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An Angel's Respite (Chapter Six)
-What did I get myself into?-
Alexander thought as he walked uphill with Odin, his horse trailimg behind him carrying not buckets of water but a whole human being—with wings? At least he thinks there wing, what else would they be? And in his arms a small kid who was apparently named Wilbur.
"I swear to the Gods above, Odin move."
The horse stubbornly remained unmoving as he grabbed the lead around its face like a ripcord and yanked, not hard—just enough for him to start walking again.
Sighing he turned to see the still unconscious person breathing heavily his breath hitching every other inhale. Hester his name is, if he remembers correctly. He jumped over a lip of the mountain, they were climbing and continued walking along.
The mountain wasn't steep having a small lean to it, staying relatively flat with a few minor rocks that jutted out in certain areas—nothing to worry about, he had walked here a dozen times in the last week alone, with buckets of water, to a large number of kindling this was nothing new.
Other then this being entirely new in so many ways—people—he was bringing people to his house, a tired sigh escaped his lips as he again turns to see Hester, messy bright blond hair with a face that seemed older then his, age being etched into the corners of his eyes and mouth, he wore dirty clothes with rips and tears all around it and a dark green cloak that Alexander had seen him wear each time he saw him with holes in the back for his ink-black wings that seemed to be either raven or crow from the colour the feathers were, some are matted and stick out in awkward places making him look more feral and wild then Alexander assumes he is, and if all that wasn't bad enough. A burnt, disformed hand slumped against his horse's chest.
-What the hell did I get myself into?-
As he looks up at the moon trying to gauge the time. Midnight? Gods have faith in him, a part of him wanted to throw the two down the hill and watch them roll, another part of him know he was to much of a coward to do so.
So he continued, he continued walking up the hill holding this small mysterious random child, he could feel it's warm breath on his collarbone, he ignored it.
They made it to another section with a lip forcing them to jump slightly, they made it. On the other side it was covered in a small powder of muddy brown—snow, soon to change into pure white as he continued upwards.
It felt longer then expected to make it to the snow they still had ways to go but making it to the cold weather with wind that tugs at his long hair said they were making progress.
He turned back ever-so slightly this time not looking at Hester but instead behind him, the blue flames seeming to have spread already to the trees making the sky a shade of purple with black and gray smoke rising from the middle of the forest where it first started, the black fumes looking like a stain to the midnight sky, a bruise that had not yet healed.
He continued walking still holding Wilbur in one arm as he wraps the rope around his metal prosthetic in the other, keeping Odin close to him.
Everything was going surprisingly well.
Until it wasn't.
It wasn't anything big, it's just—Wilbur woke up, and began fussing around in his arm, whimpering pathetically in his ear. Which worried Alexander for multiple reasons, -was it cold? What did it want? Did it want Hester?- He couldn't tell in the slightest what anything this kid did meant.
"Stop moving." He hissed at the kid
It just flailed around in his arms trying to wiggle its way out. He continued to hold him tightly close to his neck as he walks making it to freshly plied snow on the ground, Wilbur still being a nuisance in his arms.
He just annoyed tells the kid to quit down.
Failing, the kid almost falls as he hears a small groan behind him he turns to see Hester still unconscious most likely from the pain he feels in his arm—he would definitely have to fix it soon or he'll have to cut it off completely.
He turns back and continues walking, struggling with Wilbur trying to be the most difficult child in the world and succeeding in it. He hears Hester make another wordless jumble of sounds, he ignores it, until he hears something akin to.
"Tem h-h a st'rm-my."
Hester mumbles tiredly
"You want me to, what?"
"Te'll hem a st'ry."
"..."
He couldn't tell in the slightest what anyone wanted and the small voice telling him to push them off and watch them roll was back.
"Tel'l. Him. A. St'ory."
Hester finally choked out.
Alexander knows lots of storys he just didn't think any were appropriate for someone this young.
"Which one?" He said tiredly to Hester, who just pointed to Odin. "Really?" He sighed and began to remember how the story went, he was never good with storys, or talking so this was entirely a new experience, sighing he began.
"One day, a very very long time ago, there was this guy named Odin, he uh, he was the king of some land called the kingdom of clouds, or maybe the kingdom of wind? I'm not sure."
Wilbur babbled happily something akin to a giggle and smiled up at him, he continued.
