"Oh Bel, sweetheart, look at you!" Ms.Villeneuve cooed. The woman of no older than thirty tilted her head with a motherly smile as the boy's reflection peered up at her from the mirror.
He had the same canary hair as his mother, brighter then, and with a song like voice all the same.
"Can I go now?" He asked in a way that only children can.
The boy's mother rolled her pale green eyes, her hands on the shoulders of his wiry frame. Stray stalks of straw wove in and out of the tattered overalls- some coming out of patches, a few from under his straw hat.
However similar Belmont's hair to his mother's, it was not as handsome a comparison as his matching green eyes, a grassy field under the scope of binoculars in untrained hands.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" She asked, lifting his white mask to plant a kiss on his cheek, leaving the straw to crinkle under her touch.
Like a crustacean retreating into its shell, so too did Bel retract his neck sheepishly at his mother's kiss.
"No maman."
"Oh, you know I'm just pulling your leg,"
At the frigid autumn breeze that crept from the now open door emerged a tall man, hair darker than Bel's, with a cold jaw and warm eyes.
"Céline, I thought we talked about this." He said. The blonde fluttered over to him.
"It's once a year."
"I was working when I was his age." The man replied.
Belmont watched the two adults bicker from the eye holes of his faded white mask. Without them noticing, he adjusted his hat, and slipped out the back door. Their inaudible dispute grew more and more distant.
Hallows' Eve was fairly new to the eleven year old; back home they had their own celebrations. But he could feel adrenaline rushing all the way from his straw hat to the tips of his toes, even as he walked away from the secluded home and into the night.
"I should have been a ghost," The boy thought. "Then I'd be warm, under a blanket."
Suddenly Bel dropped his pillowcase, jumping with a start. A crow fled from the branch of a spindly tree, screeching loudly as it beat its magnificent wings.
With a sigh, Bel retrieved his pillowcase and adjusted his hat, but the relief was short lived. The snickering grew louder as a group of much taller boys whispered amongst themselves, their attention falling on little Belmont, much to his dismay.
"Dutch boy!" The one with the black eyes greeted. His off-colour teeth stood out against the white face. Bel was a fan of clowns- until now.
Silently tossing the case over his shoulder, he turned around to walk the other way.
"...probably doesn't know a lick of English..."
One of the boys mocked.
The four grinned at each other as Belmont proceeded to walk away.
"His pillow case is empty," one of the boys pointed out.
"He can't ask for treats because he doesn't know how." Snickered another.
Bel's green eyes narrowed. He turned around, wanting to say something. But the only sound between them was the singing of crickets. Or maybe it was a warning.
The clown seemed to arrive at a decision, his features distorted with grim delight. He nodded to Bel.
"Since you can't speak, I guess you don't need that filthy tongue of yours."
The others laughed amongst themselves, some wide eyed.
"Why would I want to speak to you?" Bel said.
The other boys looked at each other as the cruellest one stepped forward, his arms folded.
"So it can talk," he said, a smile stretching across his face. Bel stepped back carefully as he advanced, far too close to do anything but run. He didn't.
"In that case," the boy said, watching Bel sink to the ground as his fist met his gut, "tell your mother she's a dirty tramp."
Bel lay on the cold dirt clutching his stomach in pain as the boy walked back to his friends with a triumphant smirk, receiving high fives from all sides and adamant praise, before a rock struck the back of his head, knocking him to the ground, cold.
The boys stared at their friend on the ground, slowly lifting their gaze to the masked child in front of them.
"Holy hell," one blurted, finally trying to get their friend up. "I think he's seeing stars."
Turning him over they saw the impressive wound at the back of his head. In the darkness there was next to no difference between the blood and the black triangles on the clown's face, except for its wet shine.
In that instant, the remaining boys directed their predatorial stares to Bel
and he ran.
The blonde could only make out blue leaves and branches blurring past his field of vision as he ran as fast as he could. The boy was fast. He always had been. But night was cruel, and his mask crueller, because when Bel finally thought he was in the clear, his little lungs pumping to sustain his flight to safety- he landed hard and cold on the forest floor.
Frantically from side to side up and over, Belmont looked for which boy would catch him first.
He pushed himself off the ground with mud caked hands, faint cries in the distance. As he wiped the dirt on his overalls, an irrefutable sensation arose atop his right shoulder, where long fingers gripped firmly.
