A Prologue

The sun cast its golden rays out on the open meadow. Here, in the middle of Spring, a boy sat. His eyes, full of happiness and mischief, smiled back at the gleaming sun. His thin lips twisted into a grin. The crop of black hair sitting upon his head started to shine, glimmering with exuberant grace. His head swiveled slightly to the left, examining the girl beside him.

She was shivering. He questioned the action, but he soon found his answer; the sky was growing unkind, settling into a chilly breeze to match its mood. The sun started to be overwhelmed by the myriad of dark clouds forming. With extreme intuition, the boy judged they had a few minutes before they were forced to leave.

In the silence between the two, he turned fully to face his friend. Still shivering and glaring at the sky, the girl's brunette hair spilled over her shoulders, hugging her childish frame. With his innocent benignity, he moved his posterior across the grass between them, closing the distance with an affectionate hug.

The little girl smiled; her dimples flowered before his eyes. He returned the gesture. A stray lock of hair fell over her light blue eyes, a deep contrast against the color. His face soured as he pushed it to the side.

"I want to stay," the girl whispered. The clouds started to breathe heavily; thunder boomed across the meadow. "I want to stay," she repeated.

"Okay," his smile widened. "Daddy doesn't need me yet." The little girl snuggled up to her best friend.

The sky flashed. A bolt of lightning flew across the sky, snapping at the land far from them. The two did not care; as long as the sky did not cry on them, they were content. From their sitting position, they grew tired; the two held each other close as they lay on the dew sprayed grass. Flowers bended beneath their bodies as they struggled to keep warm.

"Do you think we'll be able to stay like this... forever?" the little girl asked solemnly. "I just want to live here... I don't want to go back..."

The boy snickered. He ran a hand through her wavy hair. "Taylor, I pinky-swear that no one will take us away from each other. Never." He stuck a tiny pinky out from his clenched fist, motioning for Taylor to do the same.

She began to giggle. It was contagious, and the boy did the same. The two locked their pinkies together and made their oath. "I promise," Taylor repeated. But, the boy did not speak immediately. His laughter had ceased. Taylor nudged him with her free hand.

"...Michael?" she inquired. "Do you promise?" Taylor's forehead creased into confusion.

Michael returned to reality, no longer transfixed on the empty air beside her head. With a hoarse throat, he choked out the words. "I do." A tear ran down his cheek. The two eight-year-olds' bond was now set in stone.

Taylor giggled again. She poked him profusely. Michael's mood lightened up, his thoughts that had saddened him suddenly banished. He obliged and returned the gesture, poking her in the belly.

He thought as he tried to fend off vicious prods. Maybe, the bad man behind Taylor won't take us away. The figure, standing ominously behind his friend, wore dark garments for his attire. His face was scarred and pale. Taylor was oblivious to the stranger. She didn't have the slightest idea that spirits watched them constantly. Michael did, sadly.

The man stared with unblinking eyes at Michael. Desperately avoiding his gaze, he retaliated with the poke-war. The stranger let loose a deep, guttural laugh, and disappeared as a gust of wind picked up.

Maybe, Michael grimly thought. Just maybe.