The Guardian of My Dreams

Guardian of my dreams

Tristan Nolan        About 10000 words
1052 158th PL SE
Bellevue, WA, 98008
Phone Number
tristanofficial@outlook.com






THE GUARDIAN OF MY DREAMS
By
Tristan Nolan








        Dalia.”  The voice whispered to me, raspy and longing. I ran through the marsh, not sure if the next step would drive me into the soft or solid ground. But I didn’t care about that. Fear was my guide, and although it was a treacherous one, I needed to get away from the voice. It flowed with silky sweetness, but I knew what waited at the other end. I drew another breath, not sure when the fear would wear off with the next one. That didn’t matter. I was determined to escape, no matter what it took.
        Abruptly, my foot caught on a root protruding from the ground, sending me flying into a pond. I felt my feet and shins sinking in the bottom of a patch of soft peat, as if the very ground desired my flesh. My mouth tried to scream in fear and pain, however, no sound came. Struggling for a moment, I managed to raise my head above the surface. I tried to scream again, but water caught in my throat, and I choked, my body forcing it out.
        “Dalia.” The voice whispered again, hungry for my flesh and blood. I tried to move, despite the fact my body was rigid with fear. All I could do was wait. The drip of the beast’s drool fell with small splish-splashes as footsteps brought the monster closer to me, threatening to devour me. When I saw it in its full glory, I went numb from the fear. It towered over me, being as tall as a normal man. It possessed a frog’s body with a face of a giant spider, although the black chitin covered its entire body. Eight beady red eyes reflected the moonlight at me, revealing its demonic nature. Its pincer jaws slavered as it eyed me hungrily.
        “Tasty girl.” It barely contained itself to say even that as its jaws closed over me.
        I woke up upright and screaming, letting loose of what I could not have in the dream. I heard a rush of hurried footsteps, and my mother and father threw open the door.
        “Oh, Dalia, you’re alright!” Mother scrambled over to me, and held me in her arms. I fell into her warm embrace, sobbing.
        “Another nightmare?” Father’s strong arms surrounded me and Mother, calming me even more
        “Y-Yes.” I said between breaths and sobs.
        “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re here.” And I believed them. They have never let me down before, even when times where rough. I couldn’t thank them through my sobbing as they held me close.

