ON THE WINGS OF AN ANGEL
Hello, friends. For those who are still dedicated to this story, here is the latest chapter, presented with my sincere apologies for the delay and my deepest thanks for your patience. As you read, you'll find a few allusions to the previous story, as well as the original movie. Arm yourselves with plenty of tissues!
Characters (with exceptions) © Disney
Lyrics © Disney
Story © unicorn-skydancer08
All rights reserved.
Chapter 22: A Prayer and a Dream
Even before he was left alone, Terence already felt as isolated as if he were stranded on the moon. His heart felt tugged in so many directions; he was amazed it hadn't already split apart.
What can I do? the youth asked himself as he continued to sit there. What more can I do? Why does this have to be so complicated? Then, without knowing where it came from, the following thought slipped into his mind, What would Geppetto have done?
At this last thought, he slowly withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. He looked around, as if some deep part of him expected Geppetto to be in that very room. Even though there was nothing out of the ordinary, the notion Terence just had refused to go away.
Of course, Terence knew next to nothing about this Geppetto. He only knew about the man from what Pinocchio had told him, and from the drawings in Pinocchio's little collection. According to what Terence saw and heard, Geppetto must have been truly remarkable. Surely the old man would know how to handle this situation—or have some better idea, anyway.
Almost unconsciously, Terence found himself saying to the open air, "Geppetto…I've tried so hard to be good to your little boy. I've done everything possible to make him and everyone else happy. Everything used to be so right, but then…then it all went so wrong. What do I do, now? Please tell me."
He waited, his ears as keen as his eyes.
Nothing.
No eye-openers, no sudden stroke of inspiration, no sounds aside from the birds outside the window.
Feeling mortified as well as crestfallen, Terence eventually stood up and made way for his room. Without bothering to remove his boots, he simply flung himself across the soft bedspread. He lay on his front for a time, then slowly shifted to his right side before settling onto his back.
His eyelids grew heavy. His mind began to drift away, like a ship just after the sails had been set. Before too long, the youth was out like a snuffed candle.
Terence was walking with Rhiella along the shore of a moon-painted lake. A mild breeze caressed them while insects sang their darktime lullabies and the stars blinked with distant white fire. It was the sort of night you'd wish would never end, especially when the person you loved was there to share it with you.
As Terence and Rhiella stood together, naturally they couldn't resist huddling a bit closer to each other. Rhiella had always been tall for her age, but Terence was even taller; she fit almost perfectly under his arm. She buried her face in his chest while his hands played with her hair. "I love you," he crooned into her ear.
"I could hear you say those words a million times," she replied, lifting her gaze to his, "and I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing them."
He laughed. "And every time I say them, they will be nothing short of the gospel truth, or else may I be struck dead where I stand."
Rhiella smiled back, but her tone was serious when she reached toward his cheek and said, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Terence."
"I could say the same about you, dearest."
"Promise me you'll never leave me."
"I swear it on my very life."
"I could never love another man the way I love you."
"And there's no other woman I would rather spend the rest of eternity with than you."
The next thing Terence knew, he was standing inside a humble but cozy little shop. Fantastic clocks unlike any he had ever seen graced the walls, while shelves upon shelves were laden with every imaginable toy. While Terence marveled at all these wonderful crafts, a voice from behind said, "Well, now, it won't take much longer."
Turning, Terence saw a little, slightly bent man standing at a high counter. The man's hair and thick mustache were as white as Terence's hair and goatee, though his face was clearly older. A small pair of square spectacles settled on the edge of his bulblike nose, and he wore a modest apron over modest work clothes. He didn't look like he lived on the breadline, but he certainly did not possess a silver spoon, either.
Even so, he appeared a very kindly man; he gave off a special warmth that Terence could easily feel from a distance. He also proved to be an exceptional artist, as was manifested in the way he handled the little puppet in front of him—which Terence instantly recognized as Pinocchio.
Terence's breath caught at the sight. He felt his heart make a stutter-step. Could it truly be?
