The Forbidden Peak

James awoke, startled by the downfall of an acorn which had decided to fall straight into his open mouth. 

He hurriedly spat it out. 

James had faced worse for morning wake-ups, like the time his Aunt had poured a bucketful of water over him, or when his mother had thought he was dead and had gone poking and prodding him to make sure he was alive. 

His mother.

James clutched his knees closer to his chest, blinking back tears. 

Why did she have to go? 

He fingered the little red button his mother had given him as a baby. 

His stomach rumbled.

He wished he’d packed more than a mere bag of chips which he’d devoured last night. There would probably be a path leading to a town or a village somewhere nearby. 

But how he longed to venture through the mountains and see what was at the very top of the highest peak, but James knew all too well that anyone who’d entered had never returned, just like his Father. 

But there it was, the Peak, glistening in the morning sunlight. 

Surely it wouldn’t do any harm just glimpse what was the top of the peak?

He nodded in affirmation and set off on on his journey.

>>>>

Hugo stared out into the blackness. 

He felt angry, though he didn’t really know why. 

That deep tight knot that seemed to reside in his stomach seemed an almost constant companion. 

His mind began to churn through recent irritations. 

That damned stupid woman. 

Why he’d ever thought she would be a fit person to care for his son he did not know. 

How he longed to have his old life back. 

Before children, before marriage, before he lived his life stuck up here on top of this forsaken mountain.

Hugo stood up and kicked his chair to the floor, his anger finally bringing him to start planning revenge. 

He wandered out of the old castle ruins that he’d called home for the last few years. 

The place was full of loose bricks and stones and damp moss that was weaving its way around the lintels. 

He marched out to his favourite thinking space, an old iron shed formerly used for holding the weaponry of the prior inhabitants. 

Maps of all sorts were scattered across all four corners of the stone floor and mould draped heavily off the wooden rafters. 

Hugo snatched his cloak from the rusty hook in his work-space, thrust the hood over his greying hazel mane, and set foot out of the cagey manor where he lived. 

Then a though struck him. 

What if he could make things right for James, after all Hugo had done. 

But what if James didn’t want to forgive him? 

It was a price worth paying.

It wasn’t the warmest of days, but Hugo still brought with him a thin cloth shirt, cool track pants, & his favourite rubber ducky, just for good measure. 

He’d had to do this many times before, but this was different, he was doing this to save reunite his family. 

James still was a vivid memory he couldn’t banish from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

He remembered the day he’d first seen Amanda, her gorgeous flowing blond hair alone would be enough for any man to fall for.

But she’d chosen him.

Hugo, the lowest possible human being in the universe.

He remembered the pain he’d felt at her bedside the day she’d died, giving birth to a child he didn’t have the heart to see after the passing of his beloved.

He’d refused to listen to the babe’s name. 

All he knew was that it was a girl. 

The poor child had been forced into another home so Hugo could escape the turture of his heart ripping to pieces everytime he saw her. 

He regretted that decision.

Not even James had been allowed to know the true reason of his beloved mother’s death.

No one did, except him.

>>>>

James began trudging through the woods with no idea where he was or how far he was from his destination.

A soft wailing noise haunted the breeze.

James froze, the noise seemed to be coming from all around him, calling him.

The wind seemed to carry him off the path to a place that was unlike any other, a place that most would think would only exist in their worst nightmares.

It was a black pit filled with the remnants of a faint glow.

The interior of the cave was dark and empty. 

The soft stone of the wall crumbed away in his hand. 

Mild and unsound air hung in the atmosphere and was stale to taste.

A soft wind flowed lazily from a small gap in the ceiling and the few leaves that penetrated in the narrow capacity whispered at the wind’s passage. 

The ground was a sticky combination of what seemed like sweat and stagnant water. 

It was nearly impossible to have the opportunity to step on an even slightly arid piece of soil.

With every step he felt he was losing consciousness, and yet he somehow felt at home.

James used his hands to feel his way around the room. 

Soon, something smooth and glassy skimmed James’s outstretched palm. 

Light burst from it at his touch. 