"And he—being a moron—decided to tell everyone that he was a God, yeah real smart move there I know, or like a God something that rivaled one at least like if he came face-to-face with a God he could beat them up. So a Goddess heared him I believe it was the Goddess of Death—however I could have just be making that up—anyway she took up the challenge, however instead of going herself, because—well y'know? God's have a lot to do, can't just drop everything and go fight some idiot."
He had no idea what he was doing, only ever reading these books, never doing oral storytelling before. However, the kid quietly behaved himself as he spoke seeing to enjoy it as he insults and mocks the characters.
"So the Goddess just throws the task on her two Angles, Tallulah and William, both being foolish enough say yes."
He heard Hester groan again, ignoring it he step on a rock peaking over it he saw a small home in the middle of the plateau, seeing a snow covered forest and a frozen lake beside it, his home.
For as much as he was glad to make it there he wished he could finish the story still he continued as they slowly walked to the house, it begining to snow ever so slightly as the wind blows.
"The two go and meet this king and challenge him. Disguising themselves as two drunk farmers they trick the dumb king into sparring with them, because Odin's a fool like I said before."
His horse seemed to take offense at that and stopped abruptly making him almost fall, he turns to the horse and stares daggers at him, he doesn't comment though. As the kid sees to find it funny.
"He fails and almost dies, however the brother William—did I say their related? It doesn't matter William and Tallulah are siblings, anyway the brother thinks they should spare the king they taught him a lesson, and says that if he backslides they're come back and kill him. But Tallulah—and I personally agree with her on this, cuts the man's arm clean off saying if he ever says he's more then what he's worth she'll take another arm then a leg until there's nothing left of him." He says calmly.
He was expecting the kid to whimper or outright burst into tears or something at this turn of events, but he stays quiet waiting to see what happens next as small snowflakes cover his brown hair.
"Uh, well the king unsurprisingly backslides—as soon as they leave, in fact. Telling everyone that he killed a God, and how just before he could, the God cut off his arm. The Angels return like they promised but when they made it there, they didn't disguise themselves showing up with wings armor, weapons and shields, ready to fight him but they got there, guess what? He fled! Like a coward, runs away from all his problems."
He walked up to his house.
It had three floors one basement, middle, and addict the bottom being made with cobblestone and the top and roof being made out of spruce and dark wood with stairs on the side leading to the side door the front being at the bottom with cobblestone surrounding it, having small rectangle shaped window and a small enclosure made of fences with a roof where he kept Odin.
He dropped the rope and opened the fence gate Odin obediently went in. He grabbed Hester and throw him over his shoulder as Wilbur apparently had falling asleep in his arms unaware of his surroundings.
He walks up the stone stairs and unlocks the side door warm air hits him as he entered moving to the small couch he had, he gently placed Hester on it making him lay down, his injured arm being placed on a small round table he had, then placed Wilbur on Hester's chest making sure both were comfortable, looking around as to what to do next.
His house was small each level having one or two purposes to them.
The first room they were all in had a small red couch with a small table usually used for books the other side of the room had a fireplace that fit into the corner of the room complete opposite to the door, on the other wall was another small wooden door that went out to a deck that overlooked the surrounding area.
Leaving the empty space being coved with two wooden rectangled shaped tables both having be littered with loose pieces of paper, books, plants, miscellaneous jars, and ink pots above the table where storage cabinets were, for when he got the time he would sort and clean everything. (He never did)
Next to the door was a wooden ladder leading up to the attic or down to the basement. Scaling the ladder he poked his head through the hole and went up to his bedroom, he had an old bed a cupboard that had some candles a lighter and a small dagger, also with a few stacks of books on and surrounding the cutboard he walked further in, his head occasionally bumping the short ceiling. On the other side of the room was an entire wall filled with leatherback books, all sorts of books on just about everything, potions, curses, legends, fauna, and folklore to name a few.
He weaved around the stacks of books he had left on the ground moving past them he trailed his hand reading the covers—the moon light from his small window was just barely enough for him to read them.
His hand landed on the book he needed, he pulled out a dusty purple coloured book that had the name "The complete guide to treating burn wounds" in small letters it had the words just barely visible "Only for natural or fauna burns not including curses or witchcraft." He hoped it would have the answers on at least how to soothe the pain or, if he was lucky perhaps heal the burn complete.
