King of Swords - Flash Fiction/Short story collection

Daisy Chain

I had this thing that made me a little different.

Something that made my emotions heightened and my memories more vivid. My mother used to say there are others like me who have this gift, but I haven't met anyone like me yet. Just sad people like her.

You see, I am overly happy, that's how they describe it. I have an excessive of happiness that allows me to retain my memories of the past, so much so that I can then share it with others. They're still trying to understand it, and I let them run whatever tests they want to, but I prefer to share my gift rather than spend time to try to understand it.

I first discovered I had this ability when I was younger, in the transitional years of my childhood, when i encountered a friend in need...

It had been a long day at school going, going over revision for tests that wouldn't even matter come six months and homework that would be recycled later anyway. I walked home that day, carrying the full load of my bag and feeling its weight in every step. I didn't mind, I guess. I thought it would make me get stronger or something. Strands of my hair escaped their tight band and brushed my face in the wind. Fidgeting with tucking the all back into place, I hadn't noticed the boy sobbing on my front porch. It wasn't until I had reached the steps that I saw him. He sat there, all hunched over, as soft sniffs and sighs escaped his mouth and nose.

'Wes', I said, alarmed, 'my goodness, what's wrong?'

I dropped my bag with a thump and sat next to him, wrapping my arms around him as I did.

'She's gone, Bea. She's gone'

I heard the rawness in his voice as he struggled to pronounce the words.

He didn't have to explain. I knew what he meant.

I let out a soft 'No', and the tears began once more, this time with a greater intensity. He held onto to my waist and cried into my shirt. I felt the breeze through the tear soaked fabric but it didn't bother me. I held his head close to my heart and sighed deeply, as I gently smoothed his hair.

And then it happened.

As the follicles of his hair brushed against my skin, in an instant we were no longer seated on the porch but in a green field littered with wildflowers and white daisies.

I looked at Wesley and he glanced at me but we said nothing.

As we looked around where we were, I felt a powerful sense of deja vu, and an even greater sense of nostalgia, Everything about this place seemed oddly familiar but I couldn't put into words what it was.

As we wandered through the field, I could feel the heat of the sun bearing down on my skin and browning it further. The air was sweet and light, and everything was bathed in a golden sepia tone. The grass was velvet underfoot. Wes' hair looked like strands of gold, glistening and brilliant, whilst my own hair glowed a warm violet brown, with faint streaks of red, like a hearth in winter. As we marvelled at our surroundings, we had failed to realise that we were not alone in this place.

In the distance, I spotted three blurry figures. They looked human like, as they moved about the meadow; jumping and chasing and swaying. Wes held out his hand and I took it, and in the silence we planned what we would do. We moved slowly towards them and, using the grass as cover, we crept close to the ground until we could hear their laughter. Then we saw them. They were children, but there was something about them.

We sat down and watched them, perplexed by all that had occurred and by what we were seeing in front of us. The children were alone, they didn't seem much older than seven, but they were not afraid. They were joyous and boisterous, bounding through the field and pouncing on one another.

'There's something about them, what is it?', I heard Wes say, but his lips stayed pursed together.

I shifted in my place, trying to see who these children were. They didn't turn our way.

As I moved impatiently, it was then that I noticed Wes' face. I had never seen him so calm, so serene. It was like something had washed over him, cleansing him of all his distress and grief that only moments ago had engulfed him.

'Wes, what is it?', I heard in my mind.

'I don't know, I just- I just feel-', his voice trailed off, while his mouth softened into a smile.

I felt the tension leave the grip in his hand and he closed his eyes, as if to savour it all.

I glanced back at the children and found three sets of eyes staring back.

I would've screamed had my voice been there still, when I saw the faces of those children.

They were us. Wes and I. That would have been enough, had it not been for the third child, the smallest of them all. I tapped him on the shoulder, waking him from his trance.

He looked at me with annoyance but when he saw the anguished look on my face, he knew I wasn't pulling my leg.

And then he turned, and saw her; her two little pigtails messy and full of flowers. Her pinafore, blue denim with paint stains and flecks of mud. Her sweet face smiled a toothless grin, making her apple red cheeks more round and adorable. He saw his eyes in hers, the same shade of eucalyptus green with the warmth of coffee brown mixed into a radiant hazel.

I saw his face change then, I saw the world dissolve and collapse into itself as he whispered,

'Mia'

We were on the porch again. I found myself gasping and retching for air. Wesley, still shaken himself, leant over and tried to help; tapping my back as if to release what was inside. He was saying something but I couldn't hear him. All I heard was a sharp, shrill hum echoing within my eardrums. When it subsided and I caught my breath, he gazed at me and implored that I give him an explanation, but I couldn't.

'I don't know what to tell you. I honestly have no idea what just happened'

'And it's never happened before, this was the first time?', he went on.

'Yes. I've never done that before. I did do that right?'

'Yeah, that was you'

'But what was it?', I asked. Goosebumps began to swell on my arms.

'It was the gift. You have the gift, the gift those people want, remember?'

Suddenly, I felt my heart quicken its step within my chest. 'Do you think they'll come for me?'

'No', he said, so firm and so sure, 'because I won't let them take you'. Then in a much somber tone he said, 'They already took Mia. I'm not going to lose you too'

I swiftly reached out and latched onto him, hugging so tightly that I might have stopped his breathing, but he hugged me back with equal force.

My mind began to buzz with worry at what he had said, but as we sat on the porch steps still in each other's embrace, I felt some assurance that maybe things would turn out okay.

I didn't think about anything else then. I just listened to Wes' soft breaths, felt his heart against my ear. We gazed up at the sky covered in cotton candy clouds and heard flow of distance traffic, like waves washing on the beach.

That was the first time it happened and the last where it held any meaning for me.