Prism
by Kat Heckenbach
We stood at the edge
by Kat Heckenbach
We stood at the edge
of the forest. I watched Mack and Jake on the other side of the prism as they looked straight ahead into the wall of trees. Mack's eye twitched a few times so I knew he was concentrating. Jake swallowed and a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek.
“Eryk,” Davis said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry about them. It's your decision today.”
“I know,” I said, not turning to look at him. He'd been through the Prism Challenge two years ago and told me it was no big deal. Piece of cake. But I'm not my brother, and the thought of facing the unknown doesn't give me a thrill.
I flexed my fingers, pressing away the urge to run home.
Heat pricked my cheek as the sun peeked a sliver of its edge over the treetops that lined the clearing. Once the other golden edge crossed that line, and the sun showed itself in its fullness, the timer would begin. My heart pounded with dread. Why did we have to stand here for so long? I could handle this much better if I was allowed to pace the floor of my bedroom and dash to the forest at the last possible second.
Davis put his other hand against my lower back and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Don't believe the rumors, little brother. They say it's all the same, but…” Davis cleared his throat. “Just make the right choice when the time comes and you'll see.”
“You're not helping, Davis. Seriously.”
He let go of me and huffed. “You just refuse to see don't you? I don't know why we waste our time.” He marched off and joined our parents, who huddled among the onlookers. Mom smiled at Davis as he approached, then shot me a worried glance that put a crinkle between her eyebrows. Dad shook his head at something Davis said. Nothing could have shown his disappointment more. Disappointment that I wasn't half the son Davis had been at seventeen.
The sun eased farther into the open sky above the clearing, its rays dancing across the surface of the prism. I allowed my gaze to settle on the giant glass pillar. Easily twenty feet tall, its three edges glimmered razor sharp. The pedestal on which it stood glinted steel. It was silent now, but when the sun reached the appropriate spot gears would come to life inside as the pedestal moved to adjust the prism's position.
I remembered from Davis's year--the only year I was allowed to watch--the beauty of the prism as it splayed its vibrant rainbow, saturating the trees with stripes of color. It had seemed surreal and inviting as each path appeared, sections of trees dematerializing when touched by the hued light. I'd smiled and my heart seemed to stop beating, so jealous of Davis for getting to go through the challenge first.
Until I'd spied blood-red shadows crossing the paths in unison.
Ice flooded my skin at that moment, even as Davis hooted joyously and dove between the trees of the blue path, the matching blue banner waving from his outstretched hand.
It dawned on me then: If all the paths were the same, why do we have to choose a color?
Seven flags, one for each color of the rainbow, had been placed inside a cylindrical container and we would each choose a handle. It felt so primitive. Every part of our lives was touched by technology, yet the most important of them all came down to drawing straws.
“It's almost there!” someone whisper-yelled behind me. I spun around, and then followed the old woman's gaze up to the sun, which was pulling its far edge over the tops of the trees. The ground shifted beneath me, and I knelt down with the pretense of tightening my shoelaces so I could steady my balance. As I stood back up, I slipped a glance at my parents. Mom's forehead had crinkled even more and Dad's face was stone.
Mr. Stenson stepped into the space in front of Mack and Jake and turned to the crowd. His smile pushed his cheeks out in a nervous grin. Since the beginning of last semester, the high school principal had talked endlessly about being chosen to officiate the challenge.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, but it was only moments before the pounding of my pulse drowned out the rest of his words. The trees pulled in around me, hazy green and twisting, as the earth turned concave beneath my feet. I gripped my thighs through the denim of my jeans. My fingertips dug painfully into the muscle, and my vision cleared enough to steady me.
Something rattled to my left, tinny and distant. I stifled a gasp when I realized Mr. Stenson was standing beside me, shaking the canister of flags. My throat squeezed, and I bit my lip, staring at the five wooden sticks poking out of the metal cylinder.
I focused my attention to my peripheral vision, where Mack and Jake stood waving their flags. I caught a flash of orange in Jake's hand, but couldn't make out the color Mack held.
The handle shook as I withdrew the flag, slowly, the clink, clink of it tapping against the metal matching time with my racing heart. And then the colored fabric appeared and caught the wind.
Green.
I didn't know whether to be grateful or angry. It meant less unknown, since everything would look much the same. But it felt so…ordinary. Like me.
Mr. Stetson stepped back and smiled again. I finally noticed the ticking of the timer, and then the buzzer screeched. The gears began to grind, followed by the whine-clunk of the pedestal's top turning. Shards of sunlight screamed through the clearing, and I threw my hand in front of my eyes to keep from being blinded.