He put the book under his shoulder and descended the ladder going below to the basement. It was cold, having a big onion shaped oven, same ones used by apothecaries, at the end of the room the wall opposite to the front door was filled with cupboards making the cobblestone wall behind it unseen as the oak wooden drawers cover the whole side.
He tied his hair into a tight ponytail then starts fliping through pages as he grabs some wood and kindling and throws it in the oven lighting it. He puts his hand to his eyes to shield them from the new light but continued unfazed. Next to the door was a desk having lots of bottles and jars.
He wasn't a witch or a miracle maker, he just did it to kill time by learning something, he knows how to make potions, elixirs, creams, ointments and so on but it was just in case something interesting happend.
He knows how to make basic healing, and harming potions putting the list of ingredients on the wall as a guide to make them, however making a healing potion this strong would take an effort. A lot of effort.
«»«»«»«»«»
Why are you even helping?
What will you even gain from this? They have nothing!
You'll probably just hurt them even more just let it run it's course.
You should just leave them to die.
You should have thrown them off the cliff, it would have been more entertaining.
«»«»«»«»«»
"Stop it." He mumbles under his breath. He needs to focus he had no idea of what he was doing he couldn't get side tracked. Especially getting lost in his own head.
He found the page he was looking for it was a burn ointment used to stop them from getting worse and smoothed the pain.
Tiredly he collected the proper ingredients then, cut, mixed, boiled, and freezed the ointment making a steady elixir that had the look and texture of basic oil.
However reading the recipe it should look like regular olive oil. Satisfied Alexander poured it into a wooden bowl then climbed up to where Wilbur and Hester both were.
He grabbed a small piece of fabric and dipped it into the elixir then wrapped it tightly around Hester's injured arm, his breathing immediately became normal again and his shoulders loosen up he moved his arm subcutaneous and wrapped it around Wilbur then moved on his side with his wings covering the two of them.
Alexander couldn't keep the smile off his face.
However even after, Hester still seemed to be tensed like he was trying to protect Wilbur against something, wraping his arms and legs close to his chest then his wings over them—almost like he was hiding from something.
Alexander loath to think of what could make someone live like that, always on guard always keeping watch, thinking of the worst possible scenario, never fully relaxing.
«»«»«»«»«»
But you do the same thing!
You always think something bad will happen!
What a hypocrite.
Still think you should throw them off a cliff.
«»«»«»«»«»
They snapped at him, Alexander rolled his eyes. "I relax sometimes, why do you think I live in the middle of nowhere?" He snapped back quietly as to not wake Wilbur or Hester, he didn't even realize how tired he was until everything was over.
«»«»«»«»«»
You should have just left them, you're wasting items!
What will you even do with them?
Do you have to feed them?
«»«»«»«»«»
"I don't know, alright? Just let me think." He said under his breath. He had done everything he could have, he would have to see until morning if he messed up the elixir meaning if Hester had died in the morning—which wasn't exactly the worst scenario.
«»«»«»«»«»
Are you going to kill them?
«»«»«»«»«»
"No." He said leaving little room for an argument, as he climbed the ladder leading up to his bedroom. He just wanted to rest even if it meant possible being stab in his sleep—from Hester or the kid he would bet money it was a tie as to who would get to him first.
«»«»«»«»«»
Why?
«»«»«»«»«»
One asked quietly, Alexander kicked off his boots and untied his hair letting it massly falls on his shoulders then sat on his bed sighing holding his head in his hands. Then thought of the thing he had been fighting with for almost a week now, trying to find out why, never really getting an answer he was satisfied with.
"I do not know."
He said truthfully.
The questions that pelted him turned to an uproar of laughter, yells and screams swirling into a deafening loud chaos happing around him as he just sat there unable to stop as his ears ring with the noise, covering his ears knowing that it wouldn't work—just making him look like a child, that was covering his ears on his bed as his hair falls hiding his face like curtains, hiding as they screech the same question over and over again wanting a better answer.
It was so loud.
And so pointless.
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Art made by youreyeslookliketheocean chiyahowo
All writing was originally done on Novelist
The noises Alexander hears is in no way correlated to schizophrenia, this is fantasy and nothing to do with reality in any way, if it does sound like something real, uh my bad ¯_(ツ)_/¯ sorry to make that sound really superficial but if anyone is thinking this is what schizophrenia really is like, I have no clue, if anyone wants that information they should research and go to reliable sources. I. am. not. a. reliable. source.
