Orphan ask starter || @nerothecompanionator
What had started off as an exciting trip to America ended in the most inexplicable tragedy. A car had gone off route 69, breaching the crash barrier and smashing into the hard, jagged rock face head on. Both parents killed instantly, along with a girl of eight, leaving behind a young boy, just ten years old. The Charming Chronicle had been all over the atrocity like a moth to a flame.
Little Alan McMichael sat in the church in St Thomas hospital. A very dedicated and supportive nurse had brought him in and then left shortly after just as Alan began to pray to whatever god was above, asking no begging for answers.
Why had he taken away his parents and baby sister? Why now? Why leave just him?
Rounds of distraught tears dried on his little face like paint, leaving tearstained marks against his pale cheeks. He gazed up to the alter, praying that he could just see his parents one last time.
With a quiet whimper he clutched a drip stand by the pue and brought himself slowly up to a standing position. Weakly he made his way to the array of candles and fumbled in his pocket for some change the nurse had given him before putting the money in the little box and taking 3 dispensed tea-lights to set aflame. Shaky little hands placed the candles into their holders, choosing to put them in the centre so that they would be easily seen. Silently, Alan talked to the candles, watching their flames begin to grow and sway in the light, eerie chapel breeze.
Time seemed to stop as he continued to watch the candles getting stronger and stronger. After what seemed like hours, Alan just about managed to tear himself away and start to walk back down the isle.
His head of mousy brown hair looked up as he saw a woman sitting in the spot he had occupied. He had been too lost in his overwhelming grief to notice her entrance while he lit the candles.
“H-Hello.” He sniffed quietly, barely taking any notice of her as he continued to walk down towards the door, unaware that he would soon see her again.
Alan clung to Chibs’ Telford’s shoulder as he he carried him towards the office on the TM garage forecourt. He felt so childish, but Chibs and the nurse had been his only friends since the accident, and so naturally he agreed to go with Chibs, blissfully unaware of the life that he was entering, comforted by his familiar accent in such a sea of loneliness and uncertainty.
In the distance Alan could just make out a boy a bit older than him playing on a ‘rough and tumble’ looking playground also on the garage lot. Faintly Alan hoped that he might get to play with the other boy, but right now he was too preoccupied by where the Scot was taking him.
“Gem! C’mere! Ah go’ha visitor for ye..” Chibs announced as he pounded his fist against the whitewashed steel office door. Alan shied away and nuzzled his head against Chibs’ neck while quickly sticking his fingers firmly into his ears, scared of the noise Chibs made as it reminded him of the crash.
