SCRATCHED

Chapter 15

2020, Foyl Woods.

There was something odd about the sky.

It was still blue. Still bright. He saw the whiteness of the clouds hovering above. He heard the flapping of wings and the chirp of birds. But something was not right about the sky. He could feel it.

Aiden had skipped breakfast, again. Uncle Mike was making pancakes. He hated pancakes, so he decided to go for a walk in the woods. It was either that or shooting practice, but then he would have to expect Henric to break the silence of his solitude, what he needed most at the moment.

He gently went down the slope and into the cool shades. It was quiet down there. He could feel the chirping of the birds slowly fading. He walked until he saw the arrow he had fired the previous day. He went up to the tree and tried to pull it out, but it was firm. And he needed the little morning energy he had for the walk, and the thoughts.

Last night was a blur. He woke up remembering nothing of it. Wait, how did I wake up?

He had no memory of getting out of bed. He could remember shooting the arrow, Uncle Mike's prank and walking into the house but after that it was all a fog. He shook his head. I must've been really tired, he thought.

He still felt it, the tiredness, circulating with the blood in his body, weighing him down as he walked. He hadn't yawned, though he could feel it stuck somewhere in his throat. His eyes were alive and clear. It was just the tiredness, sticking to him as if he hadn't had any sleep.

Finding himself suddenly before a lake, Aiden thought he must've walked into the wrong woods. From above there was no sign of a lake or any body of water. But he was too glad to care.

It was a beautiful kind of silence, often interrupted by soft ripples on the shiny water. From here he could hear the chirping of the birds again. He could see them in the sky, circling the lake, the water reflecting their motion in artistic patterns.

There was a house sitting quietly at the far end of the lake. If it wasn't for the young lady who knelt, waving her hands in the water, he wouldn't have noticed it.

It seemed like a motion picture. The way she repeated the waving sequence was exactly the same. He moved closer, his soles sounding against the pebbles. She didn't seem to hear or notice him coming.

He was close enough for his shadow to touch her kneeling frame, but for some reason he could see neither his nor her shadow. It was just them under the holy brightness.

"Umm.. hello," he said with great effort.

Her hand stopped moving. She lifted her head and rested her eyes on his morning face. His heart stopped in his chest, like her hand in the water. It was-

"Amy?"

"Aiden?" She stood. "You're- you're real? You're actually here?"

She touched his sleeve, then gave his arm a little squeeze.

Aiden smiled. "Flesh and blood."

They embraced, like the sky and the clouds. Long and soft. Tender and subtle. She breathed in his scent and realized how badly she had missed him.

"Thank God you're alive," she spoke over his shoulder.

Aiden found himself tongue-tied and paralyzed. He couldn't move, talk or breathe. Strands of her hair glistened before his eyes. It smelled like a perfect blend of vanilla with a touch of cocoa, some honey and a magical sprinkle of lavender. He quickly realized he didn't know those things, but here he was, recognizing their heavenly smell in her hair.