© All Rights Reserved
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Alexander thought as he walked uphill with Odin, his horse trailimg behind him carrying not buckets of water but a whole human being—with wings? At least he thinks there wing, what else would they be? And in his arms a small kid who was apparently named Wilbur.
"I swear to the Gods above, Odin move."
The horse stubbornly remained unmoving as he grabbed the lead around its face like a ripcord and yanked, not hard—just enough for him to start walking again.
Sighing he turned to see the still unconscious person breathing heavily his breath hitching every other inhale. Hester his name is, if he remembers correctly. He jumped over a lip of the mountain, they were climbing and continued walking along.
The mountain wasn't steep having a small lean to it, staying relatively flat with a few minor rocks that jutted out in certain areas—nothing to worry about, he had walked here a dozen times in the last week alone, with buckets of water, to a large number of kindling this was nothing new.
Other then this being entirely new in so many ways—people—he was bringing people to his house, a tired sigh escaped his lips as he again turns to see Hester, messy bright blond hair with a face that seemed older then his, age being etched into the corners of his eyes and mouth, he wore dirty clothes with rips and tears all around it and a dark green cloak that Alexander had seen him wear each time he saw him with holes in the back for his ink-black wings that seemed to be either raven or crow from the colour the feathers were, some are matted and stick out in awkward places making him look more feral and wild then Alexander assumes he is, and if all that wasn't bad enough. A burnt, disformed hand slumped against his horse's chest.
-What the hell did I get myself into?-
As he looks up at the moon trying to gauge the time. Midnight? Gods have faith in him, a part of him wanted to throw the two down the hill and watch them roll, another part of him know he was to much of a coward to do so.
So he continued, he continued walking up the hill holding this small mysterious random child, he could feel it's warm breath on his collarbone, he ignored it.
They made it to another section with a lip forcing them to jump slightly, they made it. On the other side it was covered in a small powder of muddy brown—snow, soon to change into pure white as he continued upwards.
It felt longer then expected to make it to the snow they still had ways to go but making it to the cold weather with wind that tugs at his long hair said they were making progress.
He turned back ever-so slightly this time not looking at Hester but instead behind him, the blue flames seeming to have spread already to the trees making the sky a shade of purple with black and gray smoke rising from the middle of the forest where it first started, the black fumes looking like a stain to the midnight sky, a bruise that had not yet healed.
He continued walking still holding Wilbur in one arm as he wraps the rope around his metal prosthetic in the other, keeping Odin close to him.
Everything was going surprisingly well.
Until it wasn't.
It wasn't anything big, it's just—Wilbur woke up, and began fussing around in his arm, whimpering pathetically in his ear. Which worried Alexander for multiple reasons, -was it cold? What did it want? Did it want Hester?- He couldn't tell in the slightest what anything this kid did meant.
"Stop moving." He hissed at the kid
It just flailed around in his arms trying to wiggle its way out. He continued to hold him tightly close to his neck as he walks making it to freshly plied snow on the ground, Wilbur still being a nuisance in his arms.
He just annoyed tells the kid to quit down.
Failing, the kid almost falls as he hears a small groan behind him he turns to see Hester still unconscious most likely from the pain he feels in his arm—he would definitely have to fix it soon or he'll have to cut it off completely.
He turns back and continues walking, struggling with Wilbur trying to be the most difficult child in the world and succeeding in it. He hears Hester make another wordless jumble of sounds, he ignores it, until he hears something akin to.
"Tem h-h a st'rm-my."
Hester mumbles tiredly
"You want me to, what?"
"Te'll hem a st'ry."
"..."
He couldn't tell in the slightest what anyone wanted and the small voice telling him to push them off and watch them roll was back.
"Tel'l. Him. A. St'ory."
Hester finally choked out.
Alexander knows lots of storys he just didn't think any were appropriate for someone this young.
"Which one?" He said tiredly to Hester, who just pointed to Odin. "Really?" He sighed and began to remember how the story went, he was never good with storys, or talking so this was entirely a new experience, sighing he began.
"One day, a very very long time ago, there was this guy named Odin, he uh, he was the king of some land called the kingdom of clouds, or maybe the kingdom of wind? I'm not sure."
Wilbur babbled happily something akin to a giggle and smiled up at him, he continued.
