Béla

Let me tell you about a little boy called Béla. He was as beautiful and fragile as a frozen tear, with hair fair as a newly formed cloud reaching down to his waist and his clothing which was a gown was white as snow -except for a red scarf which he wore over his shoulders. His deep brown eyes were shaded by long black lashes which stuck together when he cried, which sadly to say he often did. His little red lips didn’t pout and he didn’t wail and scream like ill mannered and vile children do, but wept almost silently, his small sobs would not have woken the baby Jesus had he been there in the stable on that night. Now you may be wondering the cause for this dear child's sadness, was he ill treated by an evil father? Was he neglected by an uncaring father? Or was he not allowed time to play with other children? Well it was none and all of these for he had neither father or mother and although he had more time then you or I he had never so much as spoke to another child. How can this be you wonder? Well I shall tell you this also, but mind you follow what I say closely so as not to get confused for it wouldn’t do to be confused.
Béla lived in a beautiful green field (of which I shall tell you later) was surrounded by a deep dark forest and around the forest stone cliffs, and around the cliffs black circle and still around that a swirling sphere of dreary clouds -the very same swirling blackness that one sees in nightmares. 
Now this may sound like a nightmare itself which in many ways it was, but now I shall tell you about the field. 
It was not always dark as one would think, for although it was entombed in a dark sphere of swirling blackness Béla could sometimes see a blue sky from inside, also it was lit by a huge candle stand that never run out which is always handy in situations as such and was constant source of comfort to the young boy.
The size of the field was sometimes very large and would have take one a day at least to cross other times it was quite small as a small bedroom large enough to fit only a small bed in, but Béla didn’t have a bed; he slept in a small grassy hollow which was quite cosy.
There was a hill in the middle of the field and at the top surrounded by a number of large upturned stones was a enormous tree (and if you’re wondering how it could fit when the field was as small as a bedroom I cant tell for I know not) which was always flowering and covered in fruit and Béla would climb the tree and sit upon its branches and think for hours on end for the tree seemed to be full of wisdom and you could feel it seeping into you; Béla had named it the wise tree.
Now the child was not alone for there was flock of young lambs that numbered twelve in all and were his dearest friend and he theirs. They would play together for hours on end, romping around the field or through the edges of the forest or playing hide and go seek among the large stones that stood around the wise tree.
But Béla was not always happy and often he would not sit in the wise tree and think or play with his friends but curl up in the grassy hollow and cry till he fell asleep.