Dancing With A God

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

He was cold. And hungry.  Not that he was unfamiliar with those feelings but it still struck down his throat.  He envied Lucia Wellbone for she was in the warmth of her house, he envied his mother who was in the numbness of heaven, he envied the old girl.

Aaron stopped suddenly.

Dead's  aren't to be envied, he mused, nostalgia going over him again.

And so he continued his walk, the snow falling again and again making the way more difficult to cross. And so he wished to remember to make the trip more bearable.  And so he remembers. Because he rarely refuse something to himself.

He remembers his mother greeting a woman, he remembers that this woman had long hair that she would hide in a man's coat. He remembers many things about his mother and this woman.

Stroking his own long hair, he recalls that she too had long hair. She also had long nails.  And a sweet voice. A voice he would listen until he would fall asleep.

That woman was storytelling me. The boy told himself, surprised.

His mother never spent time with him at night. She would go to parties and dinners. But the boy he had been never accused her for not taking enough care of him. Elizabeth was one of the most caring mother in history, with the woman. That woman he couldn't get the name.

She also went by the surname of  'Old woman' or  'Missy'. But he had never called her another way. Why, he didn't know.

"Please . . . ." A weak voice called out, catching the boy's attention. He turned around, looking at where he came from, saw the house with the grey smoke coming out of the chimney but no humans who could have talked to him.

And then, by looking closer, Aaron saw. He saw a woman lying on the ground, red surrounding her. She seemed so small and so fragile the boy feared she was dying.

And that sight made Aaron remember moments of his life of when he was a child.  And that made him angry.

That girl doesn't know how to fight back, he thought angrily, recalling how brave the people he knew after knowing their fate.

He went on, erasing the woman from his mind, oblivious to the moans of hers behind him. It was one word who made him stop and go back.

"Aaron . . ."

There surely were many other boys in the world with that name but he couldn't stop remembering the way the old girl would call him. And that woman in the snow had the same soft voice, the same accent.

Even if he knew humans couldn't come back to the living world, he couldn't stop himself from hopping that his second mother was still alive.

"What did you say ?" He said, crunching his teeth and kneeling down. He was mad at that woman who made him remember so much.

"My Aaron . . ." And she started crying, silently, almost trying to hide her tears. "My little boy . . ."

It isn't her ! His subconscious screamed in his mind but the boy didn't listen. Missy called him the same way, with the same look in her eyes meaning she would do anything to protect him. 

"Please . . ." She scoffed in between her cries. "Please . . ." She repeated and Aaron knew she was dying.

And he didn't want to feel the weight of a dead on his mind. He didn't wish to let someone who reminded him so much of someone he loved. So he took her on his back and he started walking back to his house, the one he had sworn himself to never go back. 

Only, once arrived and next to the warmth of the dying fire, Aaron didn't know.  He had no wood to start again the fire he had made before leaving. He had no food to give to the woman. Nothing to make her hot and he had used already all of his medications and bandages. Taking her to his old house didn't seem to be a good idea anymore.

So, with nothing else to do than wait and pray, Aaron sat on a chair and glared at the sleeping human. He started a long time, not noticing the houses who passed or the fire who perished. He started for so long that he fell asleep on that same chair. 

And so, at the start of the early morning, the stranger woke up.

She looked around, unfazed by what was around, concern and worry on her face.   And then she recalled what happened the day before. How she died to survive in another year. 

It happened again . . .  She mused, sadly.

Because she didn't like the idea of ending her life somewhere and start a new one in a new place. It harmed her more than she ever thought.  But she couldn't control that 'power'.

Deep in her thoughts, the woman didn't see the sleeping man on the chair. Only, when she saw him, she understood why she died. It was to meet him again.  Her boy. The one she had learnt to love like her own son.

It was impossible that the man in front of her wasn't her Aaron. They had the same soft brown hair, the same tan skin, the same way of holding themselves when sleep-sitting.  Her little boy had survived and she couldn't thank enough whatever god who made it possible. Because when he left her arms, at age nine, he was sick and dying. He would surely have died if Eileen Brown hasn't come to save him.

Thank you . . . She said in her mind to whoever was listening. Her pleads had been heard. The one she saw as her son was alive. 

And even without knowing what had happened for her Aaron to have such a serious frown on his face, the woman felt relieved. Happy. So she went back on her back, lying down, a soft smile on her face, her eyes closed.

It was time for her to go back.  To come back home.  She had met the boy who had changed her life, she had found out who she was, she understood without looking.  Even if she didn't find avenge her dear parents, peace had found his way towards her heart.

  It was time for her to die from her injuries,
And go back home.