A Mortal Lover: Part 4 (Heath's story)
By Zane Hunter Green
Once again this story is an adult fantasy. It is copyrighted to it's Author.
Jasper relaxed by a small fireplace. "I have to be especially careful," he told Mal, "as I would never hear a fire alarm were one to go off." He took a metal prong and moved the log, motioned to Mal to sit down, and began the story:
"Where the vagrant woman found the boy, no one knew, however he was useful as a prop when she sat on the corner begging. His sweet face, with the large blue-gray eyes, and the greasy unwashed mane of silver-blond hair that somehow reminded you of a waterfall with the sunlight dancing on it, brought her more money that she could ever have dreamed of on her own. She planned to keep the boy for a very long time; he was no trouble except that which made people sympathetic also made them curious. He didn't look like her brat, no matter how ill-dressed he was. She smeared his face with dirt, although the way they lived on the street, and in church shelters, it wasn't hard to make him tattered and grungy.
One early May morning a crone-like old woman who was her friend told her that the luck of the golden boy was about to turn against her. She should rid herself of him before she would be taken to the gaol, accused of kidnapping him. She asked several people's opinions, and they agreed that people might start to wonder why he wasn't in school.
She was loath to give him up to an orphanage or some such place, until the old lady prompted her by making mention of another friend who could bring her a fortune in return for the boy. She was suspicious, but agreed to meet with him. The amount of money was tempting.
This man lived on the edge of the law; he preyed on the homeless population, looking for runaway girls that he could pimp. He wasn't the least bit interested in boys, they were too hard to control, however he was asked by one of the crime lords if any of the girls had a young son, or a baby boy that a friend of his could adopt. The man's jaw dropped when he was told how much the man would pay. Of course he the boy had to be a pretty and obedient lad, and a young boy was preferred over a baby.
Well once it was all explained to her, she thought of the boy. He was quiet, almost stupidly so, yet his eyes were always so expressive. He said so few words...and yet he would follow her and listen, and for all the world he had no one else but her. He had wandered into life one day, and there had never been a sign that he was missed by anyone. She wanted the money more than the boy, and agreed to turn him over after she was paid. It would be more money than she hoped to see in a lifetime. To that degree she felt she was doing well by the boy. He would have a real house to live in, and decent food and clothes.
The boy was taken away that night, and from the beginning when the woman made him place his small hand in that of the strange man he was scared. He had never ridden in a car before, and the thing was unpleasant. It raddled and chocked as he was driven out of the city into the countryside.
The farmhouse where they stopped was miles away from any neighbor. It was small and rustic, yet it looked like a mansion to the boy. Gulls and terns that flew overhead indicated that they were close to the sea. A tall lean man met the car, and the driver carried him out, and handed him over. He had already been purchased. Without more than a few words, the procurer got back in his sedan, and drove off.
The man looked the boy up and down. "You're pretty enough, you'll do. This is your home from now on. When I'm not here, you shall be living with a Mr. Bender, who you will meet in good time. You shall call me Master, and I will call you; he looked in those frightened blue-gray hued eyes. Your eyes remind me of heather that will be your name."
"Heather?"
"Yes, I like that name for you. You belong to me now, you must always listen to me and obey, and otherwise I will be forced to hurt you.
The man reached over a fingered the boy's silken flax colored hair. His fingers didn't stop, and he admired the small flawless body before him.
"You are flawless now, Heather, you were gifted with beauty."
The man turned from him and felt his own course face. "You may be lovely now Heather, but the world will never hold a place for you. Your appearance will further alienate you from others, and you too will learn not only to hate, but despise yourself. Well never you mind, I will protect you for now, follow me inside."
It was difficult for one who was taciturn to talk to the child that he had purchased mostly to ward off his own loneliness. Heath grew up like me, in a world almost devoid of sound, at least the sounds of human voices. Touch was the only form of communication that his Master demanded. Mr. Bender turned out to be an old man; he cooked and kept the house in order, only sometimes mumbling quick words to the boy.
Heath became ever more dreamlike and docile. He was a child with a broken spirit. He submitted to his Master's wishes completely. Harsh nails would pierce his skin, and his body would become inflamed.
Time had no meaning or shape. Seasons would pass like dust particles falling. The only thing that kept him striving was the walks he was allowed to take around the endless property. The farmhouse was surrounded by 40,000 acres, and there was much to explore. He made friends of the trees, the rocks, and those small animals that dwelled there. It was his playground, and haven.
The time passed when Heath didn't come home. He spent the night contemplating a water death. He had never seen the ocean before he moved in with the Master, and each day that was where his wandering ended. He would look at the distant horizon for a long time, fill his lungs with the salt air, and watch the fishing boats far away. Finally he would force himself to turn away like a slip of metal pulling back from a magnet. He would return back to the farmhouse and spend the night wrapped in his Master's arms.
