The Blessed Child

Part II: A Roll of the Eyes

Here's the second part! Now, just so no confusion, this part is in a different POV. A guy and in first person. :) Hope its getting better now! Also, to clear up some (more) confusion. The only bit of Part II where he speaks in 2nd person to a "you" is where he's lost in his memories.. :D Other times it'll still be first person but not speaking to "you". Any guesses who "you" is? You're probably wrong whatever your guess is. (She's only saying that because she knows you're probably right but she wants to throw you off) Hey! Stop that Keira! Yes I do talk to myself. Oh shoot. I shouldn't talk to myself. Otherwise It'll make me look even more like a psychopath! Go and READ!

You'll notice there are "___" That's where his name should be... But I can't think of anything... Either:  Jayce,  Asher, Quincy, or something. It would be awesome if you (reader) could comment and reply what name you like best. Thanks!

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What am I doing?

I stumbled under her weight. Some of her blood was trickling down my cheek. Gritting my teeth, I walked on. Why did I pick her up? My job was to see her dead.

No matter how revolting that prospect was. That was what I had set out to do.

So why did I help her?

I didn't pay attention to my surroundings, my feet knowing the path better than my head. My muscles were slightly strained. She wasn't moving, and if not for her steady sleep drenched sound of her breathing, she couldn've been dead.

A dead I almost wished she was. 

Come on, Asher! Stop being so nostalgic. It ain't like you.

Well nothing was like what it usually is today.

The forest was dense of shrubs and no color. It was boring, banal, empty. A devoid landscape, long forgotten, long forsaken, never forgiven. It told stories no bard ever dare write down. It held mysteries and it was a place went by either bravest heroes or the stupidest fools. What does that make me then? 

Ma was dead. And this girl...

The girl groaned. I readjusted her position on my shoulder and marched onwards, lost in these thoughts. Lost in the memories....

 ***

It was always a bigger plan. A bigger picture. It was never some small trivial problem. I never realized that of course. No not me, the village boy who only worried about firewood, and survival. I never could have though that there was a bigger plan.

A bigger problem.

My tiny village was my tiny life. Until you came along. But before then, it was the tiny controversial problems of my tiny life in a tiny village.

Ma died. Demons killed her. That's the first thing you have to understand. That's the first tiny problem that changed everything. I hurt. I hurt so much that even when I tried to burn myself, the pain of my burning flesh didn't hurt as much as the pain to think the words, "Ma's gone. She's not coming home. It's never going to snow. Never."

It always snowed right before ma came home. She would go off to other villages for most of the year. It didn't matter because I knew she was coming back. And right before she would come home, the snow would come in. Like hope, like a harbinger of her homecoming.

Now, it will never snow again.

For there is no hope.

I started thinking about everything I should've done. For her. For me. For Dan.