…

        Sleep didn’t come easy, so I decided to tell my parents. As I walked to their door, an interesting conversation stopped me, and I couldn’t stop myself from eavesdropping. “Maria, this can’t go on.” I heard Father say through the wooden door.
        “I know, Nathan. But what can we do?” Mother’s voice sighed in defeat. “We’ve tried everything we could, short of going to a magician to cure her. And I don’t know of any for miles around. They aren’t exactly popular. Christ, Nathan, she’s only ten years old.”
        “Well, I think I know of one. My father might be able to help. We could see if he could help.” Father said, surety in his voice.
        “We can’t leave this up to chance. For the love of God, he’s only a toymaker!” Mother’s tone was pleading in desperation.
        “Maria, what other option do we have? We’ve tried the apothecaries, the alchemists, we even went to a barbarian shaman when the church dismissed us!” Father raised his voice to the verge of shouting, and I shrunk back with fear. Even worse than any beast was my father’s temper, which was something not easily kindled. I quickly put my ear back on the door to catch the rest of the conversation.
        “All right. We’ll go tomorrow” Mother settled down, and the conversation ended. Wondering what would happen, I crept back to bed.
…
        “Dalia, dear?” The click clack of Mother’s good shoes sounded through the hall.
        “What is it, Mother?” I asked, hope and foreboding building inside me.
        “Come along and get ready.” Mother entered the room, dressed like one of her favorite china dolls. “We’re going to town.” Trips to town were rarer than diamonds, so I let out a squeal of joy and went to change. After an age, I looked at myself in the mirror, pretty as a princess. I mimicked a curtsy, and smiled from ear to ear.
        Mother sighed. It was a habit she had when she was deep in thought. “Dalia, you are going to be a beautiful woman when you grow up.” She said wistfully, but I was more absorbed in the fact I was dressed in my market dress than my mother’s musings.
        “Are you ready, Mother?” I asked, nearly hopping with anticipation.
        Mother smiled. “Yes, dear. I’m ready.” We went down the hall to the entryway out of the house, where Father stood waiting at the door. “There are the beautiful young women.” Father was beaming with happiness as he opened the door, and picked me up on his shoulders as we all went out.
        Riding on Father’s shoulders was extremely fun, firstly because I didn’t have to run to keep up with anyone, but also I stood above everyone like a juvenile giant. I surveyed the horizon from this perspective while I could, and we soon came to our wagon with Old Hugh in the stable. The horse nickered a greeting as we came by, and Father set me down on the grass in front of the stable to get the horse ready.
        “Soon, we’ll have enough to buy another horse. Then, maybe you can be a little more relaxed, old boy.” Father patted him on the head as I stood and watched, not wanting to sully my dress. He looped the leather expertly, making it seem more like an art than a simple task. After a few minutes, he let Old Hugh trot a few steps beside him to see if everything was secure. After checking everything, he called out “Carriage is ready, miladies.” Mother picked me up, and let me sit on her lap as we rode to town.
        While we were riding, I listened to Mother talk to Father about the farm and about his physical condition. “Don’t you worry, Dear. I’ve got many years ahead of me, and I plan to fill them at the field, if I can.” That seemed to satisfy her, and the conversation switched to the goings on of the surrounding farms. When the buildings of the town became visible, however, I gave a shrill of excitement.
        The town of Morrowood was plain compared to larger cities such as Heldenhall in the far north, but it was the center for commerce for the surrounding farmers for miles around. “So, what are we going to look for, Father?” I asked, as we weren’t due for supplies for a good while, and market had only just ended for the month.
        “Oh, you’ll see, Dalia.” Father smiled playfully, as he came to a post that people hitched their horses and carts to while they shopped for what they needed. Father slid off the driver’s block, took two strides to reach the post, and secure the hitch as Mother descended from the block with me in her arms.
        “Well, then.” Father sighed, and leaned on the post lazily. “Thought you would never arrive.” Mother scoffed, but her eyes betrayed her true mood. I was lifted onto Father’s shoulders as we went. We travelled past the general store, where we bought anything from clothes to the few cloth dolls I did have. We also turned away from the military provisions store, which Father wouldn’t have been allowed in anyway, as he never enlisted. He hated senseless violence, which he considered all wars.
        When we did stop, it was at an old but well-kept building, as high as I was on Father’s shoulders twice over. It was furnished in lacquered wood, and had a few cobblestones of the foundation sticking up. A large, friendly sign painted with the words Toys for the Hearth and Home seemed to say “Come in already, and see the wonders in store for you!”. Anticipation grew in me, much like when Mother was fixing sweet rolls for after dinner or for market every month.
        “Are we going in there, Father?” I asked Father as I steadied myself.
        “Yes, dear. You wouldn’t remember first coming here. You were but a little baby then.” Father said as he lifted me off his shoulders, and my feet touched the ground. I stopped for a moment to calm myself, and entered the shop.
        The room was brightly lit, but not blaringly like when you stare in the sun. It was like a warm fireplace. It held a variety of toys, from tin knights on horseback to china dolls, all in a row. However, that wasn’t even  the best part. Each different toy was detailed in a way even the general store owner’s wife, who made most of the dolls, could not accomplish in her wildest dreams. The knights looked like they were ready to bear down on wrongdoers. The dolls looked like they had afternoon tea and played croquet on Sunday afternoons. Father set me down on the ground, and I tentatively took a step forward.
        It was then, that a secret door opened in the back of the store behind a row of stuffed bears, Frightened, I made no sound, but hid behind Mother and Father. Out from the door came an old man, his wrinkled skin showing his age, but his eyes still had the bright light of a little boy to them, and his smile held warm memories and mischievous glee at the same time, like the Halverson boys stealing pies from the window sills when Mother wasn’t looking. He was dressed in a simple tan-colored tunic with dark blue pants. He could have been twenty years younger if not for the wrinkles on his face and the spectacles on his eyes. The face quickly shifted to one of stunned silence
        “Could it be?” He wondered out loud. “Oh, it is! Nathaniel, my boy!” Moving with the energy of a little boy to his mama, he dashed towards my father, arms spread wide. His voice was like a fire, not one that raged through a wilderness, but a crackling one in a hearth. Nathaniel accepted the embrace.
        “Hello, Father.” He said grimly, his expression frigid as winter compared to the summer sun of the old man who was apparently my grandfather.  
        “And look who else is here? Maria? You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.” Mother at least pretended to be happy, smiling shyly, and greeted my grandfather. “And Dalia? Oh, my goodness, you grown so much. I last saw you when you were but a babe.” I didn’t know him, but there was an air of familiarity about him. Before I could discern anything, however, Father cleared his throat, and said “Father, I came to talk business with you. May we speak in private? It concerns matters I would not normally speak of in public.”
        “Oh, but of course. Follow me.” Grandfather put his hand behind Father’s back, and led him to the back area. When the door closed, Mother leaned down to me, and whispered “Now, Dalia, you may look around the store, but Father has something even better planned for you.”
        “Really?” I couldn’t even fathom something better than the display of wonders before me, but I trusted Mother, and I looked to her to confirm it.
        “Yes, dearie. He really does.” Mother’s smile was a little fake, and her eyes were worrisome, but trusting her, I went to the store, and began to explore.
…

