Friday, January 23, 2015

Rescued Gray

Miss Cordelia. Isn't it a beautiful name? I have never been so glad to hear such a name. She has been my salvation.

I was dying on the streets. Starving, yes, but also dying in spirit. There was nothing in my life. And then there was her. Red against the white snow, against the bleary monotones of my life.

But I couldn't see her red as the sticky red of blood, or even as the red of fire that only consumed. Her's was the red of sunsets, the red of strawberries and valentines. The cold itself could not touch her.

Her touch was as warm as her smile when she found me on the street and told me she had come to save me when she read my despair through my blog. She cared more from thousands of miles away than anyone walking these frozen streets had.

She came right out and told me what she was. A proxy. She didn't try to hide it or lie to me. A proxy, of course I was scared. I have read enough stories to know to be scared, but Miss
Cordelia wasn't like that at all. She is just as saddened by the hating and killing in this world as I am. She had been sent to me by Him, but not to kill me, to save me.

I wasn't going crazy when it seemed that He saved me from Jessica's knife. He DID save me! And now He has sent Miss Cordelia to save me again. She told me...I still don't know if I believe it though it is far from me to doubt her, but it is so strange to think. She told me that I am a crafter. That it was given to me because I have "potential".

I am just a stupid useless kid. I am sure she will be disappointed if she thinks that I have any kind of power. But I don't want to disappoint her. She has been so kind, so very very kind, I wish that I could repay everything she's done for me.

But all she wants from me is to come with her so that she can keep giving. Protecting me, feeding me, giving me a bed to sleep in with a roof over my head. Teaching me about things I supposedly can do. It seems almost too good to be true.

Salvation like this doesn't just happen to me. Things never just work out. People as wonderful as Miss Cordelia don't bother with pathetic messes like me. But I can't help believing in it. I might as well enjoy it before it is inevitable ripped away from me like everything else.

I almost feel hopeful. Maybe goodness does exist in this world.

So even though I am leaving my home state of Maine for the first time ever for a city in a desert, I truly feel like I am going home. Maybe to a family.

I'll see you on the other side.



  1. Oh. So the subject made the loop to save himself.

    1. Would you please, please stop calling me that?

      It's really hard to go to sleep after reading something like that.