"There's No Need Of Wings To Fly"

Chapter 8 ~ The Pendant.

"Driiiiiiiiiiin"

"Damn alarm clock!" I punched the tool on my night table, which was ringing without interruption and I threw it on the floor, ending up with the back opened and the piles out of it.

"That's an unusual method to turn an alarm clock off, Clare."

I looked up, suddenly, I looked right and left, but there was no one.

"Who's that?" I asked, scared.

"Clare, it's me." said a deep voice.

"Me who?" I sat up with the blankets which were acting like shields for me and the wall was behind me.

"Look on your chest."

I immediately looked at my necklace which I usually wore on my neck.

It was a golden necklace, long until half-breast with a golden pendant made out of a little mirror with a grip, which ended with a key; it was one of those ancient keys, Snow White style, except with a rose little flock on it.

At that moment it was illuminated and it transmitted a white intense light.

"Tell me it's just a prank." I implied.

"No it isn't." the same male voice answered.

"Okay, I'm dreaming, it's better if I lay down again." I said scared.

"No, you can't."

I tried to lay down again, but at a certain point my arms lifted by on their own, as if I would begin to fly, just like the mirror did some moments before. My feet lifted up from the ground, I couldn't control my body anymore, the pendant was pulling me upwards and it seemed that I was flying, completely unaware of how to control my body, the mirror was dragging me.

It made me go out of my bed, and I felt I had control of myself only at that instant when my feet touched the ground.

I looked at my pendant again.

"Now I absolutely don't understand anything anymore." I stated.

"You don't have to understand, you just need to listen to me." continued a voice coming from my mirror.

"Yeah sure, since when do mirrors talk?"

"But I'm not a mirror."

The light became more intense and a vortex of colours came out of it, just like those of the starry-nocturnal sky more or less.

From this vortex a little creature came out: the first thing I distinguished was its shape, but as the light became less and less intense as it was before, I understood what it was.

I opened my eyes widely.

"But...are you...a fairy?"

"No Clare, I'm just a guy like you." he said while he kept on hovering in the air, looking at me.

He fitted more or less in a hand: he was about ten centimeters high and thin like a finger. He had curly and chestnut brown hair, of a mid-length for a boy, up to his ears. His eyes, so little that I could barely see them, were hazelnut coloured, and his eyelashes were black and long. He was skinny, dressed as Peter Pan could have dressed at the never-never land, with a tattered t-shirt and the trousers up to his knees, he was barefoot.

From his shoulders two wings appeared, as big as his forearm, little but strong. They weren't two plumaged wings as angels have, instead they seemed like those of the butterflies.

They were little, lightweight, they seemed to let dust go everytime he moved them, their colour was a shading of brown and green, more or less the colour of the leaves in autumn, the same colour of his clothes.

He was really beautiful...not as Daniel could be, he was perfect to me for his aqua green eyes, for his hair and for his smile; but this "guy" who was in front of me was a more natural beauty, not perfect as Dan.

Who knows, sometimes too much perfection can become boring.

"Well, just let me say that to be a guy you're quiet little."

"Well, yeah, I know, it's a long story the reason why I'm this little." he answered.

"But if you're a guy like me...where do these wings come from? And why did you come out of a mirror?" I was still confused.

"Oh yeah, my wings...it was since a long time that I didn't move them, and use them to lift you up was a superhuman effort...they are all covered with dust.."

"So that thing which is falling down is actually dust.." I said.

"Ehm..yeah" he answered "after almost sixteen years I am imprisoned inside that trap, they are a little bit rusty."

"But..what were you doing inside there?"

"Ehm...dear Clare, it's a very long story" he hinted at my hand.

"Can I...sit down?"

"Uhm...yeah sure." I opened the palm upwards and he sat on it without efforts; my palm could perfectly act as a blanket for him.

"Before I start talking about me, I just want you to understand that this is not a dream, it's pure reality, my dear Clare."

"Okay, I believe you...but, who are you?"

"I'm Dave, your Guardian Angel."