Mama
The room is dark. To dark. There was a little boy laying silently in his huge bed, where another dozen of children could fit in. He could make out the lines and the curves of his toys where different shades of dark contrasted.
It was silent before but know there are sounds. They make their way from outside because inside it's always quiet. Small raindrops splash against his window, leaving ticking sounds to confirm that there is still life, outside the room where everything is breathing but inside it's always still.
"Tik, tik, tik." The boy hummed while now rocking his knees to his chest. "It's like a song."
What song?
"A song.. I used to hear."
Where?
One of his toys, a wooden object shaped as a soldier that's never been played with, got up from his place to move near the bed, it also appeared larger than it's usual form.
"It doesn't matter."
Why?
"Because I used to hear it when I was a child."
The toy laughed, a short laugh with his head thrown back, then he looked at the boy again with his blue painted eyes.
What are you know?
"Not a child!" The small boy lifted from his bed and stood up on the mattress, "I'm.. I'm bigger now."
The fiery emeralds, young and colourful looked at the widow as he was recalling memories, his head lifted up and his body standing straight in a proud stance.
"Someone used to sing it when I was scared.. at night."
Are you scared now?
The boy's small head moved down, golden blonde locks falling down his face, his eyes now directed at the bed. "No.."
A few large steps were taken until the toy soldier could sit on the edge of the large sized bed. Its wooden hands placed on his knees while his head was turned slightly to the boy.
No?
"It's just.. so cold," the boy lowered him self on his knees then he dragged them over the bed, wrinkling the neat soft blankets on his way, he stopped when he was closer to the toy. "August?"
Hmmm?
"Do you have a mother?"
August, the wooden toy, laughed heartily again at the stupidity of the question. His carved in lips lined in a bow as a smile, finally he hears a child speak.
We all have mothers.
"Do you miss her?"
Sure. Do you?
The shoulders of the small boy raised in a long shrug, "she's always been busy. She's very important you know!"
He pulled on his long nightshirt, "uncle says if I do my best she'll come visit me. But she's very busy with.. important.. matters."
What about your brothers?
"They're with their fathers, mine isn't in this world. I got uncle though. If I'll do my best I'm going to be a very strong soldier, he says. I'll.. I'll look like you!"
Hard as wood.
"But.. I don't want to be to hard." Tiny fingers buried themselves in the blue fabric of the wooden soldier's clothes while his head rested on the arm of it. "Can't you be soft too?"
The face of wood moved down to see a head full of blonde curls resting against his body. He wasn't made to be soft and he can't bend his wooden fingers to trail them down those fair curls.
"They're so strict.. but I can be tough too. It's okay. Mama and big and little big brother will be proud when they'll see me again."
I'm sure.
"It's cold."
Go back under the covers.
"It's not cold like that.. different cold." The boy yawned and crawled off the bed then the tiny feet walked fast with short little steps over the warm carpet to the widow and climbed on the big widow sill. "I'll sleep here tonight with the song."
The boy hugged his knees to his chest again and pulled his white nightshirt down to fend himself from the cold, his head turned and his forehead resting against the rain cooled glass.
"Do you sing?"
August had moved his own body back to the closet where he normally spent his time, his body shrinking to its original form.
No, I do not.
"That's okay." The blonde boy ticked his finger against the window meeting the splashing of the raindrops from outside. "They'll sing for me."
Good night, little lord Wolfram.
"Tik, tik, tik."
That little lord hummed again, his shiny emeralds looking outside where it wasn't as dark as it was inside. The moon made a blanket of light blue to cover the entire surrounding. He observed all life at the other side of the window until his eyes felt heavy and his dark lashes met his pale skin.
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I'm not sure about this. I was suddenly inspired and wrote this out of no where. I'd like to hear some opinions! Please review and thank you for reading anyway.