Even though Kristoph was far too young and barely even knew of the misfortunes and agonies in life, he was very sure that being alone – with no one at your side - for a long, long time had to be one of the most miserable things that a person could ever go through.

Bright, wide blue eyes swept the dim, empty corridor, examining it with care. A tall, dark-brown oak door that led to the Master's bedroom stood to his left. A narrow door camouflaged by elegantly patterned wallpaper that led to the bathroom was located directly in front of him. A short, heavy, old door that led to his aunt's adjoining house was positioned to his right.

Absolutely no one in sight.

The seven-year old blond sighed deeply, his small hand clutching on to the rails of the varnished wooden staircase in resignation.

He was alone yet again.

He raised his little head up and stared aimlessly into space, his sky-blue eyes distant.

It was always like this during the afternoons, when his Mutter and Vater were out working in their offices.

They would always kiss him goodbye and tell him how much they loved him and to be a good boy while they were gone. They would then walk out of the door and drive off to their respective offices. He would always wave back at them from underneath the doorframe and tell them in return how much he loved them as well and to work hard.

Right when he was sure that they had left, he would sprint up the tall flight of stairs as he would shout, "The cost is clear! Mutter and Vater are gone! We can play as much as we want now!" and would hope to be greeted by a smaller child with even larger eyes and smaller hands that would be waiting at the top of the staircase. That smaller child would then coo "Bruder! Bruder!" and would fling itself into his arms for a big hug.

But every time he got to the top, he would only be greeted by the haunting, dreary stillness of the dark, empty corridor.



Young Kristoph Gavin had always wondered what it was like to have a sibling.

Being an only child, he had never known what it was like to live everyday with someone who wasn't fully-grown and employed. He had never known what it was like to live with someone who still had a child's urge to play and explore the world .

Some of his classmates, who did have siblings, called him 'lucky'.

He didn't have to share his mountain of toys in his spacious room with anyone. He didn't have to share his parents' care and attention with anyone either. He never had to talk the blame for someone else's mistake. He didn't have to wait for his turn to use the television or the bathroom at home because his parents always let him go first.

He always decided where to eat when his parents would take him out. He usually got the toys and books he wanted when he asked for them. He would get the most praises whenever he would get high grades and receive awards from school (which happened often, for he was a truly intelligent child).

Most of all, he never had to worry about which child in the family was most loved. He would always be sure that he was his parents' favorite child.

Little siblings would talk about their older siblings and how they would boss the little ones around. Older siblings would rant and complain about their younger siblings and all the trouble that they give their older ones.

He would just smile good-naturedly at them, thank them for saying so, and proceed to give sympathy to the storyteller.

However, on the inside, he felt pangs of jealousy and longing whenever he heard stories about his friends' siblings. He secretly wished that he could have someone that would bug him too.

The blond was well-aware that there was a chance that he wouldn't be able to enjoy all the things he had as an only child, but he would risk that just to have a child like him by his side when the grown-ups were out doing their grown-up things.

So what if someone would mess up his toys and books from time to time? So what if someone made loud noises at night and made it hard for him to sleep? So what if he couldn't decide where to go out for dinner for a change? At least he would be sure that a child like him would always be there.

Losing a few pleasures and putting up with a few things had to be better than being alone for the rest of his life.



'Maybe, if I pray hard and long enough and say ' please' enough, Gott will answer mein prayers one day,' Kristoph thought hopefully.

He clapped his hands together softly and started muttering in soft German:

"Lieber Gott, ich bete darum, dass du mir vielleicht ein jüngeres Geschwisterchen geben könntest. Mir ist egal ob es ein Mädchen oder Junge sein wird. Bitte, gib mir nur eins, bitte. Ich möchte wirklich, wirklich, wirklich nur eine jüngere Schwester....oder Bruder haben....bitte."

("Lord God, I pray that You may give me a younger sibling, please. I don't mind whether it's a girl or a boy. Please just give me on, please. I really, really, really want a younger sister…or brother…please.")

That was what he did right whenever he would wake up in the morning.

That was what he did whenever he would be driven to school by his Vater in the family's shiny, silver car.

That was what he did whenever class was about to begin.

That was what he did whenever he was lying in between Mutter and Vater in their soft, king-sized bed and was about to fall into a deep slumber underneath the thick, elegantly-patterned blanket.

That was what he did whenever he had taken Holy Communion and was kneeling down on a pew's pedestal on Sundays.

That was what he did whenever his friends and family would tell him to blow out the candles on his birthday cake and make a wish during his birthday parties.

That was what he did whenever he would write his letter to Santa during Christmas Eve.

That was what he did for such a long that even he couldn't remember when he started. When he was five? four? even three years old perhaps?

…But that wasn't what he did whenever he would reach the top of the staircase and meet the solitude of the hallway yet again.

During those times, he would close his eyes and grip his hands together tightly at his chest as he bowed his head and murmured the prayer even more fervently. Sometimes, tears would trickle down from his flooded eyes and stain his cheek.

Seven-year old Kristoph Gavin had always asked for a younger sibling persistently, but those times when he would stand alone at the top of the staircase were surely the times when he prayed the hardest.

uncorrupted

Lieber Gott, ich bete darum, dass du mir vielleicht ein jüngeres Geschwisterchen geben könntest. Mir ist egal ob es ein Mädchen oder Junge sein wird. Bitte, gib mir nur eins, bitte. Ich möchte wirklich, wirklich, wirklich nur eine jüngere Schwester....oder Bruder haben....bitte.