A friend asked me to put in my interpretation of my dream. So I have written my own background story that complies to my dream. Here you are, Elizabeth.

Arthur Kirkland was alone. He was an orphan and didn't have any friends. Arthur Kirkland was alone.

"Hey, eyebrows, watch out!" a voice yelled. Then, out of nowhere a hand knocked all the books he was holding out of his hands and onto to the muddy floor. They splattered everywhere as laughter exploded in the boy's ears.

"Sorry, were you going to practice your witchcraft, eyebrows?" one of the bullies asked mockingly. Arthur recognized his voice. He knew all too well who it was, tormenting him. He knew from all the nights of crying himself to sleep and from all those days of wishing he was someone else. Oh, he knew him too well. His chest gave an uncomfortable squeeze of fear every time he heard that voice.

"Well? Cat got your tongue?" he asked with a bit more venom in his tone. Arthur lifted his head slowly to look at his oppressor, Francis Bonnefoy. He stood several inches taller, with his silky blond hair that fell a little above his shoulders. His flunkies, Antonio and Gilbert, sniggered at him.

Arthur felt his shoulders shrug as he kept his mouth glued tight. Francis lifted an eyebrow and spoke in a deadly voice,

"On, you don't know do you? Well maybe this will help you." And with that, him and his lackeys began to push, kick, punch, and insult Arthur until Madam Greenery came out bearing her favorite choice of weapon, a wooden broom.

"See you around witch!"

The boys cackled as they ran away, leaving the smaller boy sobbing on the wet dirty pavement street of Old London.

The dark secretive alleys were the boy's favorite refuge. He found it the world's greatest pleasure exploring little hidden passage ways that connected themselves to everywhere in the city. They were endless.

But even that has been ruined. The other boy's from the orphanage had found out where Arthur had been disappearing to. They were restless and persistent in ruining his pathetic life.

Early on, Arthur had learned how to avoid the "group". Burt recently he finds himself more beaten up than ever before. Oh how he hated them! Can't they just let him be miserable alone? Well, deep in his heart somewhere, he yearned to be with them. (Well not Francis, because he's always rubbed him the wrong way, that dirty frog...)

Because unlike many, Arthur had remembered a time, a life even, before the orphanage. And it made it ten times worse. The blond boy picked himself up and trotted off, leaving his books to suffer. Tears blinded him as he hiccupped to himself. He's gotten terribly sick of the empty gloomy looking streets of the place.

He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles as he remembered his very different life; a life with warm smiles and soft caresses, a life with the smell of gentle perfume and the taste of delicious scones. But his shivering snapped him out of his reverie. He didn't know how much more heartbreak he could take, so he squeezed his eyes shut as he leaned against a mossy wall. He let himself slip against it as he began to lose himself in his own private nightmare.

"Mummy… Are you there?" No answer. His heartbeat sped in his chest like the wings of a hummingbird. Panic swallowed his heart as he tried to look for his dear mummy. Then there was a crash; a loud crash that shook his bones. He would never forget the sound of that crash, because he would always think that there was a pained scream hidden there. Arthur followed the sounds, navigating through the small rooms of his home. But his legs stopped at the entrance of the kitchen. Oh! There was mummy! But why was she sleeping on the floor? It didn't make sense to him.

Then he saw the blood.
It was splattered carelessly against the wall and across the clean floors. Even though it scared the living hell out of him, he couldn't help but find it a bit beautiful. A sudden chill in the air made his heart stop for a moment. A dark cloaked figure floated above his mother. Arthur tried to call out it, he tried to yell at the figure to stay away from his sleeping mother, but then it turned around. That face… that was the face that he dreamt about night and day. He couldn't explain even if his life depended on it. The only way he could was… that it was the face of fear.

A cry escaped his chapped lips, but he didn't hear it. Instead he felt a soft warm wind. He opened his glassy eyes and saw a wonderful world that definitely was not London. A wide beautiful field of long golden wheat that quivered in the strangest yet beautiful way was in front of him. He was waist-deep as he looked up into the endlessly blue sky. The blue reflected off his forest green eyes. And he felt sun kiss his pale skin. Where was he?

"Arthur…" a voice, saturated with so much love and affection, called out to him. And he could have sworn on his life, it was the voice of his mother.

But when he turned he did not meet the gentle face of his mother. Instead he faced the happiest smile he had ever seen being directed at him.

A golden haired boy, much like the color of the field, who had the exact eye color as the endless sky above their heads was smiling up at him; like he was his most favorite person in the entire universe. The cool wind blew pleasantly through their hair.

And for a moment, Arthur forgot about what had made his heart feel all closed and squeezed. And for a moment, it felt like Arthur could smile, even if it was just a little. And for a moment, Arthur felt completely happy being the source of this child's happiness.

The golden angel stretched out his hand and tilted his head to the side expectantly.

Arthur felt no hesitation as he took the soft smooth hand of his personal angel.