"Just a little more paint, and he's all finished," the old man said as he surveyed Pinocchio's half-completed face. "I think he'll be all right, don't you, Figaro?"
"Mrrow," replied Figaro, who sat alongside Pinocchio on the countertop.
Geppetto? Even as Terence wondered it, he knew he couldn't be mistaken.
Singing a pleasant tune to himself, Geppetto took up his brush and proceeded to apply the final touches. Terence marveled at the steadiness of the man's hand, of the way Pinocchio's features came alive with just a few strokes.
"There, see?" said Geppetto as soon as he'd completed Pinocchio's smile. "That makes a big difference!"
Truly, Terence thought, unable to get over the sight.
"Come on," said Geppetto, now scooping Pinocchio into his arms. "We'll try you out. Music, professor!" He pushed a button on one of the music boxes on the nearest shelf, and while the song played, Terence was once again enthralled at the way Geppetto manipulated Pinocchio's strings to make the boy's movements as lifelike as possible. With Figaro tagging along, Geppetto guided Pinocchio all across the room, singing the words to the same melody from before:
"Little wooden head, go play your part.
Bring a little joy to every heart.
Little do you know, and yet it's true
That I'm mighty proud of you.
"Little wooden feet, and best of all,
Little wooden seat in case you fall.
Never let a single tear be shed,
My little wooden head.
"Happy little chap,
With a feather in your cap,
Though they made you of wood,
You never give a rap.
Always doing good
As a little puppet should,
Chasing each gloomy day away.
"Little wooden head, with eyes that shine,
Little wooden head that's made of pine,
In a weary world, you do your share
Spreading laughter everywhere.
"Little wooden feet, and best of all,
Little wooden seat in case you fall.
Never let a single tear be shed,
My little wooden head."
Later, when Geppetto retired to his bed, Terence watched as the old man caught sight of "the wishing star" and immediately got up to his knees and offered a heartfelt prayer. "Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I make tonight. Figaro," he whispered at the end, "you know what I wished?"
When Figaro shook his head, Geppetto leaned in closer to the cat, as if to share the most intimate of secrets. Even so, Terence could hear him just as easily from his position. "I wished that my little Pinocchio might be a real boy. Wouldn't that be nice? Just think, a real boy. A real…boy…"
This marked the time that Terence found himself back in his own bedroom, in his own house. While nothing had changed, Terence's face and pillow felt as wet as if someone just tipped a full bucket of water over him.
At the same time, Pinocchio was taking a trip down Memory Lane, too. After crying himself to sleep, the boy found himself at his first home, beside Geppetto in their big bed on a windy night. When the wind made a particularly eerie shriek, Pinocchio burrowed under the blankets like a terrified rabbit, only to have them gently pulled back a minute later and find himself gazing into his father's tender eyes.
"Ahh," said Geppetto softly as he regarded his child. "There, there, little wooden head. No need to be frightened. Nothing will get you as long as I'm here."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Pinocchio's mouth. "Will you always be here, Father?"
"Of course." Geppetto folded him into his arms. "I love you, son."
"I love you more," Pinocchio whispered as he returned the fervent embrace.
"I love you most."
Now Pinocchio found himself at the Red Mount Inn, sitting by the glowing hearth with Terence at his side. They were both wrapped in heavy blankets due to a daring rescue at the sea, and Terence had just offered to take on Pinocchio as his own child.
As the two cuddled each other close, Pinocchio couldn't refrain from asking, "Are you an angel, Mr. Terence?"
"An angel?" Terence sounded startled at the question. "What makes you say that?"
"My father used to say that angels are everywhere. He said they tend to appear in unexpected places, at unexpected times, and they're always watching over us and ready to help us when we need help."
Now Terence smiled, even as tears started to trickle down his face. "Well, I don't know about a real angel…but I will certainly be there when you need me, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."
"I love you, Mr. Terence."
"I love you, too, Pinocchio."