prince ♛ cole mackenzie

06 | da vinci and dracula

Silas hung his coat on one of the protruding branches in the little log house. Cole sat with his sketchbook in his lap, creating a lush forest with a wooden stick of charcoal.

"You come here a lot?" he asked the quiet boy.

"When I'm not on the farm or in school."

"Don't you get bored?"

"Not really. It's better than having to spend time with people like Billy Andrews after school. I like it here. And I can draw all night on Fridays and Saturdays." Cole's face brightened at the thought.

Silas sat beside him and watched his hand dance across the page, like a fish in a stream.

"You're really good at that, you know," Silas murmured after a while.

Cole blushed for a second. "They're just sketches."

"Da Vinci started on sketchbooks."

"But I'm Cole Mackenzie, a farm-boy from Avonlea."

"So? That doesn't matter."

"So, I'm not Leonardo Da Vinci."

Silas chuckled softly and leaned back against his shoulder. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Yellow."

"Blue. Favourite sport?"

"I don't like sports."

"Me neither. Favourite book?"

"Don't have one. Yours?"

"Dracula."

"Dracula?"

"The vampire, Cole."

"Don't know it."

"Great book, Cole."

"Boring game, Silas. Are we interviewing each other?"

"Something like that."

"What position am I applying for?"

"Best friend."

"I thought I already had that job. There's not much competition."

Silas gently punched his arm as they laughed. The afternoon was spent with Cole drawing an unaware Silas, releasing all the laughter that lived inside of them.

Eventually, the white canvas above darkened indigo and the moon crept from behind the clouds.

"I'd better go home now. They probably haven't fed the cat," Cole told him as he stowed his book in his satchel.

"You have a cat? I've always wanted a pet."

Cole held his hand up to display a thin scar on his ring finger. "It's only for the mice. I'd give you it if I could, all it does is hiss and scratch."

"Still," Silas laughed.

The said goodbye and departed, leaving Silas to walk home alone.

* * * * *

"How's she feeling?" Silas asked his mother as soon as he stepped through the door.

His mother looked awful. Her dark curls were messily pulled back with her dark green ribbon and her apron was dirty. Her eyes looked frantic, filled with distress.

"She's . . . not better. She took lunch, though. And she hasn't been sick since yesterday."

"Where's dad?"

"He's with Daisy. You should go to sleep, it's late."

He nodded and made his way to his bedroom, a small and mostly bare space with a bed and chest of drawers. A mirror stood against the back wall beside the window. The happiness he had felt in the time with Cole had all but melted away at his arrival.