        As a boy, my father never allowed us in his workshop. But now that I entered, I’m no longer sure if it was all I made it up to be.
        “Yes, I see her plight. Nightmares are a common problem among highly imaginative children. The apothecary across from me has several cures, but most are just teas for the nerves. I imagine she plays pretend a lot?” Father’s back area was more impressive than his display, shelves full of jars and beakers and rack of tools that looked to have the ability to maintain flawless control of the minutiae of any object. I stood, amazed at all I saw. There was also a smelter for metal, and a few cabinets for extra storage.
        “She does indeed.” Regaining my senses, I relaxed my body, and prepared myself for all things mystical and arcane. “She talks for hours with her dolls, acting like a mother or friend to them.” I didn’t know why I told him that, but just as you would tell a doctor everything in case they found the vital clue in the small talk you produced, I figured the same logic would work here. “She makes most of them herself, actually.”
        “Aha!” He shouted as if he’s made a great discovery. “She gets it from me, no doubt.” Father moved swift with his old age, gathering materials hither and thither. “Now, let’s make her a doll. Let me see.” He looked at a row of vials containing hairs of different colors. “Does she admire any particular hair color?”
        “Um, no, not really.” I replied.
        “Well, then. I personally prefer red haired lasses.” He selected a vial of gorgeous flame-colored hair, and grabbed a pair of scissors from the tool rack. After measuring with an eye that had years of experience, he snipped a length off, set it aside, and gathered more materials from various shelves, asking me occasionally to grab something for him, like canvas cloth and small bracings.
        Soon, he sat in his chair, and began to attach the bits of metal together with miniature screws and a driver. “Now, how’d you know I was a magician, my boy?” Father confirmed his abilities, and sighing, I replied “Because I knew you had a way with toys, as your wooden swords would always clash with the din of battle in our youth, and Clarice’s doll was her closest companion, even among her friends.”
        “Ah, a little mistake I made to give the doll to much personality for her.” Father sighed, in memory. “Well, this doll is different than any run of the mill doll. It is a Guardian, a powerful artifact that instead of making the nightmares disappear, it gives the subject satisfaction of the banishment or defeat of the nightmare. But, in order to maintain a human’s performance, it must have a semblance of the human form.”  The metal was in the perfect shape of a human female, but lacked the appearance.  Father measured the canvas cloth with ease, and although I knew he didn’t need it, he measured again, and certain his calculations were correct, he started cutting the canvas in sections, one for the head and neck, one for the torso and abdomen, one for each arm and leg, which I had no idea how he would get on.
        With a set of miniscule needles, he selected a length of thread that matched each stitch he needed, and his fingers maintained the skillful control of his youth. Larger needles on the torso and abdomen, smaller ones for the appendages, and the ones for the fingers and toes were so small, Father had to use a special thread for that one. All the while, he had no need for any sort of magnifying glass besides his spectacles.
        “There.” Father said as the last stitch was made. “Now for the ceramics.”
        “Does she have a preferred skin tone?” Father asked, opening another cupboard to reveal a selection of different ceramic plates in different skin tones.  
        “She has a preference for lighter skin, like her mother and herself.” I replied, thinking about how I would pay for all this.
        “Very well, then.” Father selected a selection of pale-colored plates, and taking a jar of adhesive and a brush, began to cover the frame in a light coat before setting the plates of ceramic.
        “Now, Guardians are different from my other dolls because they are pseudo-life forms. While they are made of porcelain and cloth instead of flesh and blood, they are sentient beings, and fully capable of thinking and communicating on the human level. Don’t tell Maria or Dalia. I want to surprise Dalia, and Maria seems to want to avoid this as much as possible.” Father’s fingers moved faster than the hairs on the back of my neck, and it seemed that the glue dried unnaturally fast as well. When he was finished, the doll looked like it could walk the streets of Morrowwood or be a wife to one of the many farmers in the neighboring farms.
        “Now, for the tricky part.” Father said. “Guardians may be dolls, but at night, they enter their dreams of their bonded child to battle the nightmare inside and banish it forever. You can’t really do that well in a party dress, now can you?” He winked as I stood there, confused.
        “No, I suppose not.” I said reluctantly. Father looked in another cupboard to find a few sets of armor already made.
        “I knew I made a few sets. I think I made a set for this one…” Father took the lot, and tried on the plate mail with special fittings for her chest and hips, but found that too large. He tried the scale mail, and found it a little too curvy. The third set of armor, a mixture of leather and chainmail, and of much sleeker design than the plate, fit perfectly.
        “Aha, a miracle!” Father put that aside, looking to me. “Now, Dalia can remove the armor by herself, but if she somehow is not able to, the doll can do it herself.” I nodded as Father searched through cupboards and shelves for dresses and silks. “Now, I suppose Dalia likes grandiose and flamboyant dresses, lots of silk and frills?” Father sorted the dresses into two piles, one with plain dresses and the other with ball gowns and lace petticoats.
        “Actually, she prefers plainer dresses, but still fanciful to a degree.” I said, knowing that fact.
        “Ah, bless her soul, she’s a humble one.” Father took a few dresses from the less gaudy pile of dresses, and fetched a miniature wardrobe. He clipped each dress on the rack by a special made pinching device, probably of his own invention, exempting a dress that appeared to be for a harvest dance, and closing it, took another box with rose motifs on it, and placed the armor in the containers inside of the box.
        “Now, for the enchantment that binds the Guardian and the child together. Let me see, soldier’s helm, divine ward, gift of nature.” Listing off each obscure herb and mushroom he grabbed out of the random shelves and cupboards, he returned to his station, and getting a cauldron of water, set it to boil. Adding each mushroom and herb one by one, he let it all dissolve, something I did not think possible of plants and mushrooms.
        “Now, I will need something personal from Dalia, such as a lock of her hair.” I had cut her hair that day, so I presented him with a small bundle of her corn silk-colored hair.
        “That should be plenty.” Father said as the cauldron boiled over. Father added the hair, and took a pair of tongs and a cup. He dipped the cup into the cauldron, and drizzled enough to coat the doll in a thin layer, even though, it would normally have just washed off.
        “Guardian, I bind you to my own flesh and blood, Dalia Grey. She has been cursed with night terrors, and until such time as she can cure them herself, you must aid her.” I see the doll begin to move and kick, as if she was just gaining the ability. Father poured the rest of the potion onto the doll, and it gasped, as if woken up after a night of drinking. It slowly regained composure, and stood, unashamed of its current state of undress and wetness.
        “Maker, is there anything else you ask of me?” The doll asked Father.
        “Yes. Please tell me what kind of armament you would like.” Father talked to the doll as if it was a normal teenage girl, instead of a soldier or a toy.
        “I wish for a bow, and a pair of short swords for close quarters.” Father nodded, and he went to the same cupboard he stored the armor in. “I knew you’d ask that.” He fished out the requested weapons, and placed them in the box decorated with roses. The Guardian then looked to the one dress Father had left out of the wardrobe.
        “I assume that you wish for me to put on the dress, and assume the role of a doll.” The Guardian looked at Father with a look I can’t quite explain. Father gave it a nod, and the Guardian does so.
        “Maker, I thank you for your gifts.” The Guardian was very appreciative of Father for everything, and made it clear in her attitude.
        “You are very welcome.” Father replied, and the doll laid down and looked as if dead. Father took a cloth bag, placed the box and the wardrobe inside. Finally, he placed the Guardian inside.
        “And if you’re worried about payment, consider it ten years’ worth of presents from her dear old grandfather.” Father said, tying up the bag, and handed it to me.
        “Thank you, Father. You were always a giving person.” I said, following him out the door.

