Something Immortal

Child's Play

     Peter first noticed you just over fourteen years ago, and in a somewhat strange situation. At the time, Peter was already living with Aunt May and Uncle Benjamin. World War One had ended just months before, and life was moving forward as normal. Next to May and Benjamin's neighborhood was a very rich neighborhood. Mansions, automobiles, and perfectly-manicured lawns lined a perfectly smooth street as finely-dressed pips bustled back and forth. The neighborhood that Peter lived in stuck out like a sore thumb among the gorgeous buildings and pathways.

It was a bright, sunny day when Peter first saw you. He was on his way to town with Uncle Ben, and they had to pass through part of your neighborhood. You were sitting outside on the sidewalk, busy coloring something on a piece of paper. You looked so interested in your work, so concentrated, that you stuck out among the people that hurried back and forth along the street trying to get their work done quickly. You noticed Peter staring at you and waved at him. Quicker than lightning, your father was outside, grabbing your hand, and dragging you back into your house. Peter was confused. What had he done wrong? Then, he and Ben started to pass your house. Peter noticed that you had been forced to leave your picture behind. People had even begun to trod on it, ignoring the paper beneath their feet.

He didn't even think about it. Peter let go of Ben's hand, ran over to the sidewalk and scooped up your picture. When he walked back to Ben, his Uncle looked at him in a strange way.

"What are you gonna do with that, Pete?" Uncle Ben asked him.

"Give it back to her," he replied. "It was mean of people to ruin it."

Uncle Ben nodded. "Good idea, Pete."

...

You were sitting in your room, feeling sad that you hadn't been able to grab your picture before your father had brought you inside. But, you were also sad because of what he had told you. That she shouldn't talk to the small, poor boy that passed by her house every so often, because it would bring bad luck to the family. Of course, that's what your father had said. Your mother tried to convince him that there was no harm, but, of course, her voice always went unheard.

Your father had gone to work about an hour ago. It was just you and your mother. Suddenly, there was a knock at your door.

"Y/N, can you please get that, dear?" your mother called.

You nodded, jumping off of your bed and running down the stairs. You struggled to reach the doorknob but you managed. When you opened the door, you saw a small, skinny boy that had to be barely older than you. He already had glasses, and they were nearly bigger than his face. In his hands was a piece of paper.

"My picture!" you exclaimed excitedly, grabbing it from his hands. "Thank you!"

A tiny smile. "I found it outside. It looks very nice. It's...purple, right?"

You were confused. "No. I have blue and green on my picture."

"I can't see colors," he explained, sighing.

"Oh," you said quietly. "I could tell you about them, if you want me to."

He nodded vigorously. "I would like that. My name is Peter."

"Mine is Y/N," you told him.

At the top of the stairs, your mom was watching the both of you, a smile on her face.

...

"Okay," you started, laying out your ten-pack of crayons and picking the first one up. "This is blue. It's sort of cold."