The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Trespasser

Damien would surely leave him to die if such a thing happened, but still Teddy figured that'd be better than being alone. Teddy spent most of his time alone. It wasn't that Teddy was afraid of the dark, though maybe deep down he was, but rather that there was this dark feeling of despair, of loneliness, of longing, that usually overcame him in the night.

"I've got things to do, you know? You think Margaret is waiting around for just anyone?" Damien continued.

"Of course not."

"You're damn right. And instead of being with my best girl, I'm stuck with some whiny little kid who needs me to do everything for him." Damien crossed his arms.

"That sounds awful."

"I was talking about you." Damien narrowed his eyes.

"I'm aware."

"I mean maybe if you could be of use for on-" Damien began, but Teddy in a huff of bravery cut him off unable to listen to his lamentations for any longer.

"Why don't you just go off to Margaret and I'll tell Fr. Charles that you stayed with me the whole morning, then got called off by your father after walking me home?"

"I... You won't tell Fr. Charles I left?" Damien questioned. His face told him what Teddy already knew he was thinking. He was thinking he couldn't believe the son of a priest was proclaiming rebellion.

"Not a word. I promise." Teddy swore, and his word was like a lock of steel.

"You're right not a word, cause if you do, I'll make sure it's the last word you ever say." Damien finished his threat, no intention of making good upon it, then ran off back into the village.

"Go on and do it then." Teddy mumbled. It wasn't like he had very much to say regardless, so he wasn't sure if he ought to even care. Still, Teddy was relieved to have the boy gone. It was a kind of peace he only found alone. He longed often to be alone, without babysitters watching out for his seventeen year old interests, or Fr. Charles finding random jobs to force him to.        It was nice to be alone. There was a sort of solace to loneliness. A sort of independence that came along with it. Teddy was only allowed brief moments of solitude under Fr. Charles doting care, so he cherished them as they came along. Being alone gave the boy a chance to appreciate what might be obscured by the focus on another. That peace wouldn't last, though, Teddy could somehow never carry it into the night even though that's when he was alone.

The small boy paused to take a break and wipe his brow against a tree. Years of access caution and moderation of food had left Teddy a sickly boy, and he fell out of breath very quickly. He already had more than enough cranberries, though he dreaded making his way back to his convent home where many more questions and figures would be waiting for him.

The air was slightly crisp in the Autumn day and the colored leaves drifted down around his ears. Teddy's cheeks were dusted with pink from the sharp chill that pierced the evening air. In the distance he could see the stone wall of Aldersdale; a town which contained his entire existence. True, Teddy had never been farther from the village than out to the clearing and back, but he was mostly content with his simple little life.  It seemed to him that everything he needed was already there.

Smoke drifted lazily up from the chimneys between the gabled peaks of the village houses and added to the puffy white clouds. Teddy could tell what the buildings were even from his spot; the house with the heaviest smoke was the baker, hard at work at the bread for the day, and the one with the lightest amount of smoke was the Widow Alfreds, who had a pension for the colder weather. Of course, the building that stood out most of all was Teddy's home, characterized by the high steeple of the village Church. Our Lady, Star of the Sea was the tallest building in town and the home of Teddy's caretaker Fr. Charles.