…
        I was just examining the last bit of detail on the row of toy bears when Father and Grandfather appeared out of the display. I yelped and jumped back in fright, as the door nearly crushed me.
        “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to frighten you, dearie.” Grandfather said.
        “It’s all right, Grandfather.” I said, clutching my hand over my heart. “I would like to know how you do all this.”
        “Well, maybe another visit is in order.” Grandfather smiled in his friendly way, and Father looked a combination of awe and terror, as if he’d seen a ghost, but I let that go for now.
        “Don’t you get too busy with work that you all can’t visit in another ten years or some family crisis.” Grandfather playfully rapped Father on the head. “I may not be a spring chicken anymore, but I’m not ready to go for another long while.”
        “I will try.” Was all Father said. We made our way out after many goodbyes, and found our way back along the winding paths and roads of Morrowwood, stopping at our normal shops to pick up normal supplies. When we finally came to our wagon, it was close to lunchtime, and I was growing hungry. I knew it would be a long wait, so I mentally prepared myself.
        As we were going back, the air around us had a very different feel too it, to say the least. It was as if the visit to Grandfather put Mother and Father underneath a spell that froze their tongues and stole their voices. It was a very solemn ordeal, and I occupied myself with looking at the scenery and what was in the bag, as Father had instructed me not to open it until we got home, so I put it in the back of the wagon with the other shopping we did. When even that did not last, I thought of the beautiful toys in Grandfather’s shop. Each and every detail came flooding too me, and I relaxed, other thoughts no longer nagging at me.
        As soon as we arrived home, and I was told to go inside as Father carried in all the shopping we had done. So, I went and sat on the couch in the living room, and waited. I thought about why they would want me to do such a thing, as I usually helped carry in things, even though I was of little real help. But I decided it was for the best.
        When Mother and Father were finished, they sat on their chairs, and Father set the final bag on the table, which I assumed containing the item that made everyone nervous.
        “Why don’t you go ahead and open it, dear?” Mother encouraged the curiosity in me, and I opened the bag to find a doll with two boxes. As I picked it up, I thought it might scream and run away, it was so lifelike. Pale white skin, covered in porcelain everywhere I felt, piercing green eyes, long red hair, and a bedazzling green ball dress that matched her eyes perfectly. It looked more like a miniature person than an actual toy.
        “That’s beautiful.” Mother said with genuine awe and appreciation. Father said nothing, just nodded his head. I took a look at the two wooden boxes, one being patterned after a wardrobe, and the other like a normal sized jewelry box.
        “Dalia, may I speak to you privately?” Father asked, the nervousness in his voice peeking out very guardedly.
        “Of course.” I got up, clutching my new prized possessions in my hands as I walked into my room, Father following me. When I arrived, I sat on my bed, and Father on the chair across from me
        “Dalia, your doll, it’s very special. She may be dressed in a ball gown, but she’s a powerful warrior princess. She was made to guard you in your dreams, and talk with you in the daytime. So, I want you to open up the box in your right hand.” I looked at the rose-carved box, and opened it to reveal a suit of armor, a bow and quiver of arrows, and a short sword.
        “You have to put that on her every day, or else she can’t guard you. Understand?” Part of me didn’t, but I slowly nodded anyways.
        “Very good. Now, we’ll have lunch, and then you have chores to do. You can play afterwards.” Father smiled, and patted me on the head as he left. I shut the box, and put everything away before getting changed to have lunch.