It resembled the mirror on his mother’s vanity at home, only, it didn’t show his reflection. 

Rather, it showed a moment in James’s past…

He was sitting by the kindling hearth while his mother sat in her chair, rocking back and forth in time with her song.

His mother had been a beautiful woman. 

Her eyes were a faded sea blue and her golden hair danced in the subtle wind like a flurry of leaves. 

Her moods never varied, she was as affectionate and devoted as any mother should be. Though her delicate features were a pleasing aspect, she never seemed to notice.

James heard her soothing voice whispering in his ear.

Those words would never be forgotten.

“James, my dear boy, my darling son. The time has come for me to go,” here she burst into a fit of coughing.

“You see James,” she continued, “I have lived my life now, a very happy life indeed.”

She chuckled, her soft hand ruffling through his hair.

The last thing he saw was her radiant face looking upon his, a look of contentment, and yet a look of pain filling her delicate blue eyes.

James stared at his mother’s image as it faded away.

James recalled the next moment very vividly in his memory. 

It was when his father had declared that he was leaving to explore the peak.

“You shan’t be alone, your Aunt has agreed to care for you from now on,” he’d declared.

James had seen her before, and that was enough. 

She stood silhouetted in the doorway, a dark figure in the dying glow of the setting sun. As she edged her way into the room, he remembered that he didn’t want her to see him. 

Her spiky dull brown hair drifted in the breeze as her piercing black eyes swallowed him up like prey. 

When she finally spoke, he knew he could never learn to love her.

His Aunt’s image faded out revealing a young girl sitting on a stone outside a cottage, sewing.

Her tight stitches seemed barely visible to the human eye.

She was petite and delicate, but she looked anything but content. Every so often she’d look out to the horizon, that familiar look of pain filled her warm eyes.

Her golden hair was stirring in the slight gale, and her pale face was caught in the final glimmer of sunlight.

He watched intensely as she lay down her handiwork beside her and began to write something on a piece of crinkled paper.

Then a soft breeze blew it out of her hands, she turned and watched as it blew away.

James reached out his hand as if to stop the image from fading way, and to his amazement the note came flying right into his open hand.

Then the beautiful girl in the image too, faded away.

James stared at the note in front of him.

He had no idea what had just happened.

He began to read its small lettering:

James,

Through these mirrors you will see

The past, the future, including me.

If you listen, then you learn

Then you will be the one who knows me.

-Aliece

What was that supposed to mean?

It must be a trick of the light, or in this case the dark.

He had to get out of this cave.

He turned on his heels, and tucking the note in his front pocket continued on his journey.

>>>>

Had he seen her? 

She wasn’t sure. 

All she knew was that the wind had done its job and the note had made its way through the pane, into the hands of the troubled looking boy. 

Where had she seen those tortured blue eyes before? 

They seemed so familiar, but somehow still like a dream. 

Mrs Clarkson’s voice broke her reverie, anchoring her back into her current surroundings, her current life. “Aliece, Aliece!” she seemed annoyed, put out by Aliece’s absence. 

This latest foster home had been calmer than others that she had been to, but nevertheless she did not want to try Mrs Clarkson’s temper. 

Her greying auburn hair was oftentimes pushed back in frustration when it dared to stray from its tightly wound bun, and Aliece knew that she did not take cheerfully to her stodgy meals sitting unattended for long. 

She turned and walked back to the cottage, the words of the page she had just released turning over in her mind,

Would he understand what she meant? 

Would he recognise in her words the deep need she had to be free? 

As she neared the cottage she could hear the clanging of pots and pans as Mrs Clarkson started serving up the evening meal. 

Tuesday; pork chops with apple sauce. Twelve months, every evening of the week, as unchanging as Mrs Clarkson’s hairstyle. 

Mr Clarkson had died years ago, long before Mrs Clarkson had started taking in foster children. His photos beshrew the mantlepiece but his name was never mentioned and he was as anonymous to Aliece as any of the characters in her life before foster care. 

There were always only two places set at the table each night, no visitors ever came, none were invited. 

