Categories > Original > Horror > Angel Moon
Different Names For The Same Thing, Amy
0 reviewsAmy's POV. We say hello to Jack and Amy, a walk in the forest.
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Play: First Date Jitters ~ Let Me In Soundtrack
He sat there, on the tree stump, looking out into the snowy distance, a nervousness about him that was normal. He glanced at me shiftily, and back at the distance, before glancing back again and giving me a small, timid smile. He'd known me for years but he was still shy around me. His stare turned into a little frown, I knew it well. Time for a little question.
"Amy, where are we?" he asked, peering around suspiciously. I stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder, reassuring as always.
"Not far from home, we were taking a walk in the forest, remember?" I smiled, and he smiled back gently, before leaning against my side, linking his arm around mine.
"I remember, I remember..." he muttered, fed up of the words. Always those two words that I was glad to hear. I couldn't even think of when he wouldn't be able to say them any more. His snow white hair fell over his face, and he sighed. "Amy... Do you love me?" he said quietly, looking up at me, his blue eyes innocent and child like, almost. The coppery brown rings around the irises were bright lately.
"Of course, silly." I kissed the top of his head, and he blushed slightly pink. Today must be a forgetful one. But he was content, it was fine, so today was good.
"Jack and A-meee." he said in a little sing song voice, pulling his sleeves over his hands and standing, looking up into the trees as he did so. He wandered up the forest path, just looking at things, muttering to himself, stopping to stare at a dead bird on the ground. The grey jumper he favoured was much too big, stretched beyond belief, and with his skinny legs in their skinny black jeans, he cast thin shadows on the snow. Oh, and barefoot. Always barefoot in the snow. It was ritual since the winter he'd been out walking so long that his already battered boots fell apart. I found it interesting how he remembered these things, but not where he was or sometimes even his own name. I dreaded the day he couldn't remember me.
Jack had been my friend since we were four years old. Myself, a born vampire, him an orphaned human. A friend of Dorian's had died, and Jack was left without a home, so he was taken in. We co-existed quite happily for a few weeks, before we started noticing his condition deteriorate. The memory loss, and then the copper in the eyes, the tremors.
He had Wilson's disease, and a main symptom was dementia. After years of trying to cope, I just couldn't take it any more. Not far after my eleventh birthday I turned him, thinking it would fix him, get rid of this thing that I would lose him to. But to no avail, the condition remained. He now often couldn't remember where he was, his own name, who people were. He seemed to be a confused and lost little boy, and was as a result still rather childlike even though he was nineteen. I loved him so much, but he would never understand that, and would have trouble even retaining that information.
He stared, still at the dead bird on the ground. He chewed on his sleeve, frowning, and turned around momentarily to glance at me as I caught him up before returning his gaze to the poor creature.
"Amy, it's dead, isn't it?" he whined quietly, worry painting his face as he turned his back on it, waiting. I sighed, knowing what it was that he wanted. Digging a small hole in the snow, I nudged the pitiful little thing, with it's bent wing and snapped neck, into the little well and covered it back over with a handful of snow. "Is it in heaven yet?" he called, his speech muffled as he still chewed on his sleeve.
"Yes, it's in heaven." I called back, and he headed over, and gently patted the little mound of snow that was the bird's icy little grave. "Can we go home now?" he said excitedly, suddenly smiling brightly.
"Come on then, let's head back." As soon as I said this he took up his prefered walking spot. At my left side, with my hand in his pocket, our little fingers linked together, and we continued down the forest path. He stopped suddenly, alert.
"People, people are coming, Amy. They sound sad, upset. Do you think they saw the dead bird?"
He sat there, on the tree stump, looking out into the snowy distance, a nervousness about him that was normal. He glanced at me shiftily, and back at the distance, before glancing back again and giving me a small, timid smile. He'd known me for years but he was still shy around me. His stare turned into a little frown, I knew it well. Time for a little question.
"Amy, where are we?" he asked, peering around suspiciously. I stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder, reassuring as always.
"Not far from home, we were taking a walk in the forest, remember?" I smiled, and he smiled back gently, before leaning against my side, linking his arm around mine.
"I remember, I remember..." he muttered, fed up of the words. Always those two words that I was glad to hear. I couldn't even think of when he wouldn't be able to say them any more. His snow white hair fell over his face, and he sighed. "Amy... Do you love me?" he said quietly, looking up at me, his blue eyes innocent and child like, almost. The coppery brown rings around the irises were bright lately.
"Of course, silly." I kissed the top of his head, and he blushed slightly pink. Today must be a forgetful one. But he was content, it was fine, so today was good.
"Jack and A-meee." he said in a little sing song voice, pulling his sleeves over his hands and standing, looking up into the trees as he did so. He wandered up the forest path, just looking at things, muttering to himself, stopping to stare at a dead bird on the ground. The grey jumper he favoured was much too big, stretched beyond belief, and with his skinny legs in their skinny black jeans, he cast thin shadows on the snow. Oh, and barefoot. Always barefoot in the snow. It was ritual since the winter he'd been out walking so long that his already battered boots fell apart. I found it interesting how he remembered these things, but not where he was or sometimes even his own name. I dreaded the day he couldn't remember me.
Jack had been my friend since we were four years old. Myself, a born vampire, him an orphaned human. A friend of Dorian's had died, and Jack was left without a home, so he was taken in. We co-existed quite happily for a few weeks, before we started noticing his condition deteriorate. The memory loss, and then the copper in the eyes, the tremors.
He had Wilson's disease, and a main symptom was dementia. After years of trying to cope, I just couldn't take it any more. Not far after my eleventh birthday I turned him, thinking it would fix him, get rid of this thing that I would lose him to. But to no avail, the condition remained. He now often couldn't remember where he was, his own name, who people were. He seemed to be a confused and lost little boy, and was as a result still rather childlike even though he was nineteen. I loved him so much, but he would never understand that, and would have trouble even retaining that information.
He stared, still at the dead bird on the ground. He chewed on his sleeve, frowning, and turned around momentarily to glance at me as I caught him up before returning his gaze to the poor creature.
"Amy, it's dead, isn't it?" he whined quietly, worry painting his face as he turned his back on it, waiting. I sighed, knowing what it was that he wanted. Digging a small hole in the snow, I nudged the pitiful little thing, with it's bent wing and snapped neck, into the little well and covered it back over with a handful of snow. "Is it in heaven yet?" he called, his speech muffled as he still chewed on his sleeve.
"Yes, it's in heaven." I called back, and he headed over, and gently patted the little mound of snow that was the bird's icy little grave. "Can we go home now?" he said excitedly, suddenly smiling brightly.
"Come on then, let's head back." As soon as I said this he took up his prefered walking spot. At my left side, with my hand in his pocket, our little fingers linked together, and we continued down the forest path. He stopped suddenly, alert.
"People, people are coming, Amy. They sound sad, upset. Do you think they saw the dead bird?"
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