…

        After my chores, I dashed to my room with more speed than a mouse after his cheese. Once inside, I closed the door, and picked up the doll. I smiled, and decided to give this warrior princess a name.
        “Hmm, what will I call you? Alyss? Gabrielle? I know! I shall call you Princess Evelyn.” Smiling at Evelyn, and I stood to set her on the mantel, but a few steps in, I tripped. Evelyn went spinning out of my hands, and fell to the ground with an “Oof!” I stared at her in wonder, and seeing her look back at me, I was sure she blinked.
        “Oh, drat.” The voice was like that of a teenage girl, like the Addison’s girls as she shook her head and stood up. “Well, no use hiding it.” I had grown used to witches stories, and knew that this wasn’t a bewitched object, otherwise, it would have already activated when I touched it, and chased me around the house or other some such.
        “You are a warrior princess! It’s like Father said!” I shouted, jumping in the air.
        “SSH!” The doll had a powerful voice, despite being less than a foot high. “You want your parents to know? They don’t seem to be as welcoming of magic as you are.” Realizing my fault, I shut my mouth. “And I’m not a princess. I’m a Guardian, just a warrior.” I listened to her and realized that I went out of place.
        “My apologies.” I said, unsure of what to do.
        “It’s fine.” The Guardian shrugged her shoulder very calmly.
        “So, do you have a name that you prefer over Evelyn?” I raised my eyebrows, afraid that I gave her a name that she may hate.
        “Guardians are, by nature, servants of their charge’s wills, therefore, the bonded child is always the one who names us.” Evelyn looked at me like a teacher looks at the laggard in class.
        “I understand.” I said even though I had no idea what she was saying.
        “Good. Now we understand each other.” Evelyn’s shoulders slumped as she let out a huge sigh.
        “So, what are you?” I asked.
        “I don’t know much about how I was created. The only things I do know are that magic birthed me, and that my duty is to guard you in your dreams.” I nodded, and sat on my bed.
        “But, I can also talk with you about other things, and lend an extra ear if need be.” She said.
“Okay. Oh!” I realized I needed to check on my other dolls, and hurried to my shelf.
…
        As the sun set on the horizon, I changed into my bedclothes, and picked up Evelyn. I whispered in her ear “There’s no one around.” She blinked, and took a look at her present situation.
        “Please, Dalia, don’t pick me up like that. Talk to me like a normal person.” I set her down quickly, apologizing.
        “It’s fine.” She started shamelessly undressing, revealing her entire figure. I turn away, embarrassed.
        “It’s fine to look. You’re female, and you’ll eventually look like me.” I turn back, and saw that her figure looked a lot like Mother, who was a few years older than Evelyn looked.
        Grandfather made every detail impeccable, she looked like a teenage girl from head to toe. Evelyn tried to open the latch on the box containing her armor, but physically couldn’t. I helped her open the box, and getting her the pieces. Once finished, she looked even more beautiful in any dress or gown. She was made for this armor, and her attitude showed it.
        “Now, all you need to do is just sleep.” Evelyn said, donning her helmet. “I’ll watch over you.” Afraid of my nightmares, but reassured by Evelyn, it didn’t take long for me to fall asleep. But as I drifted from the waking world, I wondered what Evelyn would do to the monsters that haunted me.
…
        I awoke deep in the woods, the scent of dirt and grass heavy on my nostrils, and the light nonexistent. Struggling to rise, my entire body protested against it. I looked around, and saw Evelyn searching through the darkness and trees, like a hawk scanning the horizon for the unsuspecting hare. Instead of her one-foot-tall doll form, I would probably stand to her midriff. She had her bow out, and an arrow nocked, but she didn’t put any draw on it quite yet.
        “Keep quiet.” I barely heard her voice, she spoke so low “Eventually, the monster will come for you, and that’s when I will strike.” I smelled it before I saw it, the stench of wet dog. I shut my mouth, and sat with my knees against my chest, praying to whoever was listening that I would make it out safe. But my prayers were interrupted by a howl that froze my veins and stopped my heart mid-beat. I heard the twang of a bowstring, and turned to see Evelyn ready another shot. The rumbling footsteps warned me of danger, but not wanting to disobey her, I sat still.
        The werewolf burst into view, brown fur covering its entire body, and the odor of wet dog hung on him like a king’s robes and cape. It bore the arrow in its right shoulder with total disregard, it did not exist to the seven-foot beast. Evelyn fired again, this time catching it in the other shoulder. It gave a bestial howl of fury and pain, then leapt at her. Evelyn was ready, rolling to the side, drawing her short swords at the end of it, and proceeded to summon some sort of mystical force.
        A whitish glow bathed Evelyn in its light, and she smiled, eyes glowing. She thrust her right hand outward, and the light turned green in her hand. Vines burst from the ground, stopping the werewolf dead in its tracks. The beast roared as I ran from it blood boiling as its target was constantly switching from me, the delicate girl that all monsters enjoy best, to Evelyn, the warrior that injured it.
        Evelyn spared it the decision by putting an arrow between its eyes. I screamed in fright and shock. But as the beast dissolved into dust, I realized that this wasn’t real, that I was dreaming.
        “And that is what Guardians do.” Evelyn’s shoulders slumped as she sighed. She unstrung the bow, and sat down.
        “You mean…” I couldn’t wrap my head around the subject, so I left it blank.
        “Yup, we vanquish the monsters.” She said, brushing back her hair. I sighed, and felt the world around me fade.

…

        I wake up back in my room, the feather mattress not stained with cold sweat that I had become so used to. But that wasn’t the only thing that was new. Floating an arm’s length above me, eyes wide and smile fading, was a small boy about my age. He blinked a couple time, then turned to an upright position, thinking.
        “This isn’t right; she’s not supposed to wake up this calm. Could it be…” He left the rest blank.
        “Who are you?” I said, restraining myself enough not to scream and shout at him. The boy turned to me, pure befuddlement in his eyes.
        “You… can see me?” He seemed to be asking me and not at the same time, like he was just talking for the sound.
        “Yes.” I shakily gathered my thoughts.
        “Well, you have said that a long time ago!” His demeanor wasn’t malicious, but mischief was definitely high on the list. “I’ve given up on you for a long time. But I just thought I’d keep at it for just a little bit longer, and well, you know.”
        “Wait, you created the nightmares?” I was starting to lose grip on my emotions.
        “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to talk with you.” He said.
        “I’ve been afraid to go to bed for four years because of you!” I shouted.
        “Shh! Your parents will come in, and we won’t get to talk anymore.” Remembering the time, I nodded warily.
        “So, why are you floating?” I ended the roundabout conversation. “Are you a ghost?”
        “To put it shortly, yes, but I prefer ‘soul of the dearly departed.’” He took a minute to think his decision through. “It’s too long, isn’t it?”
        “A little, yes.” I nodded my head
        “Well, I’m sorry that I caused you so much fear. I just wanted to have fun.” His eyes were sincere, and his stance, although seated, was repentant. I tried to look at this situation from his perspective. He was a ghost of a little, gone far too soon, and all he wants to do is be a… boy. He might have read or have listened to a lot of stories about monsters, and have made up some, and used them to torment girls, as a lot of boys are known to do.
        “Well, I accept your apology.” I sighed, and looked out the window. The curtains were shut, so nothing was really to be seen. “Out of curiosity, how did you… die?”
        “Well, when I was alive, I was always sick, and one day during the fever season, the scarlet fever struck me really badly. No matter how hard me and my parents fought, I just wasn’t strong enough.” A tear welled on my cheek. The poor boy, he never had the chance to really enjoy life, constantly in bed, and never able to venture out of doors.
        “Oh, please don’t cry.” He pleaded. “I don’t want you to cry for me. I’m really happy now. Now I’m never sick. I can stay outside in the middle of winter and not feel any colder than a warm summer’s day.” I sniffled, and nodded as he continued. “I’m forever healthy, and I don’t have to worry about anybody anymore.”
        “So, now that you know that I don’t want any more nightmares, can you stop?” I was certain he’d say yes, but you can’t be sure with ghosts.
        “Well, I don’t know how to stop.” He said. “All I wanted to do was talk with you. I think the nightmares are a side effect.”
        “Well, let’s talk in the morning. I need to sleep.” I said, lying back in bed.
        “OK.” The voice was dejected, but accepting that while he was undead, and didn’t want for such things, I was mortal, and craved for them. “Good night.”
        “Good night.” I said, closing my eyes. “I realized I never asked for your name.”
        “Benjamin.” He said. “And I know yours, Dalia.” Sleep overcame me, and the world faded to black.