"And he—being a moron—decided to tell everyone that he was a God, yeah real smart move there I know, or like a God something that rivaled one at least like if he came face-to-face with a God he could beat them up. So a Goddess heared him I believe it was the Goddess of Death—however I could have just be making that up—anyway she took up the challenge, however instead of going herself, because—well y'know? God's have a lot to do, can't just drop everything and go fight some idiot."
He had no idea what he was doing, only ever reading these books, never doing oral storytelling before. However, the kid quietly behaved himself as he spoke seeing to enjoy it as he insults and mocks the characters.
"So the Goddess just throws the task on her two Angles, Tallulah and William, both being foolish enough say yes."
He heard Hester groan again, ignoring it he step on a rock peaking over it he saw a small home in the middle of the plateau, seeing a snow covered forest and a frozen lake beside it, his home.
For as much as he was glad to make it there he wished he could finish the story still he continued as they slowly walked to the house, it begining to snow ever so slightly as the wind blows.
"The two go and meet this king and challenge him. Disguising themselves as two drunk farmers they trick the dumb king into sparring with them, because Odin's a fool like I said before."
His horse seemed to take offense at that and stopped abruptly making him almost fall, he turns to the horse and stares daggers at him, he doesn't comment though. As the kid sees to find it funny.
"He fails and almost dies, however the brother William—did I say their related? It doesn't matter William and Tallulah are siblings, anyway the brother thinks they should spare the king they taught him a lesson, and says that if he backslides they're come back and kill him. But Tallulah—and I personally agree with her on this, cuts the man's arm clean off saying if he ever says he's more then what he's worth she'll take another arm then a leg until there's nothing left of him." He says calmly.
He was expecting the kid to whimper or outright burst into tears or something at this turn of events, but he stays quiet waiting to see what happens next as small snowflakes cover his brown hair.
"Uh, well the king unsurprisingly backslides—as soon as they leave, in fact. Telling everyone that he killed a God, and how just before he could, the God cut off his arm. The Angels return like they promised but when they made it there, they didn't disguise themselves showing up with wings armor, weapons and shields, ready to fight him but they got there, guess what? He fled! Like a coward, runs away from all his problems."
He walked up to his house.
It had three floors one basement, middle, and addict the bottom being made with cobblestone and the top and roof being made out of spruce and dark wood with stairs on the side leading to the side door the front being at the bottom with cobblestone surrounding it, having small rectangle shaped window and a small enclosure made of fences with a roof where he kept Odin.
He dropped the rope and opened the fence gate Odin obediently went in. He grabbed Hester and throw him over his shoulder as Wilbur apparently had falling asleep in his arms unaware of his surroundings.
He walks up the stone stairs and unlocks the side door warm air hits him as he entered moving to the small couch he had, he gently placed Hester on it making him lay down, his injured arm being placed on a small round table he had, then placed Wilbur on Hester's chest making sure both were comfortable, looking around as to what to do next.
His house was small each level having one or two purposes to them.
The first room they were all in had a small red couch with a small table usually used for books the other side of the room had a fireplace that fit into the corner of the room complete opposite to the door, on the other wall was another small wooden door that went out to a deck that overlooked the surrounding area.
Leaving the empty space being coved with two wooden rectangled shaped tables both having be littered with loose pieces of paper, books, plants, miscellaneous jars, and ink pots above the table where storage cabinets were, for when he got the time he would sort and clean everything. (He never did)
Next to the door was a wooden ladder leading up to the attic or down to the basement. Scaling the ladder he poked his head through the hole and went up to his bedroom, he had an old bed a cupboard that had some candles a lighter and a small dagger, also with a few stacks of books on and surrounding the cutboard he walked further in, his head occasionally bumping the short ceiling. On the other side of the room was an entire wall filled with leatherback books, all sorts of books on just about everything, potions, curses, legends, fauna, and folklore to name a few.
He weaved around the stacks of books he had left on the ground moving past them he trailed his hand reading the covers—the moon light from his small window was just barely enough for him to read them.
His hand landed on the book he needed, he pulled out a dusty purple coloured book that had the name "The complete guide to treating burn wounds" in small letters it had the words just barely visible "Only for natural or fauna burns not including curses or witchcraft." He hoped it would have the answers on at least how to soothe the pain or, if he was lucky perhaps heal the burn complete.
