My Dear Laurens (Lams)

J. Laurens

Comfort, excitement, wonder.  

These emotions swam through Laurens' mind when he felt the inn shake. The growl of an angry god bellowing through the heavens. Was the afterlife so upsetting or was it the frustration one feels when their subjects do nothing but sin? 

Laurens was sleeping on his right side, facing the wall. The wall hadn't been painted for years. It was left to decay with time like all things in life. Laurens could pinpoint every wide stroke of white left on the wall. He almost wanted to grab a can of paint and mend the stripped enamel himself. A pity to see potential wasted when healing was so simple.  

His weary eyes drifted across the wall to watch its imperfections stand bare with every strike of lightning. Every faded fragment and hidden scrape vulnerable to onlookers. Its insecurities accentuated with blasts of electricity random or purposeful.  

Laurens knew he could not fall back asleep at this sunless hour. So, he sat up in his bed causing a creak to follow his every move and stared out of the window. Dark clouds gorged and overflowing greeted his tired consciousness. The town below him was blurred and empty. Laurens could never understand why more people didn't run outside in times like these. What have their lives come to if they cannot enjoy the peppering of droplets falling on their faces? Or, one of his favorites, cupping your hands in front of you to fill your palms with rainwater. Once full, then, and only then, do you tip your make-shift bowl toward your lips and drink. That step might not be as popular with the crowds, but Laurens loved it. 

Appreciation and contentedness swirled in his heart of hearts. He could have sat there watching the storm from the present hour of three, all the way to seven AM when he would leave his room to get breakfast. For himself, and his friends, of course.  

His ears, in a state of Zen, caught a sliver of curiosity. Waking them from serenity and replacing calm with an inquisition.  

Other than thunder, what else could they hear? 

Laurens heard a whimper on the other side of the wall. A whimper followed by words, fast and phobic.  

He leaned to the left and pressed his ear to the vertical plane. Itching to unravel this mystery.  

He couldn't make out every word, but a single phrase spoken at the highest volume of a whisper was unmistakable: "you're okay, you're safe". These four words repeated themselves over and over again.  

A voice scared and alone in the room next to him. In the room belonging to Alexander Hamilton.  

Laurens' fairy godmother had assigned him a second mission: help Alexander.  

Laurens got out from under the covers and met an undesirable companion named Cold. He stripped the bed of its comforter and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders clutching it close to his chest. He opened the door, and just like the twin-sized bed, it creaked.  

He only needed to walk a few feet before he arrived at his destination. 

A rumble of thunder broke through the sheets of rain, lasting only a few seconds. However, the disadvantage of a brief moment did not bother this god. He used his time wisely by rattling the floorboards underneath Laurens.  

The sky's ferocious snarling quieted permitting Laurens to make out another tormented whine behind the wooden door.  

He tapped his knuckles against the door. Not enough to alarm Alexander, but enough to alert him of Laurens' presence.  

Laurens' heart sank when a weak, "who is it?" answered him.  

Laurens put his hand on the door, and said, "It's Laurens..." he hesitated.