— the angel —
ALL SIGNS OF boyishness were gone from Will, his face and body hardened by masculinity. He was dreadfully handsome, with hooded eyes and dark eyebrows, symmetrical features, a strong, square jaw and a straight nose.
Giselle's gaze soon drifted off. He had an athletic physique, his muscles apparent under the white button-up and brown vest he wore with matching brown pants.
"Why are neither of you speaking?" Frank asked after a considerably long stretch of silence had passed.
"Uh, Hello, Miss Saunders," Will said at last, quickly averting his gaze. There was something about the way he formally said her name that agitated her, but also warmed her. He remembers my name.
"Hello, Will," she replied back, avoiding the formality in defiance.
He glanced back at her, his eyes slightly narrowed before he called out to his brother, "Frankie, could you go get more wood from the stack outside?"
Frank frowned. "But why?" He looked to the storage rack next to the stove, which was 3/4 of the way full of wood. "We still have enough to last a while."
"Don't argue with me," Will said with all the authority of a parent. "Now, go."
Frank dipped his head in obedience and left, the interaction souring Giselle's mood.
"You didn't have to speak to him so rudely," she said matter-of-factly.
"I'm his guardian, I may speak to him however I choose," Will said casually.
"Just because you can doesn't mean you should," Giselle countered, the teakettle's hiss steadily rising in pitch. Will took it off of the stovetop before it could get any louder, bringing it over to the teacups.
"Well, maybe you should keep your opinion to yourself," he shot back, pouring the hot water into the tea pot.
"But I love expressing my opinion." Giselle smiled bitterly at him. "Especially towards those that hate hearing my opinions."
Will groaned, setting the kettle down on a damp rag before turning to her. "Look," he breathed, testing out a softer tone, "I need you to answer something for me." He looked down at the tiled floor, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter as his dark eyebrows pulled low in thought.
He suddenly pushed off the counter and crossed the room, coming to take a seat in front of her at the table. Even when he was sitting, he still took a while to finally speak, his eyes latching onto hers when he did. "How did you disappear like that?"
Giselle frowned, her petty mood slowly fading. The word disappear poked at her brain strangely. "Huh?"
"Don't play with me. Seven years ago I saw you disappear into thin air. How did you do it?" The desperate intensity in his eyes alarmed her. It looked like he needed the answer more than he wanted it.
"Uh, I really don't understand what you're talking about," she informed him. "What exactly did you see?"
"After you ran off that day—when we spoke about the crash—I followed you," he started off. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior, but I wasn't able to reach you because as soon as you touched that tree, you vanished without a trace. And then—and then a flock of birds flew out of the tree immediately after."
He shook his head, looking out of the window to his left. "It's been plaguing me for years now, and I can't decide which of my theories is the most plausible. I've been waiting for you to come back so that I can ask you," he looked back to her, "but now I see that you think I'm as crazy as I do."
She just stared at him, letting the new information settle in her brain. "Did you see any snails or bugs on the tree?"
"No. I ran off as soon as the birds took flight. I actually haven't been back since," he admitted.
The strange occurrence from earlier pushed to the forefront of Giselle's mind, as did some of the theories she didn't want to think about.
"I don't remember disappearing, per se," she started, "but there is something real odd about that tree. It's like," she paused, cutting her eyes away from him as she debated on continuing, "every time I'm around it, I end up fainting or blacking out and wake up on the ground. But before that, it's like the tree is calling me to it. And when I go to it, birds are on the branches and snails and bugs are wrapped around it. It's like super weird."
"The tree is 'calling you to it?'" he said in blatant disbelief.
She shot him a look. "You saw me disappear into 'thin air' and yet you don't believe that this magical tree calls me to it?" Even saying the words 'magical tree' made her feel silly.
He crossed his muscled arms back over his chest, leaning back in his seat. "I'm a man of science, not magic. There has to be a scientific explanation for this phenomenon, and not some magical little fantasy you made up in your head."
She sat forward, glaring at him. She'd never met a person so infuriating in her life. "It's not a magical fantasy, I'm telling you exactly what happened to me."
"If you say so," Will shrugged, picking up the tea pot and holding the lid as he poured the tea into the cups.
Frank came in before Giselle was able to say something back, the poor boy struggling to carry a load of firewood in his arms.
"So, Miss Saunders, how long do you plan on staying with us?" Will asked, letting Giselle know that their previous conversation was done but not to be forgotten.
"Oh, not too long, I guess." She bit at her lip, realizing that it must be nearing time for her family to leave for their dinner. "I actually need to be heading back in a few minutes. I have somewhere I need to be."
"Oh, where are you going?" Frank inquired curiously, coming to sit next to Will across the table from Giselle.
Will elbowed his brother. "You're being nosy, and are you going to offer her any milk or sugar for her tea?"
Frank's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I forgot!" He hurried off to scrounge together the milk and sugar as Giselle shot a glare at Will.
"You're a very rude person."
He gave a her brisk nod. "So you've been saying." He leaned forward. "Out of curiosity; what are you doing tonight?"
She turned away from him to look out of the window. "That is none of your business, and is quite nosy of you to ask."
The corner of his lips lifted slightly. "And rude, too?"
"Very rude."
"Here," Frank said as he set down a small porcelain pot of sugar and a tiny pitcher of milk in front of her.
"Thanks, Frank," Giselle smiled to the boy. She picked up the milk and poured just a splash into the steaming cup of tea before adding enough sugar to earn a judgmental look from Will.