…
        
        Morning came for the first time I remembered in two long years, the rooster blaring out its cry for all to hear. I gave a yelp of fright nearly, jumping out of bed, I was so scared. Benjamin was watching me, and he shot up in the air as I did so.
        “Whoa!” He said, nearly colliding with me “Are you OK?” Nothing was really painful, it was more surprised that actually hurt.
        “Yeah.”  I mumbled, still half asleep even though I just got a giant wake-up call.
        “Well, that’s good. So, what are we going to do?” Benjamin asked me. Groggily, I put up a hand to stop him.
        “Wait until I wake up first.” I said. I slowly got dressed, and opened the door to go do my chores. A sweeping regimen, then dusting, and anything else I can do with my small stature and strength, Benjamin not far from me the whole time. Not only did the simple tasks supply with exercise of sorts, they allowed my mind a chance to get out of the sleepy state sooner by activity. Once everything was finished, I wiped off the sweaty feeling off my forehead.
        “Well, now what?” Benjamin was full of energy and ready to go, as to be expected of a 6-year old ghost.
        “We get Evelyn, and figure out what’s going on.” I went back to my room, and grabbed Evelyn along with her armory and wardrobe, Benjamin watching me intently as if I was trying to insult him by grabbing a girl’s toy. But he seemed fine after I walked out of my room. We went out the front door to the chicken coop. My two hens, Eden and Lydia, cluck a greeting, and continue their conversation. I set Evelyn down, and whispered in her ear “Evelyn?”
She blinked twice, then groaned in pain, as if the fight last night actually happened. She struggled to get up, and after undressing and putting on a farm girl’s dress I laid out for her, she looked at me with a ponderous expression.
        “So, what’s going on?” She asked.
        “It’s a ghost, and he was trying to talk to me.” I said.
        “Huh.” Was all she said.
        “Can you help me?” I asked.
        “Sorry, I was only born yesterday with very little knowledge of anything.” She shook her head. “I may look like a teenager, but I am a very dumb teenager.”
        “Well, ghosts are spirits rooted to the living world because of unresolved issues.” I though aloud. I turned to Benjamin, hopeful.
        “I want to tell my parents not to worry about me, because I hear them crying sometimes. I want them to worry about the people that need them.” Benjamin sighed, and he lowered about a whole foot. I nodded.        
        “What’s your last name?” I asked.
        “I think… It was something like… Bay, Gay, Day… Something like that.” Benjamin said, and I knew the answer.
        “Grey?” I asked.
        “I think so.” My eyebrows skyrocketed upwards. This boy had the same last name as me. He could be an ancient ancestor, unlikely as we knew the same language, or my brother.  
        “That’s my last name!” I said.
        “Mother was going to have another baby before the fever took me.” Benjamin’s eyebrows creased, and he put his hand over his mouth. “Hmm, we could be brother and sister!”
        “That could be possible.” Evelyn said. I had forgotten she was there, so I started to freak out before my memory kicked in again.
        “But, let’s ask around before we go to Mother and Father.” I said. “We can’t let Mother and Father find out that I’m talking to you. I better get inside before they wake up.” I stood up, gathered Evelyn and her things, and walked out of the coup, wondering what to do.
        When I came in, I brushed the straw off my pants, went to the living room, and sat down. I mulled over the information I had just gathered.
        “It’s amazing, how a ten-year-old girl like you can handle this, especially with the time given to you.” Evelyn said, sitting on my lap. “Normally, even a full grown woman couldn’t take this kind of stress and still be sane.”
        “My mother always told me that panicking only helps in making things worse.” I sighed, relaxing everything as the warm summer sun took effect. I heard Mother and Father’s door open, and them murmuring.  Evelyn froze, and I took out a hairbrush, and straighten out all the tangles in her hair from last night and this morning.
        “Good morning, Dalia.” Mother turned the corner from the kitchen, smiling sleepily. “Sleep well?” I nodded, pretending to be absorbed with Evelyn. Mother slipped back into the kitchen, and I heard the sounds of breakfast being prepared. Father walked into the living room, murmuring a “Hello.”, with sleepiness laden on like molasses. I replied in kind, and continued with Evelyn’s hair, even though it was straightened.
        After a few more swipes, I picked up Evelyn and her things, and went to my room. I sighed as Benjamin immediately flew in and made himself at home.
        “So, what now?” Benjamin went into a laid-back position, completely unfazed about the entire world.
        “Did my parents look like yours?” I said. “I mean, exactly like them?” That would at least narrow the margin greatly.
        “Yes, they did. I’m thinking that we are brother and sister, Dalia.” I nodded, thinking the exact same thing.
        “Or, you’re her uncle, or even great uncle.” Evelyn stood up in bed. “It’s possible that you generated a generation or two after you died.” We nodded.
        “Then we have to visit Grandfather.” I said, looking at Benjamin’s eyes. Although his body was transparent, the emotions weren’t. He showed a level of maturity that could only come from an age of living alone.
        “Until then, I think we should try not to speak to each other or do anything with each other in any way.” Benjamin said. “It’s for the best, so that your parents don’t find out about me until we tell them what I want to say to them.”
        “Yes, it is.” I hold out my hand for him to shake, then remember that he isn’t alive. “Sorry.”
        “It’s fine. I get the symbol.” Benjamin passes through the wall of the house, and fades out of sight. I went back out to the living with Evelyn and Agnes, my second best doll, and set everything up for a tea party.
…
Several months had passed since that fateful night and day. Every nightmare I had was quenched by Evelyn, and I had rarely seen Benjamin in all that time. He had kept his promise well; the only times I saw him were from a distance.
        However, Evelyn rested at home today, me having left him her there to recover after last night. Today I was going to Grandfather’s for Christmas dinner. Old Hugh slowly cantered along the road as we caroled in the carriage. Unlike the first time we visited him, the land was blanketed with white, and little flakes from the heavens above were cascading down us. Packed with as many clothes as we could comfortably wear, the cheer hung thick in the air, unlike the somber atmosphere that took hold that fateful day.
        “Mother, why haven’t we gone to do this sooner?” I asked, the cold affecting me even though I was bundled up like a swaddled babe.
        “I don’t know, darling. Ask Father.” She said.
        “It’s because I got so caught up in working, that I never really thought about anything but supporting our family.” Father gave Old Hugh another urge with the reins.  “It’s not the right thing to do, but more people than you know do it.”
        “OK. Well, I wish that we can visit him for holidays every year!” I announced cheerfully. Mother and Father smiled, and Father urged Hugh once more. I sighed, as I settled more into Mother’s lap, and listened to her breathing. But shortly, another carol began, and I joined in, my voice ringing in with my parents’
        When we at last arrived to town, we hitched up our carriage, and ran to Grandfathers’, so that we didn’t get any wetter than we had to. I quickly ran out of breath, as for every step my parents took, I had to take two or three. But thankfully, Father swept me up, and I spent the majority of the trip on his shoulders.
        At last, we arrived at the door of “Toys for the Hearth and Home”, somewhat dry and tired. I was set down, and the door was opened. We entered the shop, and announced our arrival. Grandfather came out, a jovial smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye that reminded me of Father Christmas. I ran to him, and he lifted me off my feet, eliciting a shrill of joy from me.
        “Oh, you came!” He was happier than I ever imagined Father Christmas could ever be. “I was afraid, because of all that snow, that you wouldn’t.”
