Chapter 8 Carwynn
CARWYNN
Ever since I was little, I had a deep gut sense of things.
An unexplainable sense you’d get when your stomach twisted in dread, knowing something bad was about to happen.
I called it my inkling. As if the world was made up of invisible little strings, connecting everything and everyone together—and my inkling could feel them.
Sometimes, I felt it too, as if my inkling was a living thing, getting my attention by tugging.
My house was just past the cemetery. An old stone wall acted as our fence, separating us from the tombstones.
The old graveyard was, by far, my favorite part of town and I often walked there.
It was peaceful, like the ease you’d feel at home.
But occasionally, I’d hear them—the whispers.
They started when I was little, just after having moved in with my foster mom.
Summers were hard when the windows were always open.
The mumblings would echo in my room. I was horrified at first. My foster mom and doctor thought it was just night terrors.
But like pinching the same spot on your skin over and over, it numbed over time, whispers becoming just a normal part of my day.
I kept quiet about it. I didn’t fit in at school already, so an extra target on my back was the last thing I wanted.
My feet crunched the gravel as I turned on my road. Thick forest surrounded me, rustling with life. Evergreens loomed above. I imagined them as my giant, piney protectors, guiding me safely home.
My eyes caught on some wildflowers, appreciating their red hues.
I’d always loved plants and flowers. Not that I was any good at growing them though. Part of me felt connected, as if each one was a living creature, holding meaning and emotion.
Then the back of my neck tickled. I spun around, catching a glimpse of a feathery, white wing disappearing behind a tree.
Strange. What kind of bird was that? Dove?
I crept forward, feeling an invisible rope in my gut go taut.
A faint child’s giggle echoed.
Ew! So creepy!
I envisioned a botched-faced, haunted doll dragging me into the woods.
Hell freaking no . . .
I took a step back, knowing all too well from all the horror movies I’d watched, what happened to the people who got too curious.
Tug.
Tug.
My hand clutched my stomach, hoping the pull would stop.
Darn it. It’s probably nothing. Don’t be a coward.
Tiptoeing forward, I looked around the trunk of the tree, then froze, stunned.
“What the—”
A baby! It was a freaking baby!
I looked around, but no one was nearby.
Flashes of my own abandonment as a child stung my thoughts.
It looked up at me with big honey-gold eyes and a toothy smile.
Fair skin, tuffs of curly blonde peach fuzz, and red chubby cheeks. It was so stinking cute! Total cuteness overload. I wanted to kiss those big fat rosy cheeks! Oh my god—its rolls! Its wrists had rolls! Its rolls had rolls! How was that even possible?
I attempted to pull myself together.
“Hi,” I said sheepishly. “Are—are you okay?”
Golden eyes illuminated, staring into my soul. It studied my face, lips curling upward as its rosy cheeks protruded. The baby was on the ground in front of me wearing a strange white silky robe.
Weird.
Was it a boy?
Shifting, it stood up.
My mouth hit the floor.
Wings! What in the world…
Amusement danced on his chubby face. Slowly, he shimmied his little shoulders and soft wings fluttered open.
Not knowing if I’d gone insane, my mind sputtered like an antique engine, struck stupid.
“What—oh, god. What are you?!” I asked.
“Bb-b-b-b-bb . . . yah-yah!” He babbled, frantically flailing his arms.
He let out a high-pitched giggle, then clapped his hands.
In the blink of an eye, he hovered above the ground, fluttering right up to me with pudgy hands extended. They cupped my face, almost lovingly.
They were so warm, melting right into my heart, solidifying something deep.
Then, he lowered his forehead to mine, sharing a sweet moment of affection.
I was too nervous to move.
Pulling back, he booped me on the nose with a tiny finger. Like, actually booped me.
Losing rational thoughts, I tried again. “Do you need help?”
His gaze dropped to his closed fist. Opening it, a ring appeared. It was a simple, purple gemstone. A mischievous grin pulled at his mouth which made me a little uneasy.
Without warning—the ring was chucked right at my face, hitting me square in the forehead.
Thump!
“Ouch!” I yelped, taking a staggered step back to rub at my head. “Hey! What was that for?”
Devious giggles escaped his rosebud lips before he flew in circles around me. Halting at eye level, he booped my nose once again.
He suddenly spun around, shooting off like a hummingbird, disappearing.
What the . . .
I glanced down. The light winked up at me, reflecting off the purple gemstone. Bending down, I picked it up. Such a pretty shade of deep violet.
Curiosity got the best of me as I slipped it on.
No way. It fit!
I wiggled my fingers, watching the stone sparkle.
I loved it.
My feet hustled home as fast as my mind reeled.
Had I completely gone mad? Maybe my daydreaming had taken on a new level, and I’d made the whole thing up.
But the weight on my finger proved otherwise.
I was relieved to find a note from my foster mom saying she was working late again. More time to figure out what I’d tell her. How I’d explain the ring.
Wild scenarios played out in my head as I pulled the covers up and settled into bed. By morning, I hoped I’d have a story convincing enough not to be deemed a thief, or a lunatic.
Eyelids heavy, my mouth ticked up. I had a feeling my dreams would be swarmed with rosy cheeks and feathery wings.