ON THE WINGS OF AN ANGEL
Guess who? Me, that's who! I got a nice new chapter for you to feast your eyes on! (Speaking of feasts, I'm still feeling rather full from last night's Thanksgiving banquet. I probably shouldn't have eaten so much, but can I help it if everything tastes so darn good?) Anyway, here you go, mates. This chapter was trickier to write than I'd expected, but time and diligence has paid off.
I'm surprised there haven't been more reviews lately. Yes, I know I can't force people to review, but feedback is invaluable to a writer and a writer's work.
Characters (with exceptions) © Disney
Story © unicorn-skydancer08
All rights reserved.
Chapter 16: Relentless Memories
In Pinocchio's dream, he was at the circus once more. He was dressed in a colorful jumpsuit with large red pompoms down the front; he also wore a silly cap topped with a red pompom, and he had a red artificial nose fixed over his own. He stood before an enormous crowd; countless faces of men, women, and children surrounded him on every side. Lively music was playing, and a voice that came from nowhere and everywhere was saying: "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, INTRODUCING THE WORLD'S ONE AND ONLY MARIONETTE CLOWN—PINOCCHIO!" Then Pinocchio, either by love or by force, was compelled to sing and caper about to the public's delight.
His performances grew increasingly intense, while the crowd egged him on and Fabrizio cracked his whip at the boy and shouted gross obscenities at him at the top of his voice.
The dream shifted. Now Pinocchio found himself on the high wire once again. Fabrizio hovered over him, his chalky face, half-sheathed in shadow, looking almost demonic.
"You killed me, boy," Fabrizio hissed, his eyes blazing in spite of the shadows. "Now you shall die, too!"
Then the wire broke, and Pinocchio was falling through the air like a stone dropped into water—
There was a piercing cry, followed by a dreadful crash.
Terence and Rhiella both jumped at the unexpected noise; Jiminy was jarred back to reality in an instant. "What was that?" the cricket exclaimed, his eyes no less than three times their size.
Duke's ears flew straight up, while Figaro ran and hid behind the collie. Even Cleo looked startled.
"What just happened?" Rhiella gasped, hand over her heart.
Knowing there was only one source for that noise, Terence was on his feet in a flash. He sprinted out of the room with Duke hot at his heels. Rhiella hesitated for only a second before she jumped up as well and followed.
Terence burst into Pinocchio's room to find him lying on the floor, between his bed and his bureau, which had toppled sideways. Gasping in horror at the sight, Terence rushed swiftly to the boy's side. "Pinocchio!" he cried as he threw himself to his knees. Pinocchio, who'd received a rather stunning blow, was vaguely aware of the young man scooping his head into his lap. "Pinocchio!" Terence repeated. "Pinocchio—speak to me!"
A pained groan was the only answer he got.
He felt the child all over, and discovered a nasty bump on one side of his head, which was swelling rapidly; already, it was the size of a small egg.
Meantime, Duke went to join Terence, where he bent his own head and began licking Pinocchio's face tenderly.
When Rhiella appeared in the doorway and saw the scene for herself, she too drew in a sharp breath. "Good heavens, what happened here?"
"Rhiella," said Terence, "get a basin of cold water and some clean rags. You'll find them in the kitchen. Meet me in the parlor."
Rhiella didn't need telling twice; she had already turned around the moment Terence told her where she could find the supplies.
Very gently, Terence lifted Pinocchio into his arms and carried him out of the room, while Duke obligingly picked up one of the pillows with his teeth before trailing after them. In the parlor, Terence set Pinocchio on the couch and covered the boy with his own blanket. When Duke presented Terence with the pillow, the young man patted the dog in thanks before he tucked the pillow behind Pinocchio's head. In another minute, Rhiella came in with the basin and the rags. She placed them on a little table near the couch. On his knees once more, Terence soaked one of the rags in the cool water, wrung it out, and delicately dabbed at Pinocchio's injury.
At length, Jiminy leaped onto one of the couch's arms. His heart twisted at the sight of Pinocchio in this state. "Is he all right?" he asked Terence.
"I'm not sure," Terence said. "He's hit his head pretty badly." He showed Jiminy the bump, and the cricket whistled sympathetically.
"Ouch…that's got to hurt. I imagine that'll leave Pinoke with one heck of a headache."
Duke placed one forepaw on top of the blanket while he watched Terence tend to Pinocchio. Rhiella stood by and watched, too; once again, she was impressed and humbled at the tenderness Terence showed the child.
When Pinocchio began to recover somewhat, when he was more aware of what was going on, he peered up at Terence, still in a bit of a daze. "Terence?"
Terence, who was still sponging his face, answered softly, "Yes, it's me."
"How are you feeling, son?" Jiminy asked.
"My head hurts."
"We don't blame you for that," said Rhiella. "You're lucky you didn't split your head open."
"Just lie quietly," Terence said. "We're here for you, son. Everything's going to be okay."
Duke licked Pinocchio's cheek one more time, while Figaro leaped onto the couch and curled up at the boy's side. These, along with Terence's light touch, soothed Pinocchio a great deal.
While the boy rested on the couch with the animals, with a fresh rag acting as a compress, Terence sat a little off to the side in one of the chairs. Rhiella pulled up a chair herself and sat with him.
Seeing Terence's distress, she placed a hand on his forearm and told him, "Don't worry, Terence. I'm sure Pinocchio will be all right."
Terence didn't seem mollified. "I can't stand it, Rhiella."
"Can't stand what?"
"To see Pinocchio hurt like this. Every time he gets hurt, it hurts me just as much, if not more."
"Well, not to sound insensitive, dear heart, but there is no way you can totally shield him from pain. No one is exempt from it."
Terence sighed. "I know that. I just feel Pinocchio has been dealt too much pain already. No one should have to go through what he's gone through, least of all a child."
Recalling the stories she had heard the night before, Rhiella said, "He has been through a lot, hasn't he?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"More than any child deserves," said Terence. Closing his eyes, sighing again, he leaned forward and sank his forehead into his hands.
"Tell me more about this Fabrizio," said Rhiella at length. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but I am curious."
The mention of Fabrizio made Terence lift his face to her again, but it was a long time before he spoke.
"Fabrizio was what you might call two-faced. On the surface, he seemed a decent enough fellow…but inside, he was a psychopath, officially insane. He was the sort of person who always got what he wanted, and he was not above hurting, even killing those who were in his way. He tried to kill me just because I stood between him and Pinocchio. It still gives me chills to think of how close I came to losing my life at his hands…and how I lost Pinocchio."
"You're certain Pinocchio died that night?"
"I'm positive. He took a fall from which no one could have survived. Fabrizio certainly didn't, and had I not been already holding onto the wire as one end broke loose, I would have suffered the same fate."
Rhiella shivered. "How dreadful that must have been!"
"It still haunts me to this day," said Terence grimly. "Even though Pinocchio is all right now, I will never forget the sight of his little body on the ground, or the agony that tore at me. It's a memory I'll take to my grave."
Rhiella was at a loss of what to say after that, other than, "You must have sincerely loved him for it to affect you so."
Terence said no more, but in another minute he buried his face completely in his hands, though not before Rhiella caught a hint of tears. She saw his shoulders begin to shake as quiet, unrestrained sobs poured out of him.
Impossible as it was, Rhiella wished there was something she could do to take away the pain, to eradicate the ghastly memories. She did the only thing she could do, and slid her arms around Terence's trembling shoulders, as far as they could reach, and held him. She never said anything, asked no further questions. She just stroked him, kissed him, and allowed him to weep for as long as he needed to.
She recalled all the times he soothed her like this when she was upset; now it was her turn to do so for him.