Will passed the other cup over to Frank, who added a little sugar and the tiniest bit of milk.
"Mhm, this is good tea," Giselle told the young boy after taking her first sip, her pinky lifted on its on accord.
Frank smiled behind the rim of his delicate cup. "Thank you," he said, "my aunt taught me." He turned to his brother. "Can I go get her? She would love to meet Giselle."
"Don't pester her, she's upstairs helping the kids with homework," Will replied, "and you better have these dishes cleaned by the time she comes down." Frank bobbed his head in understanding, taking another sip of his tea.
Giselle finished up her tea before Frank, a glance at the clock telling her that she needed to get back.
If she even could.
"Um, Will," she began, setting her teacup down and pushing it away, "I need help getting back to my house. Do you mind showing me the way back? I kind of got lost in the woods."
"Not at all," Will said, rising from his chair. "Stay here, Frankie." He started towards the back door that Frank and Giselle had entered through.
Giselle quickly stood, smiling down at Frank. "Thanks for the tea, Frank. It was delicious!"
"You're welcome, come back anytime!" The boy called after her as she followed Will's long strides.
He was out of the door and halfway towards the forest before she finally caught up to him.
"Where exactly do you live? The closest house is nearly a quarter of an hour on foot."
"Well I don't really live there. It's my Aunt Hester's house, I'm just visiting. It's on Newberry Road, and it's only a short walk from here—like five minutes."
Will paused, glancing at her. "I've never heard of Newberry Road, and if there was a house that close to mine, I would know about it. Gentilly is a small town, I know everyone who lives here. And I've never met anyone named Hester."
"Well she and her house exist," Giselle informed him, though her confidence was waning. She wasn't even sure if Hester existed anymore. "But . . ." She looked to him, her steps slowing as she thought about telling him her strange predicament. "Um, so, something happened," she told him. "Something tree-related, I believe."
He matched her pace, looking over to her curiously. "What happened?"
"Okay, um, where do I begin?" She bit at her lip in thought before speaking. "So I was with my dad like twenty minutes ago—we were going to the cherry trees and then we came across the tree. A bunch of birds were in the branches, and the snails and bugs that I told you about were on crawling along the trunk." She sighed, shaking her head. "My dad told me not to go near it—seemed really freaked out by it, actually—but I didn't listen."
She met his eyes. "I touched the tree. Blacked out, then woke up. Now, I can't find my dad anywhere and my aunt's house is completely gone." She laughed suddenly. "Oh, gosh, I'm going to look like a complete lunatic if we go back to where it's supposed to be and it's there this time."
Will looked at her bizarrely. "You already sound like a lunatic."
She sent him a glare. "This is serious. I'm really freaked out here."
"Look," Will stopped, turning to her. "It was a trick wasn't it? Like a magic trick. That's how you disappeared, right? And all of this vanishing house nonsense is a joke, correct?"
"What? No!" Giselle nearly yelled. "I know I sound crazy, but I'm being serious! I think this is all just as insane as you do, but that doesn't make it any less true!"
They were past the tree now, coming up to the broken angel statue—no—the fully intact angel statue. In perfect condition. Pristine.
"What?" Giselle breathed out, stopping in her tracks. "But . . . her wing is supposed to be missing. And-and there was dirt and stuff all over her . . ." She looked over to Will, who was eyeing her cautiously. "Something is really wrong here."
"I'm starting to think that that something is your mind," Will commented, earning a scowl from Giselle.
"I'm not crazy!" she practically screeched. "There is something very, very wrong here, and it has something to do with that stupid tree!" She pointed an accusatory finger towards the large tree. "It's like I'm in another realm or something!" She covered her face with her hands, letting out a haggard breath of frustration.
"Look, I think it would be best for you to get some proper help—"
"I said I'm NOT CRAZY!" Giselle yelled in his face, her blue eyes wild enough to contradict her exclamation.
The sound of twigs snapping and leaves crunching nearby caused the pair to swivel their heads towards the noise. There was a tall, middle-aged woman coming to a stop before them. Her graying blond hair was short and curly, and her eyes were as blue as the periwinkle dress she wore.
Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling at a pace that was faster than what was considered normal. It seemed like she had run there.
"Are you Giselle Saunders?" she questioned, sounding breathless.
"Um, yes ma'am," Giselle answered. "How do you know my name?"
The woman brushed Giselle's question aside with one of her own. "And your father is George Saunders?"
"Yes ma'am . . ."
"Is-is Hester Chapman still alive?"
Giselle nodded. "My family and I are staying with her."
The woman seemed to relax slightly, taking several seconds to just breathe. "And, did you happen to touch that tree?" She jabbed a thumb at the tree.
"Yeah."
"Why do you know her?" Will asked. "Is she a relative of yours?"
The woman nodded. "I'm her second cousin."
Giselle's eyes went wide. "Selene?"
Selene smiled, looking at the young adults in front of her, shaking her head as if she knew something they didn't. "Come inside. We've got lots to discuss."
• • • • • • • • • • •
Word count: 2,199 words.
Question: Where is the worst-smelling place you have been?
New Orleans smells nasty. Not all of New Orleans smells bad, just certain streets. Some smell like sewage water, which is the main smell, others smell like bodily fluids—no joke I saw a man literally pee on a wall right in front of me in Jackson Square in broad daylight and everything, then he went and shook a tourist's hand.
I guess the moral of the story is that when you go to New Orleans, don't shake anyone's hand and watch where you walk.
PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT TO MAKE ME SMILE!!!