Through the Centuries (First Anti-Frerard Fanfiction Ever!)
Does remembering make it better? (PART 1 OF 3)
I wiped the sweat from my brow and put down my axe. The pile of firewood was already sky-high and my smile was from ear to ear.
“Good job, son.”
My father patted me on the shoulder and I beamed at him. Then, we both bent down to pick up an armful of wood and began the work of carrying it down to the cottage.
Our home was a modest one. Father had built it himself years ago. They revealed to me that at first, it was supposed to be only a vacation spot, but then father had chosen to live the life of a country man and had moved us over here. Not that I complain. I love the country. I barely remember our old home anyways. Our house was made of wood and it had a nice chimney and a living room with a kitchen. It also had two bedrooms: one for mother and father, and one for me and my brother, Mikey.
Mother was waiting at the door when we reached it. She pulled open the doors to our wood storage and father and I stocked the wood inside. Autumn was coming soon, so we needed to stock up as much as we could.
I turned around quickly and plucked my little brother off the ground. The pipsqueak squealed again, making me laugh like a maniac.
“Let’s pick flowers!” Mikey exclaimed.
I nuzzled into his neck and kissed his cheek.
“I would love to, Mikey. But I have to help dad with the firewood. You know how that’s like. It'll be hours before we’re done.”
“Play with your brother.” Father said, a smile in his voice. “I’ll get Mr. Bryar to help me out with the rest. You’ve done more than enough for today.”
Father ruffled my hair and I laughed. Then, Mikey and I took off. We ran down the dirt road that led to our favorite field, my little brother ahead. He was giggling on about a flower he had found earlier and telling me about a secret stash of them. Finally, we stopped. There, in an area that is well shaded from the cold, There… we found beautiful flowers. Mikey plucked one and held it up to me.
“Don’t worry, Gee. I checked for poison.”
I took the white flower and patted my brother in the head. 5 years old and he was already so very smart. We then proceeded to go out to a beautiful clearing. The sky was a lovely shade of blue and there hardly were any clouds left over from the storm.
There had been a storm two days ago. That had been where father and I had gotten all the firewood from. All the trees in the north part of the forest had lost their leaves, limbs and some had even been uprooted. Even though our home was far from the storm, the winds still managed to knock the apples off my tree at home. Even now, we were enjoying lots and lots of apple pie.
Suddenly, there is a terrified yelp.
I look around for Mikey, My eyes land on him just in time to see him disappear down a bend in shrubbery. I rush to him to find that he has landed on top of a fern and is sniffling bitterly. His knee is bleeding.
“I… fell….” Mikey whimpers softly.
I pick Mikey up and swing him on my back. His little hands hold on to my shoulders. His warm tears hit the back of my neck.
“We’re going to go wash up at the river, okay Mikes?”
I feel Mikey nod into my hair and hear the slight ‘pop’ he makes as he sticks his thumb in his mouth, a habit he refuses to grow out of. When we reach the river, I place him down and cup some of the clean water with both my hands.
“It’ll sting a little, okay?”
Mikey screws his small eyes shut and I can’t help but smile. Then, he nods carefully. Without making much of a noise, I gently pour the water on the blood. My little brother hisses and sniffles. I pat his shoulder.
“You’re a brave little warrior.” I murmur.
The cut wasn’t just one. There were 2. They weren’t deep, but they were long. I checked them carefully for infection. After finding none, I rummaged through my pocket for anything I could give to Mikey. Finally, I found the tiny bird-shaped whistle that dad had given me for my birthday yesterday and let him have it. Nearly instantly, his face lit up and he yelped with joy.
I slung him on my back again and we were about to leave, when we heard something.
My first instinct was to shush Mikey and crouch down. The sound was coming from underneath some pieces of broken trees. I blinked. The storm hadn’t passed through here, but the river had pushed some of the wreckage downstream.
“Gee.” Mikey whispered. “Let’s go home….”
“I heard something.” I insist.
“Geeeee!” He whined. “There’s-”
Then, I see it. IT… is a boy. The slight noise is his rattled breathing. He’s freezing.
“We have to help him.” I gasp. I place Mikey down and we step closer to the wreckage. Another soft noise. A pained moan. I take a branch that is currently pinning him down and push it out of the way. Mikey begins to do the same. My little brother’s face is unreadable. Three branches later, the boy’s face is fully unveiled. Boy… young man… with a boyish face. His body is small and he is wearing tattered remains of rich clothing. A good guess would be that the ship he was in was in the middle of the storm and it got destroyed. Then, the river carried him downstream and onto the border. A wonder he survived at all. I touch his face and he whimpers slightly. Then, his eyes open. There is mud all over his body, except on his eyes. When he opens his eyes, it feels like the world stops.
Those eyes…. Where do I… know them from?
The boy looks at us with fright. Both of us. He attempts to sit up and falls back down again. He looks at Mikey and then… at… me….
Silence. His mouth opens and his eyes become filled with tears.
“G-Gerard?” He whispers.
Before I can react to it, he falls unconscious before I can catch him. I look over at Mikey. Mikey looks at me.
“We have to take him to the house.” I say softly.
Mikey frowns and shakes his head. He’s never disagreed with me before.
“Why not?” I urge. “HE needs our help.”
“If we don’t take him back to the house, I’ll stay here until he wakes up.”
Mikey stood up and sighed. Then, he nodded.
I'M BACK MY BABY BATS!
I worked on this while on vacation. This story will be 3 parts long. Turns out I take work with me everywhere I go LOL
either way, I'M BACH