“Aliece! Come on, child!” She picked up her pace. 

She could sense Mrs Clarkson wasn’t in the mood to be messed with. Though, that hardly made a difference. Her mood had remained completely unvaried since last year.

>>>>

James pushed a branch out of the way as he tried to get his bearings. 

There seemed to be nothing for miles. 

A pillar of black smoke rose in the horizon. 

James decided to follow it, it might be a cottage or a town or something. 

There was a prickley feeling on his leg and James slapped his limb. 

He pulled his hand way to reveal a squashed mosquito. 

He grimaced. 

Ahead of him was a cottage with smoke coming from the chimney. 

He brushed his hands off and tentatively knocked on the heavy oak door. 

A woman opened the door. 

James noticed that her hair was tied back very tightly, and for a moment began to wonder why she would torture herself that way. 

“Excuse me young man, is there something I can do for you?” Asked the lady. 

James shook his head, then nodded. 

“I was wondering if you have some food I might be able to eat? I haven’t eaten for awhile.” 

The lady looked annoyed, James couldn’t help but feel sorry for her family, she seemed very hard to please. 

“Very well,” spoke the lady, rather harshly. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give you a little something.” 

James entered the little cottage and looked around him. 

Outside the window he saw a very familiar stone in the garden, and could just picture that girl in the mirror sitting on it. 

His attention focused on the sound of footsteps. 

The lady left James with his bread and butter, and went in the direction of the footsteps. James heard a girl’s voice speaking to the lady. “Mrs Clarkson,” she said, “may I go outside and play for a bit?” The lady, Mrs Clarkson replied gruffly, “I suppose so.” 

“Thank you Mrs Clarkson!” James heard the girls footsteps approach the room, and he turned back to his bread. 

All of a sudden, the footsteps slowed, then stopped completely. 

James glanced at the girl from the corner of his eye, and did a little start of surprise. 

It was the girl in the mirror. 

The girl was staring straight back, with the same expression. 

Mrs Clarkson eyed them suspiciously. 

“Have you two meet before?” Mrs Clarkson queried. 

Aliece shook her head, “not officially, but we have seen each other before.”

“I’m James,” said the owner of that name, extending his hand towards Aliece. 

Aliece took it and replied, “And I’m Aliece.” 

Mrs Clarkson told them to go play outside and keep out of her way. 

>>>>

When outside, Aliece motioned for James to sit down. 

“James, before I was taken into foster care, my mother gave me this,” she took a tiny red button from her pocket and handed it to James. 

James stared in surprise, then pulled out the little red button his mother had given him. They were identical.

James shook his head in disbelief. 

“What a strange coincidence!” he exclaimed. 

Aliece frowned, “James, it’s no coincidence! All my life I’ve been told I had a brother, and I’d never believed it until I saw you! This proves it! James, you are my brother.” 

James took a moment to straighten his thoughts. 

It didn’t add up. 

And yet here his long-lost sister was, sitting right in front of him. 

“James.” Aliece whispered. “I don’t have to be in foster care anymore now that I’ve found you! We can be a happy family again, You, me, Mum and Dad.” 

James wiped a tear from his eye. 

“James, what’s the matter? Don’t you want a happy family?” 

James sniffed. 

“Aliece, it’s not that, it’s just…. mother died when I was younger, at about the time you would’ve been born…” James trailed off. 

His mother had died about the time when Aliece would’ve been born. 

He finally understood the reason of his mother’s passing. 

She had died giving birth to Aliece. 

All the peices of the puzzle were finally coming together. 

Mrs Clarkson’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

“James, there’s someone here to see you!” 

A man walked through the door and into the backyard where James and Aliece were. James’s eyes took in the over grown beard, the ragged clothes and blue eyes, and knew at once who it was. 

“James.” The man whispered.

“Dad.” James whispered back.

For a moment it seemed all that James could do was to stare at his father. Aliece looked at the pair awkwardly, but then Hugo welcomed her into his arms. James, Aliece and their father wept for the future they would never have, for their mother, for all the mistakes they’d made. Then they embraced and thought; at least we still have each other.