The Careless Angel

A Lonely Terror

“Ciaran Andrew O’Fallon!” came the furious cry from the floor below. An eight-year-old boy ran from the top of the stairs down the hall and into his room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. He giggled as he heard footsteps pounding up the staircase and toward his room. Tormenting Maggie was one of Ciaran’s favorite pastimes. The shouting was much closer now, and accompanied by thunderous banging on his door.

“You horrid boy, your father will have your head when he gets home!”

Not likely. Ciaran knew from experience that he would get punished only if he had done something truly wretched, like when he had taken his knife and cut all the dresses in Maggie’s wardrobe to ribbons. That had gotten him a good beating, and lost him his knife. Even then, if the wardrobe hadn’t cost his father so much money to replace, he could have gotten off easier than that. He didn’t usually get punished by his father. He usually got ignored. His father didn’t bother enough to punish him. His father didn’t care. Ciaran quickly dropped that train of thought.
He couldn’t imagine what Maggie was so worked up about. It had just been a harmless switch between the salt and the sugar. Oh, and the tacks he had put through the bottom of her chair. She hadn’t even noticed until her break in the afternoon when she sat down to drink her tea.

The banging on the door finally began to subside. It was time to get himself out of trouble.

“Maggie, I’m opening the door. Please don’t hurt me.” The banging stopped.
“We’ll see about that. You’re father’s going to punish you either way. Open up!”

Ciaran quickly wiped all traces of mischief and naughtiness from his face, then opened the door. The gentle, grey-eyed cherub who looked up at the servant girl so innocently could not be the same boy who made her life miserable. That fair complexion and dome of tumbling, jet black hair couldn’t house a mind bent on malicious mischief. Maggie was almost moved to pity. Almost. She grabbed him by the ear and pulled him back toward the stairs.

“Ow! Maggie, I said please!” the boy whined.

“Maybe you’ll think about that next time before you make trouble.”

He wouldn’t. Ciaran was an impulsive creature without restraint. If he wanted to do something, he did it, without second thoughts. Occasionally he suffered consequences, but he knew he was a cute boy, and he excelled at playing that to his advantage. Even Maggie wasn’t completely immune to his charm. This time, however, his mother saved him from Maggie’s wrath.

“Ciaran, dear, come here and leave Maggie alone!” Ciaran wasted no time speeding obligingly toward his mother’s room and safety. Today was his lucky day. It turned out that his mother only wanted to promise him a surprise later that week.

Honestly speaking, Ciaran’s unruly behavior caused his mother no end of consternation and grief, though she still loved him dearly despite it all. His father, on the other hand, showed neither frustration at his behavior, nor much affection for the boy. Ciaran looked up to his father a great deal, as most boys do, and hung on his every word. But words were few between them.

Author's Note: This short story is my very first attempt at anything with a hint of romance. It's also a bit of background for my other story, The Schoolboy, you may recognize some of the characters. Lastly, just so you know ahead of time, this ends up slightly romantic between two young boys. If you're not interested, you've been warned.