Undying #Wattys2015

Chapter 8: The Black Haired Boy

Memory of Aiden Kendlewood:

Burning. I am burning. The lightning of my memories are ripping through my thoughts, striking everything in its wake. My thoughts expand like warm air, and I descend into my past. I'm spiraling.

Then I saw him, a young boy sitting against the cherry tree in a field of golden grass. His deep black hair hung loosely over his lightning blue eyes and some of his hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. His eyes were deeply focused on a book laid out over his crossed knees. With those eyes, he could look into your soul and see your greatest weakness. His face was featured perfectly, as if by the hands of a sculpture that made sure he would represent the beauty of all of humanity. The sun's afternoon light filled the sky and covered the land as a blanket of warmth.

He was beautiful on the outside. But his soul was as dark as his heart.

Only now, I notice a boy sitting next to him against the cherry tree. He is ripping the golden wheat from the ground, and weaving them into a rope. His auburn hair was messy and untamed, and his uniform was worn out. He had warm brown eyes, which he used to occasionally glance at the textbook, and sometimes even sneak a peek at the black haired boy. Who could resist looking at that boy? Yet no one looked at him too long, afraid that he would notice.

He was perfect. And he knew it.

The boy with night black hair was quiet, as the other boy chattered away. It was as if he could speak endlessly into the void, and still be content if the void didn't echo a response. He was glad though, to have the black haired boy's company. There was a bond between them, a bond that could never be broken.

Standing away from them, looking back at this memory, I cannot help but become overtaken by grief and regret. How could I have trusted him? He betrayed me. But how could I have thought that such a perfect boy could be such a monster?

Then, at the corner of my eye, I noticed movement, the weak fluttering of a small, winged creature. I turned my head to clearly see it. There it was, a beautiful azure butterfly. I reached for it, but it evaded my fingers, like water flowing through a creek. It continued its awkward path toward the two boys leaning against the tree. Attracted to the black haired boy, it landed on the edge of his book. For once, the boy lifted his eyes to watch at the butterfly. He tenderly extended his finger, and the butterfly crawled on top of it. His eyes were filled with awe at the design of its wings, which shined like sapphire gems. The brown haired boy watched him carefully, almost expecting him to hurt the butterfly, or kill it. But instead, the black haired boy extended his finger into the sky and let the wind take the butterfly away from him.

Is he a monster?