The Guardians never existed in the flesh.
In memory, oh most definitely, especially in the minds of two children.
The Four came about when Jamie told Sophie on her bedside about them.
North, with his accent and his swords, was based off a beloved relative who was generous with his affection and gifts, if not a little eccentric, for his affectation for wearing red and wearing weaponry on him.
Toothiana? Their orthodontist. She wore seven colors in her hair, and even streaked her own daughter's hair. She was always bubbly and cheerful with a fierce, protective interior.
Bunnymund was the blue stuffed rabbit Sophie always hugged in bed, a parting gift from their estranged father, who left for Australia and used to paint eggs with them before left Jamie boomerangs.
Sandman, or "Sandy" as he is more affectionately known, was a mute blond haired street artist always dressed in yellow, and who always drew a beautiful sketch for a few coins for Sophie's birthday.
Jack Frost was a recent addition Jamie made up. I believe it was a way of handling his survivor's guilt.
You see, Jack Frost saves his beloved sister-only to die in her place.
Jamie doesn't really say it out loud, but he wishes he could trade places with her any day.
That she would be running after butterflies with their greyhound Abby,wearing her pink faerie wings instead of lying comatose like a butterfly caught in a web of IV tubes.
He didn't get to her fast enough. He almost fell in too if not for a teenage boy grabbing him off the ice.
So everyday, after school, he and his mother goes to the private room in the Children's Section in the Burgess Hospital and holding her hand, regales her about the Guardians.
Recently however, he has been telling her stories about the Nightmare King, the Boogeyman, how he's just a bad dream in spite of how scary he is, that she shouldn't listen to him.
It's a little hurtful yet amusing however, that this boy views me in such a negative light.
After all, I'm only the pediatrician assigned to boy must have viewed my name tag and assigned it to this new player in the game.
I understand his resentment to me however.I seldom come with good news and have once spoke with his mother about pulling the plug-not a decision I look forward to but it seems cruel to prolong what seems to be the inevitable.
The father - yes, apparently that part was added into the boy's story, thanks to the locket I wear round my neck-in me balks at such a decision however, and hopes that she will one day open her eyes and run again.
Hope can be such a cruel thing.
They are there, almost like clockwork, when I make my rounds.
"Good evening Ms. Bennett, hello Jamie."
The mother greets me warmly, the boy mumbles halfheartedly, not taking his eyes off his sister.
"Good evening, ."
"Please, call me Kozmotis."
