Little Boy Lost

by Collosus

In the rural town of Lavella, lays the lonely one. His body is decomposed but his soul remains; while still wandering the fields that once were autumn skies. Perhaps he could find the strength to leave if his own mother knew where he was slain, but alas. She sleeps with the very man who took away her baby boy.

He was murdered outside the church.

As bright as the sun, when he walked, he walked with joy; brought it where he ran, where he crawled, where he talked, and where he stepped. And even when he slept he shone.

And in his eyes were the stars.

Little Boy Slaughtered—wanted to be Father Hennesey's pastor.

But Little Boy Lonely—at the age of ten—fell in love.

And in the Garden of Eden, the field in which Father Hennesy would read to him, and play with him, and tell him that the world was his— brought upon the wrath of God, and cleansed him.

Purified him.

For a pastor could not fall in love.

Not in Lavella…and not anywhere he was told.

Though, perhaps it was the wrath of Hennesey's own hand that took away his tender life. And perhaps God had not been quite angry with him at all.

Perhaps he had to die.

Perhaps it had always been written that way.

But this field was cold at night. And even colder when it rained. And when it snowed.

And every day that passed, this little boy sat wondering. Growing older in the afterlife. Each hour and every echo, nobody ever came for him. And not a single angel in the sky.

But he could lie in the fields as long as he wanted now.

Not worry about his mother calling to him and wondering why he wasn't home in time for dinner. He would never have to worry about his father's constant yelling. Or the other children pointing at him. Or his teachers shaking their heads at him.

Perhaps God knew what he was doing when he told Father Hennesy to bring that brick across his head.

But it'd be a lot easier to accept if only He were here with him.

Because this field was lonely. And even lonelier as the days were long.

It was harder to accept now as he sat upon his messy grave of rocks and tumbleweed. He had not a single stone to mark his name or tell his place, and yet Little Boy Lost could always find exactly where his body rested.

Though, sometimes in the night, Father Hennesy would come to him and cry.

Apologize for doing what he had to.

For touching him the way he did so many years ago.

For being his last kiss when it should've been his mother's.

Little Boy Forgiving always accepted his tears—but the man always left in the morning with even sadder eyes than before. And Little Boy Knowing could do nothing to let him know that he wasn't angry anymore.

And that he had never been.

Little Boy Autumn Sky wasn't little anymore though. And for five more years on the day that he died, he sat a young man on the hills in which he left the world.

Though he looked for God for those five years.

And he prayed for five long years.

And he waited.

Waited.

But not a single Angel came to take him home.