Tears of Pure Ice

The funeral procession seemed to strech for miles without end as Freya looked on in mourning. The shining black casket reflected the early morning's light. Freya's glittering ice blue wings matched the pure ice tears that she shed and she knew she had failed the child she had been chosen to watch over.

Freya remembered the first time she had seen this boy. He was only 5 years old. Sweet and innocent, his green eyes were the window into the trauma-filled past he had had. An abusive drug addict for a father who hit him for no reason at all. A small spill would earn him a slap to the face, a whimper in the night was anything from a slam into the wall to a bite on his small body.

He had almost no mother to speak of since she was afraid of his father too. She would run away for days and return with other men when she knew he was gone. The other men didn't know of the young boy's existance. He was to stay hidden when they were around. His mother didn't want them to know she had a child and a husband. If he was seen he was beaten.

Freya had seen him hiding in the woods outside his home. Tears rolled down his face as huge welts formed on his face and body. He looked at her, small and fluttering above him, his eyes pleading for help. She felt so bad for him, but all she could do was watch over him. She had no magic wand to disappear all his troubles, no magic powers to make his parents nice. The most she could do was make sure that nothing bad happened to him, get him out of harm's way when need be.

This boy had fallen in love with Freya and the way she was always there for him. He would talk to her about everything from his worries and fears to his hopes and dreams. She would hide him when his father was home, she would scare the other men away by getting the father home when they were there. The young boy would laugh when Freya played tricks on his parents, then hide him in the woods when they got mad. She wanted to stay with this child forever.

Now, Freya's bright blue eyes leaked tears of pure ice for the small child in the casket, killed by his father while Freya had her back turned. She was racing the boy, wings againsed legs, to catch a butterfly that had flown past. She was ahead, laughing hysterically, him only a few inches behind doing the same. The drunken man had lumbered out of the house. Freya turned to get the boy out of the way, but it was too late. The shot of the gun, bloodcurdeling screams, and a puddle of blood on the bare earth. The drunken laughter and one last breath before his beating heart stilled and he was no more.

Freya felt as if she had failed the boy. She was put with him to protect and comfort him. She was there as a well needed and deserved friend. She hated herself for what she had done and as the casket was opened as everyone walked past to say their final goodbyes, Freya zoomed in unseen. She nestled herself by his feet until the casket was closed and flew up and layed on his still chest. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a vial of poison. She raised he bottle to her quaking lips as the tears continued to fall down her face. The bottle was emptied into her system and she lay back down, waiting patiently for the now inevidable.

As the poison took hold, Freya whispered her last goodbyes to the child and rested peacefully on his chest. Her body went limp and her eyes closed, but she wore a smile on her face. She would be with her best friend forever now, and everything would be alright. Fairy and child running in the woods chasing down butterflies and dreams. Never again did they have to worry about the cruelties of the world as they took their first steps together into the beautiful light that signaled they had made it to where they were meant to be.