Gaea

• Teddy Le Gro, Grade 8, St Josephs School
• Short Story
• 2001

3rd in the '2001/2002 Schools Short Story Competition - Magic and Mystery Theme' competition

The velvet of the midnight sky hung heavily over the gleaming of the moon. Buried beneath twisted sheets and a seemingly suffocating quilt was Simon Moore. Six feet three inches of tangled limbs, the restless young man had been without sleep since he climbed into bed. Neon green blinked mockingly from the clock into the tanned face: four a.m. Raking a hand through the disheveled sun-streaked mop of hair, he set both feet on the floor and hoisted himself up. He yawned, and loped toward his closet.
One two-hour shower later Simon made his way out of the apartment and onto the streets of Chicago. Hands were shoved into his pockets, blonde head tilted downward, thin frame slouched as he strode down the sidewalk. Thick lashed hazels fixed above, he squinted toward the roof of a building up ahead. Is there someone up there? He wondered, prominent features creasing in disbelief. Against his better judgement, he jogged toward the building and clambered up the ladder to the roof.
Upon hearing the noise, the figure turned. Full lips parted to blow a tawny strand of hair off her face and sent it off to join the windswept mane. Stonewashed blue eyes blinked once, twice in his direction. The girl was slightly put off; he was staring at her blankly. Draped in a floor-length coat of tan suede, “Gaea” embroidered over the left collar, head tilted, she was the strangest creature he had ever come across. He flicked his gold flecked gaze to the glowing silver ball that hovered in her cupped palms. She blinked once more, offered a half smile.
“Hi” she greeted him.
Simon blinked, returning his eyes to her face. “Hi. Um… what’s that thing?”
“This?” she gestured with the ball. He nodded.
“It’s my orb.”
“What’s it do?” He asked.
She grinned. Tossed her head like a colt.
“It makes you whole. Catch.” The ball dropped into her hands solidly. She tossed it toward him, and he caught it, for fear of breaking it.
Gaea tilted her head, crossed her arms.
“Where do you want to be right now?” She inquired, azure eyes luminous. Simon opened his mouth, closed it. Then he shrugged.
“The desert.”
She eyed him, with a canted head, then nodded. She turned, shrugged off her coat, and so Simon gaped. A pair of wings, pristine and radiant, unfolded from behind her shoulder blades. “Close your eyes.” He obeyed, and felt a jolt in his stomach, then warmth on his back. His eyes opened to a deserted highway. The scenery stretched before him. The heavy blanket of sunset, and the warmth that was almost visible in the sky. He breathed, smiled and he was whole.
Gaea leaned on the windowsill of Simon’s bedroom, smiled lightly as she watched him sleep. The orb was back in her pocket. She pushed off the sill, stepped toward him, put a hand to his face. Simon slept, heart in the desert and mind in Chicago. And he was whole.