A Castle Made Of Dreams

IT HAD BEEN three days since Wallace had last seen the girl in the green dress. Honestly, with the time that had passed and the events that had unfolded since, he had long pushed the encounter to the back of his mind.

After handing the golden necklace to Wallace, Paige had left without another word. She simply saluted the young man with a smile before disappearing down the street. When Wallace had run out after her, wishing to ask about the reason behind the strange gift, she had already disappeared like a shadow into the dark.

However, when Friday rolled about and he stepped out of the pub he worked at to get a bit of fresh air, he noticed a familiar flash of emerald, red, and black. In the dark, the shadowy figure dodged and ducked, scurrying through alleyways and creeping down the streets. With his curiosity raised, Wallace decided to follow after the figure, the golden acorn pendant that dangled from his neck feeling extraordinarily heavy all of a sudden.

His hand instinctively moved to clutch the pendant, feet moving before he even noticed as he ran after the familiar figure.

Through the night, the shadow curved corners, ducked under fences, and jumped over roofs. Her movements were so extravagant and random that Wallace initially thought that she was leading him on a wild goose chase. More often than not, he had to take the long way around simply because the moves she did to get from one place to another could not be replicated by him.

However, he stopped where he stood once he finally caught up with her. Under the glow of the oil lamp, a little boy crouched with his head in his knees and shoulders quaking with whimpers. The child sobbed endlessly, not knowing that a shadowy figure was approaching him.

From where he stood, Wallace watched as Paige pulled her hat down so that it hung from her neck like a hood, the ribbons that he had seen for her keeping the hat in place around her neck. Gently, Paige placed a hand on the sobbing boy’s shoulders, rubbing it gently as the child looked up.

“Who are you?” the child asked, voice cracking.

“It matters not who I am but rather who you are. Why are you here? Where are your parents?” came Paige’s reply.

The boy’s head spun back to face ahead of him, eyes rimmed red and snot trickling down his nostrils. He breathed in deeply just as Paige handed him a handkerchief. Cotton dabbed against his skin, wiping the grime away from his round face and it dried his tears momentarily.

“They’re dead. They died long ago and I live with my aunt.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I hate my aunt!” All of a sudden, the boy yelled. His eyebrows were scrunched downwards, eyes lit with anger and hurt. “All she ever does is hit me and hurt me! I don’t want to live with her anymore!”

As the boy spoke, his arms flailed about. The sleeves of his shirt were raised with the movement and Wallace could see red marks down porcelain skin, the edges of the lines colored a ghastly black and blue. There were more bruises on the boy’s arms than Wallace could count and he bet that there were more hidden beneath his shirt.

Wallace, however, could not see Paige’s expression. The girl was silent for a while, her grip on the little lost boy’s shoulder tightening before it relaxed. With a deep breath, her head was raised along with her hand, fingers ruffling the boy’s charcoal hair.

“Would you like to leave this place, then? Leave this forsaken town and live in a land far away?”

The question barely left Paige’s lips when Wallace sprinted into action. He fell forward, feet once again moving without permission as a hand landed on Paige’s shoulder.

The sudden movement caused Paige’s shoulders to jerk up instinctively in surprise. However, she did not bother to turn her head to face him. Instead, the smile on her face widened, creating a shadow on her face with the aid of the oil lamp above their heads.

“Wallace,” she greeted, her eyes still on the little boy. Seemingly without a care in the world, her fingers continued to stroke the boy’s head as his cries softened and slowed. Gently, her fingers threaded the strands of the boy’s hair and the boy, in turn, seemed much more at peace. “It’s good to see you again.”