He put the book under his shoulder and descended the ladder going below to the basement. It was cold, having a big onion shaped oven, same ones used by apothecaries, at the end of the room the wall opposite to the front door was filled with cupboards making the cobblestone wall behind it unseen as the oak wooden drawers cover the whole side.
He tied his hair into a tight ponytail then starts fliping through pages as he grabs some wood and kindling and throws it in the oven lighting it. He puts his hand to his eyes to shield them from the new light but continued unfazed. Next to the door was a desk having lots of bottles and jars.
He wasn't a witch or a miracle maker, he just did it to kill time by learning something, he knows how to make potions, elixirs, creams, ointments and so on but it was just in case something interesting happend.
He knows how to make basic healing, and harming potions putting the list of ingredients on the wall as a guide to make them, however making a healing potion this strong would take an effort. A lot of effort.
«»«»«»«»«»
Why are you even helping?
What will you even gain from this? They have nothing!
You'll probably just hurt them even more just let it run it's course.
You should just leave them to die.
You should have thrown them off the cliff, it would have been more entertaining.
«»«»«»«»«»
"Stop it." He mumbles under his breath. He needs to focus he had no idea of what he was doing he couldn't get side tracked. Especially getting lost in his own head.
He found the page he was looking for it was a burn ointment used to stop them from getting worse and smoothed the pain.
Tiredly he collected the proper ingredients then, cut, mixed, boiled, and freezed the ointment making a steady elixir that had the look and texture of basic oil.
However reading the recipe it should look like regular olive oil. Satisfied Alexander poured it into a wooden bowl then climbed up to where Wilbur and Hester both were.
He grabbed a small piece of fabric and dipped it into the elixir then wrapped it tightly around Hester's injured arm, his breathing immediately became normal again and his shoulders loosen up he moved his arm subcutaneous and wrapped it around Wilbur then moved on his side with his wings covering the two of them.
Alexander couldn't keep the smile off his face.
However even after, Hester still seemed to be tensed like he was trying to protect Wilbur against something, wraping his arms and legs close to his chest then his wings over them—almost like he was hiding from something.
Alexander loath to think of what could make someone live like that, always on guard always keeping watch, thinking of the worst possible scenario, never fully relaxing.
«»«»«»«»«»
But you do the same thing!
You always think something bad will happen!
What a hypocrite.
Still think you should throw them off a cliff.
«»«»«»«»«»
They snapped at him, Alexander rolled his eyes. "I relax sometimes, why do you think I live in the middle of nowhere?" He snapped back quietly as to not wake Wilbur or Hester, he didn't even realize how tired he was until everything was over.
«»«»«»«»«»
You should have just left them, you're wasting items!
What will you even do with them?
Do you have to feed them?
«»«»«»«»«»
"I don't know, alright? Just let me think." He said under his breath. He had done everything he could have, he would have to see until morning if he messed up the elixir meaning if Hester had died in the morning—which wasn't exactly the worst scenario.
«»«»«»«»«»
Are you going to kill them?
«»«»«»«»«»
"No." He said leaving little room for an argument, as he climbed the ladder leading up to his bedroom. He just wanted to rest even if it meant possible being stab in his sleep—from Hester or the kid he would bet money it was a tie as to who would get to him first.
«»«»«»«»«»
Why?
«»«»«»«»«»
One asked quietly, Alexander kicked off his boots and untied his hair letting it massly falls on his shoulders then sat on his bed sighing holding his head in his hands. Then thought of the thing he had been fighting with for almost a week now, trying to find out why, never really getting an answer he was satisfied with.
"I do not know."
He said truthfully.
The questions that pelted him turned to an uproar of laughter, yells and screams swirling into a deafening loud chaos happing around him as he just sat there unable to stop as his ears ring with the noise, covering his ears knowing that it wouldn't work—just making him look like a child, that was covering his ears on his bed as his hair falls hiding his face like curtains, hiding as they screech the same question over and over again wanting a better answer.
It was so loud.
And so pointless.
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Art made by youreyeslookliketheocean chiyahowo
All writing was originally done on Novelist
The noises Alexander hears is in no way correlated to schizophrenia, this is fantasy and nothing to do with reality in any way, if it does sound like something real, uh my bad ¯_(ツ)_/¯ sorry to make that sound really superficial but if anyone is thinking this is what schizophrenia really is like, I have no clue, if anyone wants that information they should research and go to reliable sources. I. am. not. a. reliable. source.
© All Rights Reserved
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
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