Demon Stories

Josephine: The Sleeping Beauty, 1808, England

Josephine

The Sleeping Beauty

1808, England

"Come with me to church, Andrew." I swept back his light brown bangs from his face as he tried to get just one more wink of sleep this plain but bright Saturday.

"No mass on Saturdays, Joseph," he replied in half snore.

His fourteen year old body was so full of sleep it seemed heavier than an elephant. No matter how much I pushed at his sides, shoved him, I could not even roll him over.

"Come on, Professor Delane is not even in session with you today. He had to go to London. Come with me to church!"

He grumbled and turned over on his side himself. Relief flushed over me, a smile could not help but escape. He patted my small eight year old head, his hand still too heavy. It decided to lay there on my hair, the short red curls overflowing his fingers.

"Why are you awake," he said, a half question, more of a statement. He was fully awake now.

"Church!" I insisted again, all seriousness.

"Why do you want to go to church so much. You go every Saturday and Sunday and Wednesday even though it makes Professor Delane mad." He was not cross with me, just merely in a wonder. He sat on the edge of the bed now, and he stretched like a new lamb in the light of day.

"I light a candle for the Virgin Mary, and for the baby Jesus," I said, still in my strict seriousness.

"Why do you do that? Why not just visit them on Sunday like the rest of us?" he asked, looking at me now. He began to yawn.

"My prayers," I said, covering my mouth, trying not to catch his yawn when speaking of things so precious.

He looked more curious. Furthering in his morning stretching, he stood up and rose his arms to the heavens. I followed suit, and stretched my arms to the heavens, too. We stretched together and I looked up at him. How tall he was compared to me still. But I was catching up.

"Do you want an apple or slice of ham before we go?" he asked casually. But I caught this subtle word. We. My face lit up like a candle itself.

"Both!" I exclaimed, bouncing in my delight. 

"Alright, alright," he laughed, a rich and hearty laugh even though he was still so young himself. I stopped bouncing. My ears examined this laugh. This manly laugh, though he was so young. 

Full of ham and halves of fresh green apples, we were on our way finally. As we walked together, I observed the passersby and goings on with renewed interest. Walking alongside Andrew, my best friend and strong adoptive brother, I felt so small. Somehow, it felt different to walk with him here, along these same streets. The experience was entirely foreign, yet all the same. He was an added piece to the puzzle, yet I felt as if I were a piece out of place.