ooc: text

[27_53]

I found him in the garage on a Sunday afternoon. It was the day after we moved into Falconer Road. The winter was ending. Mum had said we'd be moving just in time for the spring. Nobody else was there. Just me. The others were inside the house with Dr. Death, worrying about the baby.

He was lying there in the darkness behind the tea chests, in the dust and dirt. It was as if he'd been there forever. He was filthy and pale and dried out and I thought he was dead. I couldn't have been more wrong. I'd soon begin to see the truth about him, that there'd never been another creature like him in the world.

Chapter 01
***

"You again," he said, in his cracked, squeaky voice.

"What are you doing there?" I whispered.

He sighed, like he was sick to death of everything.

"Nothing," he squeaked. "Nothing, nothing, and nothing."

[...]

His face was pale as dry plaster. His black suit hung like a sack on his thin bones.

Chapter Seven
***

I put the tray down on the floor beside him and shined the light on him. There were hundreds of tiny creases and cracks all over his pale face. A few fine colorless hairs grew on his chin. The red sauce below his lips was like congealed blood. When he opened his eyes again, I saw the tiny red veins like a dark net across the whites of his eyes. There was a smell of dust, old clothes, dry sweat.

Chapter 10
***

His joints creaked as he struggled to rise from the floor. He whimpered in pain. He leaned against us. He tottered and wobbled as he rose. He was taller than us, tall as Dad. We felt how thin he was, how extraordinarily light he was. We had our arms around him. Our fingers touched behind his back. We explored the growths on his shoulder blades. We felt them folded up like arms. We felt their soft coverings. We stared into each other's eyes and didn't dare to tell each other what we thought we felt.

"Extraordinary, extraordinary being," whispered Mina.

[...]

At the door he closed his eyes, turned his head away from the intensifying light. Then he turned again and faced the daylight. Through narrowed veiny eyes he looked out through the door. Mina and I gazed at his face, so pale and plaster dry. His skin was cracked and crazed. His black hair was a tangle of knots. Dust, cobwebs, bluebottles, spiders, beetles clung to him and fell from him. We saw for the first time that he wasn't old. He seemed like a young man. Mina whispered it:

"You're beautiful!"

Chapter 22
***

He shook his head. He turned over, onto all fours, started to crawl the short distance toward the blankets. We saw his tears dropping through the beams of light, splashing into the floor. He knelt by the blankets, panting. Mina went to him, knelt facing him.

"I'll make you more comfortable," she whispered.

She unfastened the buttons on his jacket. She began to pull his jacket down over his shoulders.

"No," he squeaked.

"Trust me," she whispered.

He didn't move. She slid the sleeves down over his arms, took the jacket right off him. We saw what both of us had dreamed we might see. Beneath his jacket were wings that grew out through rips in his shirt. When they were released, the wings began to unfurl from his shoulder blades. They were twisted and uneven, they were covered in cracked and crooked feathers. They clicked and they trembled as they opened. They were wider than his shoulders, higher than his head. Skellig hung his head towards the floor. His tears continued to fall. He whimpered with pain.

[...]

He lay facedown and his wings continued to quiver into shape above him. We drew the blankets up beneath them, felt his feathers against the skin on the backs of our hands. Soon Skellig's breathing settled and he slept. Whisper rested against him, purring.

We stared at each other. My hand trembled as I reached out toward Skellig's wings. I touched them with my fingertips. I rested my palms on them. I felt the feathers, and beneath them the bones and sinews and muscles that supported them. I felt the crackle of Skellig's breathing

Chapter 24
***

"What does it mean," I said. "if Skellig eats living things and makes pellets like the owls?"

She shrugged. "We can't know," she said.

"What is he?" I said.

"We can't know. Sometimes we just have to accept there are things we can't know. Why is your sister ill? Why did my father die?" She held my hand. "Sometimes we think we should be able to know everything. But we can't. We have to allow ourselves to see what there is to see, and we have to imagine."

Chapter 36
***

"Well," she said. "I was lying here last night, tossing and turning. Kept getting up to look at her. Kept dropping off to sleep. And the strangest of dreams..."

"And...?" said Dad.

"And I saw this man, that's all. Another dream, though I was sure I was wide awake. He was standing over the baby. He was filthy. All in black, an ancient dusty suit. A great hunch on his back. Hair all matted and tangled. I was terrified. I wanted to reach out to him. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to scream, Get away from out baby! I wanted to shout for the nurses and doctors. But I wouldn't move, couldn't speak, and I was sure he was going to take her away. But then he turned and looked at me. His face as white and dry as chalk. And there was such a tenderness in his eyes. And for some reason I knew he hadn't come to harm her. I knew it would be all right..."

She stopped again and shook her head.

"And...?" said Dad.

"And then he reached right down with both hands and lifted her up. She was wide awake. They stared and stared into each other's eyes. He started slowly to turn around..."

"Like they were dancing," I said.

Chapter 41
***

And then there was a sudden rustling in the air outside, the stars were blocked out, the window creaked and there he was, climbing in through the arched frame. He didn't see us. He crouched on the floor, gasping for breath. His wings slowly settled on his back.

"Skellig," I hissed.

He turned his moon-pale face towards us. "Michael. Mina," he said. His voice was shallow, thin, strained, but a smile was forming on his face.

[...]

We watched him eat and drink, saw him gathering his strength.

"You went to my sister," I said.

He laughed. "Hm! Pretty little thing."

"You made her strong."

"That one's glittering with life. Heart like fire. It was her that gave the strength to me."

[...]

We sat in a tiny circle, the three of us and for minutes we just watched each other and smiled.

"You're going away," I said at last.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Where will you go?" I said.

He shrugged, pointed out to the sky. "Somewhere," he said.

I touched his dry, cold hand. "What are you?" I whispered.

He shrugged again. "Something," he said. "Something like you, something like a beast, something like a bird, something like an angel." He laughed. "Something like that." He smiled. "Let's stand up," he said.

We made our circle and we held each other tight. We looked deep into each other's eyes. We began to turn. Our hearts and breath were together. We turned and turned until the ghostly wings rose from Mina's back and mine, until we felt ourselves being raised, until we seemed to turn and dance in the empty air.

And then it ended, and we came to earth again.

"We'll remember forever," said Mina.

Skellig leaned forward and hugged us both.

He licked a drop of red sauce from his lips.

"Thank you for 27 and 53," he said. "Thank you for giving me my life again. Now you have to go home."

We watched him as we walked toward the door and as we pulled it open. We peered through as we slowly pulled it closed. He gazed back at us with his tender eyes. Then we went silently down through the house and we stepped out with Whisper into the astounding night.

Chapter 42
***

We stood at the center, remembering Skellig.

"Someone else might find him, now," said Mina.

"Yes," I said. "I hope they do."

Then we saw the outline of a heart scratched into the floorboards beneath the arched window. Just outside the heart was scratched, Thank you. S., and inside were three small white feathers.

We picked up the feathers and smiled.

"Three," said Mina.

"One for the baby as well," I said.

Chapter 44