tenderly. "And as it is your birthday, we can play which ever game you fancy."
Her smile brightened, became impossibly wider, and so her eyes crinkled into semi circles, resembling the beauty of a crescent moon. With her freed hand, she shielded her mouth to muffle her innocent chortle. "I want to play princess!"
She needn't say more. I pressed my lips to the back of her hand, then said smoothly, "Oh, Princess Darcy, as your faithful servant, how may I be of service to your Highness?"
She chortled yet a second time. The delicate sound sent my heart into a gravityless whirl. "A princess needs a prince. You're my prince!" She liberated her hand from mine --leaving my palm to feel rather empty and cold -- then curtsied.
I bowed as well. "My gracious Princess. My dear Darcy, you have just celebrated your eighth year. You are now of age to be with a prince in holy matrimony. And as your prince we are to wed as soon as possible!"
The crescent moons of her front turned full in surprise as she jumped up and down gleefully. "So we can live happily ever after?"
My heart felt light at such an idea. I couldn't help but to grin myself. "Is that not how a princess always lives out her story?"
~O~
I always disliked having to leave her when her dreams became sweet. The sun would rise in morn and then I had to take my leave. My mind would evaporate from hers a couple of hours before her mother or father would tiptoe into her sleeping chamber to awake my Princess . But I still attempted to make the best out of those dreary hours. I would admire the softness of her breath, the way her nostrils flared occasionally at a sharp intake for oxygen, the rise and fall of her little round stomach... Even though she laid completely still, watching the little one was quite the sight. It was marvelous watching her in such a calm state. Unfortunately, this bliss must come to end as well. She would wake by a soft nudge or poke upon her arm by her parents. She would roll over and pull her quilt over her head, then mumble a plea for few more minutes of slumber. Jealousy filled my core as I gandered at their natural senses. I longed to be able to tickle her into a fit of giggles the way her parents did so often. I fancied terribly the thought of finally discovering what scent lingered from her hair and flesh. They mention that Darcy smells of shampoo after her bath. What does that even smell like? And I wouldn’t ever dream of frightening the young soul by materialising before her eyes. Alas, these were all the reasons why I couldn’t wait for nightfall. In her dreams, we could converse and play. I could show myself in my true form. I could smell half of the time. It all depended really on what she chose as her scenery. She had a tendency to choose fields, forests, prairies... She seemed to love nature. And as did I as I would shove my nose into a bushel of flowers. She fashioned little daisies, lavenders, roses and baby’s breath into a crown for me once. She then placed it atop of my head.
“Now you’re a princess too!” She chirped to me in her dream.
She spoke frequently of me to her parents.
“Mommy! Daddy! The blond boy was in my dream again!”
“You dream about him a lot, Darcy,” they respond back every time. “Is this a boy from school?”
“No… He looks too old to be from my school,” her voice would drop slightly as she pursed her rosy lips in thought. “He looks like a teenager. He’s tall… and handsome… I only see him in my dreams though…”
And I intended it to stay that way.