Bel screamed, staggering to turn around.
But all he could see was forest. And then he knew where he was.
His mother had warned him not to go into the woods late at night. But Hallows' Eve was even more dangerous.
"I'm not going to hurt you." A faint voice startled Bel. The child clutched his pillow case in fear, turning to the source of the echo.
A long blue tail, transparent and much like an upside down flame, danced a foot off the ground. Atop the tail lived the torso of a man, draped in a similarly transparent hooded cloak, small bells draped across his neck.
Bel's green eyes grew to saucers.
"What- who are you?" He stifled. "Why don't you....."
The boy tried to make sense of everything he was seeing, but most frightful of all was perhaps the faceless void half hidden by hood.
The creature pointed at Bel and then at themselves.
"You look a spirit too." They said. Bel felt their voice coming from all directions, near and far, although they were right in front of him.
"Is that what you are?" Bel asked.
The spirit nodded, bells jingling like thousands of tiny hummingbirds beating incandescent wings.
"I am alone."
alone
alone
alone
"What do you want?" Bel asked apprehensively.
"They see I have no eyes," it replied. "I am different."
Bel thought for a while, watching the swaying blue tail.
"Me too."
The creature tilted its head, which was really just a sea of darkness. If it had a face, Bel thought they'd be giving him a curious look.
Suddenly, Bel had an idea.
He took off the white mask his mother made for him (although now it could hardly be called white), and handed it to the spirit after wiping it on his overalls. But the creature just watched.
"You can have this," Bel said. "Wait!"
The eleven year old took out a rather short black crayon that'd been hiding in his overalls. After a moment, he handed it out again. When he saw the creature didn't seem to know what to do with it, Bel stood on his tippy toes, and held the mask up to their face.
Long fingers emerged from the cloak and pulled the string over the other side, so the spirit now wore the mask- with the addition of a crudely drawn smile.
"Now you have a face." Bel said softly.
The spirit touched the mask, gliding both hands over the white cheeks.
"Thank you." They said. Bel could feel gratitude and happiness coming from the voice.
"Don't mention it, I had one lying around." Bel replied.
"Can I return the kindness?" The spirit asked.
Bel looked out at the forest, by the trees he'd run past.
"Walk me home."
Bells jingled as the spirit nodded, and the two set off back.
The child didn't know what he was more afraid of- that he'd run into the older boys again, or his mom's reaction at him getting back so late.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the forest, Bel could see the distant light coming from his home. He turned to the spirit.
"Thank you." It said.
"Thank you," Bel replied, shuffling his feet. "Will I see you again?"
"I have no where to go." The spirit replied.
"I'll see you again." Bel promised, stepping into the poorly lit avenue and making his way back. He waved as the distance between them grew, and the spirit disappeared altogether.
Not to the boy's surprise, his mother was still arguing with her boyfriend. This time it was about something else.
"...thought coming to this country was going to be better-"
"It's not my fault-"
"I never said it was!"
Ms. Villeneuve stared agape at her son, his matching green eyes watching hers from the broken front door.
"Go to bed Bel." She said gently.
The boy began climbing the steps as his mother asked what on earth he did to his overalls, before shrugging and finding his room.
Like most things in his early life, the walls were thin, and poorly built- as were the floors. Bel could hear the muffled voices of the two adults below, even though he was trying to fall asleep.
"I'm going to get drafted and before you know it, he's going to get drafted-"
"What do you suggest?"
"Who's going to keep you alive Céline?"
"I have Bel and that's all that matters."
A door slammed and that was all Bel knew, until the next morning, when Bel was packing his only teddy bear and leaving again.
Autumn. Winter. Spring. Summer. Years passed as the forest changed, like all things do. But somewhere in that town, the depression ended, and the war began. And as every change fled quickly by a certain forest, someone waited, with a smile.
Until the rain came and washed that off too.
~
Happy Halloween everyone, lateness is my speciality, I can only apologize for it. Hope you enjoyed this Halloween special, but don't forget the real special stuff is coming soon. (I'm looking at you 'new chapter.') Thank you so much for reading, today Crimson got 100k reads, which is just incredible. You all make me so happy, thank you for sticking around and for all the support. See you sooner than you think, and later than you hope.
All the love,
~Your number one Fan <3