The pedestal slowed its movement, and the light mellowed. I lowered my hand to the find the rainbow-painted forest spread before me. Seven paths gaped like maws of a multicolored beast. Mr. Stetson held up his hand, signaling us to move into position in front of the color that matched our flags. As I moved toward the center path, Mack crossed in front of me, clutching an indigo flag. I glanced over to Jake at my left; his orange flag was tucked into his back jeans pocket.
I took one last look at my family. Dad's arm was draped around Mom's shoulders. He stared at me. For the first time, behind the stone eyes I saw concern. Mom's lip quivered. Davis stood military stiff, arms crossed, and gave the slightest nod. I turned back around to find Mr. Stetson with his arm still raised.
He must have been counting, because I could see his lips move, but I couldn't hear him. And then his hand dropped. Mack shot off into the indigo path, the flag still gripped tightly. I swung my gaze to Jake; he raked his hand through his hair, glanced at me, then dashed into the orange path.
I swallowed, switched my flag from my right hand to my left, and pushed off.
~~~~~
A mass of green surrounded me. Deeper, richer than the normal green of the forest. Light seemed to absorb into the foliage, and the shadows slinked long and menacing under the outstretched limbs.
The thump of my pounding feet and the crunch-slide of leaves beneath them echoed in my ears. I glanced in every direction as I plunged ahead…minutes passed and my muscles burned…but nothing jumped out at me.
I slowed down. The bmp-bmp of my heart and hhsshh of my breathing now filling my ears. The air was earthy, musty…thick. And cold.
Ahead of me, the path remained straight as far as I could see. Where were the obstacles? I glanced over my shoulder and found a wall of trees had swallowed the path behind me. My hearth thump-thudded, and skipped back into a pounding rhythm as my left hand twitched.
No turning back.
I pushed forward again, at a full run.
Howls and clicking caws began to emanate from either side of me. Branches rustled in my periphery. I kept my gaze focused on the path ahead, urging my legs to move faster, harder.
A glow appeared in front of me--silvery and ghostlike, the size and shape of...a man? Whiteness flowed like robes behind it. Thoughts flooded my head, my overactive imagination taking hold and slamming me with crazy ideas about former challengers trapped in the forest, still running the race even after their bodies had expired.
But robes? Was the challenge that old? I racked my brain for information about the start of the challenge. I must have learned when it originated somewhere along the line, in school, from Davis…but nothing came to me. It had simply always “been” in my mind. So maybe this really was a runner from thousands of years ago…
I shook my head and pushed harder. The sooner I got through, the better.
Another glance over my shoulder confirmed the forest still silently closed up behind me with each step.
A scream shot through the trees at my right. Mack. I skidded to a halt.
There was a gap in the trees, a section where the foliage thinned out enough for the blue of the path on the other side to show through. I stepped toward it and leaned in to see.
The blue path looked to be about as wide as the green path, and another gap with a purplish tint lined up with this one on the other side. I stared through the gaps into the purple haze. A blood-red shadow shot past…and then another scream ripped through the trees.
It felt as if all the blood in my body evaporated at once. The flag slipped from my hand and I grabbed the tree to my left for support. What was I supposed to do? Continue down my path and ignore Mack's scream? Or cross over and help him?
Could I help him?
I pushed the branches aside and squeezed through the gap, then dashed across the blue path. The second gap was a little wider and I jumped through without slowing down. Another scream rang out, to my left. I spun and ran.
The red shadow loomed over a form crumpled on the ground. I willed my legs to move faster, eyes locked on Mack.
“Leave him alone!” The sound of my scream drowned out everything else for a moment, but the red shadow didn't move.
Wisps of silver appeared along the sides of the path, eerily cast by the indigo light. A dozen at least. They pulled free of the trees and converged toward the red shadow and Mack, still lying motionless on the ground.
I froze in place. Were they there to help?
The air filled with the tinkling of bells, like a thousand distant wind chimes. I found myself staring at the scene in front of me. The shadow stalked around Mack, morphing form from lion to dragon to snake. Mack's groaning became an undercurrent to the increasing clamor of bells, and I slapped my hands over my ears.
The ghosts--yes, they were ghosts, I could see that clearly now--closed in on the red shadow. It hissed and reared up on hind legs, giant claws bared. Silvery robes flitted as they tightened around it, merging until they formed a ring around the shadow and Mack.