        “Well, here we are, Grandfather. Happy Christmas.” I said as Grandfather embraced me. I was set down as my parents went to give holiday greetings.
        “A shame Clarice isn’t here to join us in this feast.” Father sighed after greetings. After all customs were observed, Grandfather led us upstairs to his home, which was single-room, with one bed tucked away in a corner, a stove in the other, where a final dish was being prepared. Grandfather took it off the stove, and revealed it as the main dish, the beef roast. My eyes nearly went out of their places at the size, he obviously expected more people.
        “Well, your brother and his family are supposedly visiting from the farm nearest to us.” I remembered seeing my uncle once on the way back from a trip to town to buy supplies. He didn’t look like a farm worker, more like an artist in the town. The fact that he did indeed work a farm surprised me. I heard the downstairs door open once again, and Grandfather rushed down to greet my uncle. I looked at the feast Grandfather must have slaved to put together in time. Mashed potatoes with a side of gravy, corn, and various other delicacies I only see one day a year. I heard the door open, and in walked Uncle Alexander, with my Aunt Tilly, and Cousins Jack and Sybil.
        “Hello, Nathaniel! Father. Terribly sorry I’m late. I nearly forgot.” He looked to my aunt. “If Tilly hadn’t reminded me; we’d be celebrating Christmas at the farm.” Aunt Tilly waved him off in mock anger, but her eyes betrayed all. Uncle Alexander had certainly lightened up and grown more muscle since I last saw him. Aunt Tilly was dashing, simply dressed but lit the whole room up with her beauty, but she could never match my mother. My cousins looked to be around my age, the boy had messy brown hair and looked like he had recently fell in the snow, and mischief plain in his entire body. The girl was smiling shyly at everyone, and I smiled back when my turn came.
        “Oh, what would you do without her, Alexander?” Father embraced him, and Mother exchanged greetings with Aunt Tilly. I went up to my cousins.
        “Hi, Dalia!” The boy was the louder one of the siblings, and offered his hand out to me
        “Hello, Jack” I took it, and the shake was very brisk and strong.
        “Now that we got that out of the way…” He quickly embraced me,
        “Hi, Dalia.” She said, offering her hand. I took it, and we embraced as well.
        “Well, now that everybody’s greeted each other,” Grandfather clapped his hands together. “let’s sit at the table.” We all made our way to our places, the children sitting together, and the adults filling the remaining seats. Linking hands, we bowed our heads in reverence, and allowed Grandfather to say grace.
…
        Having eaten my fill and more of the delicious feast, I sat on the couch, contented. Grandfather walked to me, a carol on his lips, and stopped.
        “What’s on your mind, Dalia?” Grandfather asked, concern on his face. The distant memory of the promise was recalled, and I motioned for him to come closer.
        “I need to ask you about Benjamin Grey.” I whispered in his ear. Grandfather stiffened in surprise, and he sighed.
        “Let me bring you into my office.” I was led to the corner of the room containing his bed, and I sat ready to listen.
        “Before you were born, your parents had a little boy named Benjamin.” He began. “He was a sickly little fellow. I only saw him a few times, but when I did, he was in bed for some fever or disease. One day, he wasn’t there, and I think your father blames me for not helping him more than I did. You see, I wasn’t nearly as talented as I am now, so they shut me out in their grief, and never spoke of him again. Please don’t tell your parents I told you this, they’ll never forgive me.” I nodded, giving him my word, and the burden lifted somewhat. I went and waited eagerly for the exchange of gifts with my cousins.
        When gifts finally came and unwrapped, there were “Just what I wanted!” and “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” flying everywhere. I had received one of the stuffed bears from Grandfather, a dress from Uncle Alexander’s family, and a few other things that I wanted. But I smiled bigger as other people opened their gifts. Private gift exchanges were sure to be had later this week, but the gathering of the extended family was what it was all about. Even the children, who were mainly here for the gift exchange, understood the true spirit of Christmas far beyond the services of the church. I sighed, hugging my new bear, as goodbyes were said, and plans were made for next visits. Leaving the place, I felt a great weight had truly been lifted from my shoulders as I sat on Mother’s lap as the carriage slowly rolled onwards.
…
        Benjamin was waiting in my room when I got back. I closed the door, and he immediately started talking. “So what did he say?” I sighed.
        “We’re brother and sister.” I said, and he nodded.
        “I figured, but it was good to figure out anyways. So, when do we talk?” He asked. I thought for a minute or so.
        “Maybe a little while. I’ll say that I dreamt about you, but after the holidays.” I remained firm, and Benjamin nodded.        
        “Okay. I don’t think I can wait much longer. I really want to talk to them.” I nodded.
        “Soon, Benjamin. Very soon.” Benjamin smiled as the words left my mouth.
…
        It was a very long month, with nothing much to do, I occupied myself with my toys and other things I could help with around the house. But I kept to myself mostly, barely socializing with anyone, and staying away from other people whenever possible. When Mother or Father pressed me for answers, I brushed them off, and they accepted it as a phase of change. But it killed me to see them in such pain for me and to not try to comfort them in any way.
        But today was the day I would tell them. Rising from bed, I put on my dress, and Benjamin was waiting above. I told him what I planned, that I would tell them after lunch, and we would talk for a while. He nodded, showing confirmation to put my plan to action.
        “Well, I think it best if I stay with you.” He said, and I nodded. He’ll want to see Mother and Father. I sighed, and prepared myself for the next few hours.
…
        “Mother, Father? I need to tell you something.” They looked at me, and sighed.
        “What is it, Dalia?” Mother asked. I took a deep breath, and began.
        “About a month ago, I dreamt about my little brother.” Mother’s eyebrows shot up, and Father stiffened in fear. “He wanted to tell you some things.”
        “You don’t have a brother, Dalia.” Father said, voice rigid.
        “Yes, I do. His name was Benjamin, who died of scarlet fever seven years ago. He’s the reason you shut Grandfather out.” Mother was scared out of her wits, and Father was worse.
        “He wanted me to tell you not to worry about him.” I continued, and Mother started to break down, tears welling in her eyes. Father looked on the verge of it, but remained stoic as possible. “He doesn’t have to worry about getting sick anymore, and being a burden to you.” Mother started silently sobbing, the tears she tried to hide pouring out onto her face. Father knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder.
        “He can run free in Heaven, and not lie in bed, constantly suffering. He can finally grow up, and be the boy he was born to be.” Mother started to audibly sob, old wounds reopened by the thought of her dead son. Father was on the verge of crying himself, but held it in extremely well.
        “God, I want him back so badly.” Mother said between sobs. “He was never a burden to us. Family is never a burden to bear.” I heard Benjamin sigh, as if a great weight was lifted from him. “I wish him to run as fast and far as he wants to, and to wait for all of us to come to him in our time.” I turned to Benjamin, and he nodded, silently crying. I saw his body fading, his final moments in this world spent knowing that although he needed extra care, they never felt that he was just dead weight.
        “Dalia, now I know why you were so different this past month. You were waiting to tell us.” Mother embraced me, the grief turned to joy. “Thank you so much. I want you to know I’m grateful, Dalia.” Father was silent as the grave, his face showing no expression. But I felt his love as well when we all embraced, me knowing that I at least brought closure to our family, and now, ties can be remade, and bonds reforged. I smiled, knowing that I would be remembered as a family hero. But I couldn’t have done it without Grandfather.







