Jack and Sarah 1

Tadpoles ate insect corpses, lions gobbled up gazelles, and the praying mantis devoured its own lover. Still, according to Jack, there's nothing like dinnertime at the orphanage called Heart.

The children made up for the lack of food by tarnishing each other's reputation, looking for tears. They sipped them like a salty sherbet.

Jack could swear they're energetic vampires even though their reflection still showed in the mirror.

Jack Blackwell was his full name, but everyone called him Blackheart. At six he had his first spontaneous experiment, managing to cause Luna the cat’s mice skeletons to move.

Of course he built up an army and sought justice from an older boy named David who had stolen his apple and pushed him around.

He only wanted to scare him off, but the incident sparked an increasingly hilarious web of gossip. Such as that his real name was the evil midget and he came to devour their flesh and use their skeletons for his army. Or that he's actually sent by Saint Thursday to punish naughty children by turning them into mice. All kinds of nonsense…

As he considered the other orphans insipid and possibly treacherous he had no friends. Except for a little girl named Sarah. She had golden hair and crystal-blue eyes. She played with a stuffed, filthy little rabbit named Voice. Whenever she wanted to communicate with Jack, the bunny would slowly open its mouth and sounds and words would come out. And no, she wasn't a ventriloquist. The veritable wound on her neck that stopped her speech was red, long and crooked. It nearly killed her.

“Jack,” said the Voice, “Are you hungry?”

“No, you eat. You must save your strength.”

Sarah's sulking.

“I have candy.”

“Congratulations, “ said Jack, rolling his eyes.

“I stole them from the bully David who stole them from Anna who stole them from Danah.”

“Did one of the nuns see you?”

“No.”

“Good. Keep it up.”

Jack usually considered stealing to be a disgusting survival option. But he made exceptions when it came to David, lots of exceptions.

Near the orphanage was a forest. Sarah and Jack thought of it as their second home. There they built traps, hunted squirrels and hid from their bullies.

Today, like any other days, they ventured into the woods beyond Torment Hill. It was so named by a nun because of the chore it was to carry a milk jug up the entire hill. The children said it was cursed and that's why the jug kept tipping over. Jack didn't believe in curses, just human stupidity.

“The hill of torment, the hill of torment, sang Voce. The harlequin walked on it to pick blackberries and strawberries. But my, how many trees and how many traps!”

“Sarah, aren't you tired of that made-up song?” Jack asked her, massaging his temples.

Sarah moved her head from left to right.

“Nope!”

Sarah enjoyed silly things in Jack’s opinion. Things like hide and seek and clowns and made up stories.

“Jack, I made up another story,” Voice said.

Right on cue, Jack thought.

Knowing better than to delay the inevitable, he said, ”Well, let’s hear it.”

Voice opened her mouth and began storytelling on the spot, “In our forest, like in any other forest, there lived a witch who did not like pumpkins at Halloween.”

“How surprising,” commented Jack.

“Yes, the pumpkin mania was a myth. She much liked children instead, not as an appetizer, but as free labor.”

“She’d get on well with the orphanage adults,” said Jack.

“That’s because the witch’s name was Stormfell, and she was our headmistress’s great, great, great, great grandmother.”

The children looked at each other, and smiled. Bubbly laughter resonated all around, seeming to shake the, red, crunchy leaves around them.

There was a hedgehog near them. It was tiny and most likely prickly. Sarah approached gently and introduced herself via Voice.

“My name is Sarah. My older brother, Jack, loves hedgehogs.”

“Don’t lie to it,” Jack said, even as his heart swelled with love at the word brother.

They were in the heart of the forest, staring at the tiny creature, without a care in the world. The ochre sun warmed them up a bit but it was a gentle breeze outside. It sufficed in cooling them up.

Suddenly the atmosphere turned even cooler. They sought warmth by rubbing their arms with their hands, they huddled together and locked gazes. Jack’s small, sun-kissed face stared at Sarah’s porcelain-like complexion. He tried to smile reassuringly although he had a bad feeling.

Last time he felt like that someone tried to adopt him.

“It will be alright. Do not worry, Sarah,” He told her, “It’s likely just the weather turning against us.”

Later, they ran back to the orphanage as fast as their legs could carry them. They were soaked from head to toe because it rained yet they were smiling, clutching each other’s hands and singing songs. Actually Sarah was singing them, thanks to Voice and she roped Jack in to mutter along, occasionally.