One day however he didn't fight it anymore. The ocean called him. He slowly took off his clothes, laid them on the rocks, and made his way down to where the sea meets the land. The rocks tore at his feet, but he in half frenzy ignored the pain.
The ocean wasn't gentle. It stung the places where the rocks had lashed out trying in their own way to stop him. The water was cold like icy fingers, and tried in its own way to warn him that it wasn't a comfortable nest for him, and it wasn't his time.
He kept going, wading out where he could no longer stand. He couldn't swim. Yet the sea kept tossing him back. He would get so far, and its tide slammed him against the shore. Finally he no longer had any fight in him. He lost the battle with the sea, it didn't want him, and he no longer wanted to die. He climbed up, and sat on a barnacle crusted rock that some faded fishing line had wrapped around and cried his eyes out. The tears more bitter than the ocean's bite
He shivered with the winds, yet he still didn't have the strength to climb back to his clothes. He stayed there all night, and when day light came he was chilled to the bone, his nose was running and he was burning up.
Somehow he made his way back to the farmhouse, when he turned up naked and feverish, his weary Master didn't know if he should beat him for the worry he was put through. Then he saw the sorrowful face and small framed shaking body as if he had never noticed that it belonged to another human being before.
He finally felt compassion; He lifted Heath up, hugged him to his raw beating chest, and told him.
"I love you little one, I really love you."
Heath never heard those words. For many days his body ached with the fever. The first few days the Master never left his side, wrapping his arms around the sweating boy, but he was terrified of sickness, and after a few days he departed from Heath. Getting a Doctor for him was too risky. Heath now lay in bed covered with soft woolen blankets for several more weeks, fighting but only a shade away from dying. He tossed with dreams that came from another time and place. A wolf howled, and faces that looked softer than human's called him strange names.
He was delirious for almost a month. Mr. Bender nursed him back slowly. One morning he finally woke up, he was weak, but never felt so restless. He tied his hair back, which had grown so long, and was too tangled to brush. His feet hardly kept him up, shaking he walked slowly across the room. A letter from his Master sat propped against the dresser. Mr. Bender had taught him how to slowly read.
The letter was cold, and informative. One had given his illness to the other, and Master lay sick in a hospital in London. He cursed at Heath, and told him that it was time for them to find a placement for him. He no longer wanted him around. He had been scared that the boy would die, and he would be blamed. When he was better he would arrange for Heath to leave. He had legally adopted the boy, but that would be changed.
Mr. Bender, seeing the boy was up quickly told him the other news. The Master had never recovered, and now Heath was the master of all he saw.
Heath had no words. His life was changed, and the Master hated him, yet he sorrowed for him. There was no one else now, but a very old man."
Mal shifted in discomfort. "How sad a tale, how then did he come to meet up with Alex?"
Jasper smiled, as he told him that part of the story
Alex had been bicycling through Europe, and managed to stray into Heath's property. He managed to take a terrific fall, bending the frame. He was fine, but his bike was no longer in any condition to ride. He walked his dented bike up to the farmhouse hoping to borrow the phone and call friends that had stayed behind in town,
There was a young man who answered the door, and Alex turned breathless. He had never seen anyone so beautiful, his heart pounded as he made his request. Heath had returned home for a few weeks, he had been to boarding school, and was taking the summer off before starting a University. The Master had left him enough money to live comfortably. He would have been rich if he sold the land, but even with all the years he lived in America, he wouldn't hear about it.
Heath was quaint in many ways, he never would drive, or wear clothes made of animal skin, but he was always as beautiful as the day is too short. I think that Alex and Heath became lovers that day. Insecure Heath followed him across the seas. Once Alex was vexed with Heath, which didn't happen too often, and complained that Heath was his shadow.
I think Heath was afraid of being alone again, and there was a lot love between them. When Alex first introduced us to Heath we were all jealous of his good fortune. Once Heath said that Alex appealed to him on the spot because he was so normal. Alex grew up in a loving family, and always had confidence in himself.
"But Heath is no longer here, poor Alex. If only Heath was an elf, I could bring him back somehow."
"What if Heath is one of you, where would he be?"
"It would depend on his tribe, but I never heard of a elf-child getting lost, however it is possible. Some things about him sound strange, like the way he just turned up, and his looks. Too bad he didn't have pointed ears, but then again I don't anymore, he could have outgrown them before he came through the veil if he is one of us. How did he age?"
"He always looked like a teenager."
Mal started to think, maybe Heath was an immortal. If he could unite him with Alex perhaps that would help his own cause. Somehow he had to find away to go back, and see if he could figure out who Heath was, and what he was doing here.
Already he felt stronger as he started to feel compassion for the two lovers.