…
        “It’s a baby boy.” I held my child, wailing from the discomfort of the real world. I shushed him, calming him by bringing him close. He stopped almost as soon as he began, opening his eyes to look upon me. His blue eyes shone with confidence, and his brown hair was barely poking out of his scalp.
        “He’s beautiful.” I said, the love I felt ready to burst out of me like a fish jumping out of a lake.
        “What should we name him, Dalia?” My husband asked me. I smiled, already knowing the answer.
        “Benjamin.” I said, giving my older brother a new start under my protection.
        











AUTHOR’S FINAL NOTE
        Two months after the first idea came to me like a sucker punch, I knew this to be the story I wanted to write. I wish I had more time to write about more adventures of Evelyn, Dalia, and Benjamin, but maybe there will be a sequel or companion story in the future. Regardless, it was a great experience, and I hope you got a great experience!

















ACKNOLEDGEMENTS
To my parents, for birthing not only this idea, but me so I may have this idea.
To my brother, who probably has severe ear trauma from hearing all about this story over and over again.
To my readers. It isn’t easy to critique, and I understand you probably have better things to do than read my story.
To my teachers, for endorsing this idea.
To my mentor, MCS1 Brian Iylankoff, for your contributions not only to this book, but in helping me with my career path.
And to several musicians for their work. Without you guys, this story might not have been completed on schedule!











ABOUT THE AUTHOR
        Tristan Nolan is a teenager who aspires to write at least as a part time career. He loves fiction as a means to live a different life, if only for an hour or so at a time. Among his other hobbies are reading, walking, and listening to music. He currently lives in Bellevue with his parents, grandparents, his younger brother and possibly a cat in the near future.