The ghosts linked hands and the entire circle moved with the shadow trapped inside, until they reached several yards beyond the spot where Mack lay curled and still groaning. Without warning, the circle of ghosts imploded--a flash of red rimmed by silver--and they were gone.
I ran to Mack and dropped to my knees. Dirt smeared nearly every inch of him, but I found no blood. He seemed unhurt.
“Mack, are you okay?” I gently shook him.
His eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”
“I don't know. But we need to get out of here.” I grabbed his arm and helped him sit up. “You're not hurt are you?”
He shook his head. “Sore, but I think I'm fine.” He stood, wobbled a bit, then gained his balance. Inhaled, and bit his lip. “You better get back to your path, Eryk.”
“No, I'm not leaving you.”
“Isn't it against the rules?”
“Far as I remember, the rules only say you have to enter your path alone. I don't think there's supposed to be connections between them, though.” We both turned to face the gap in the trees. Mack stepped toward it, and the branches rustled. Another step, and they snapped together, closing the gap.
He shrugged. “I guess we have no choice now, huh?”
We moved forward, jogging in sync. Just like in my path, the trees closed up behind us. The purple-tinted foliage blurred past on either side. After only a few minutes I grew quite sick of the color.
“Why doesn't the light tint us?” Mack asked.
I hadn't thought about that. I looked down at the beige flesh of my arm. “That is weird.”
“Everything about this is weird,” Mack said. He stared straight ahead, his jaw set and eyes narrowed.
“That thing…” he said and coughed. “It came out of nowhere. I didn't see it until it was on top of me.”
He paused, then looked at me. “Thanks.”
I nodded. “I didn't really do anything, though.”
“Then what chased it away?”
What was I supposed to say--ghosts?
“Did you see anything in the path…like people in robes?”
“Nah, nothing. Nothing but freakin' purple trees.”
I laughed, and Mack's serious expression broke. We continued jogging in silence, the swish-crunch of our steps a lonely sound, and the light nearly dizzying around us.
The path turned sharply left, and as we rounded the corner, a fork came into view. We stopped. The left side spread out and merged with a path striped by all the colors of the rainbow. It was far wider than the path we'd been traveling, and Mack said exactly what I was thinking.
“The paths all join?” He cocked his head to side as if trying for a better view.
“It doesn't make sense,” I said. “The violet path is to our right, but it doesn't cross here.”
“There's violet over there, though,” he said, and stepped forward.
He was right. But how? It looked as though all the paths combined without actually connecting. Did they each have a fork like the one we stood at? And did this lead out?
“That's got to be how we go,” Mack said.
I looked at the other side of the fork. The path was much narrower, but it glistened silvery like the ghosts that had helped Mack. I caught movement near the entrance and looked closer. A figure gazed at me, its robes fluttering as if in a breeze. The air around me was dead still.
Davis' words played in the back of my mind. Just make the right choice when the time comes and you'll see.
“Mack, I think we have to take the narrow path.”
Mack glanced over at the silvery path. “It's dark over there. Creepy. No way.”
“What do you mean?” The path wasn't dark. It all but glowed.
“I mean, I'm going this way. You coming or not?” He sounded agitated.
I stared at the narrow path and the silvery figure. I knew somehow it was the same one that I'd seen on my own path. The same one who had called the other to save Mack.
“You don't see that?” I asked.
“What?” More than agitated this time.
I reluctantly pushed the word out: “Him.”
“You're cracking on me, Eryk,” Mack said. “Listen, I want this thing over. You go where you gotta go, but I'm going this way.” He shook his head and jogged toward the wide, colored path. It was beautiful, I had to admit. I craned my head and thought I saw white light. Was that really the end?
Something tugged inside me, and I turned to the narrow path. The figure seemed to be smiling. I stepped toward him, and into the opening.
The man laid a hand on my shoulder. I gasped. He no longer looked ghostly, but solid, human. I felt the warmth of his hand through my shirt.
“Come with me,” he said, eyes twinkling with joy like nothing I'd ever seen before.
The path gave us just enough room to walk side by side. Neither of us spoke, but there seemed to be no need.
A howl broke through the trees, and I stopped. The man turned and pulled at my shoulder. “You must keep going.”
“But that was Mack…” I swallowed. My throat ached.
“I know, but he has made his choice. He'll continue the challenge and face the obstacles.” He turned and began walking. I followed.
~~~~~
We emerged from the path to find the crowd gathered, waiting. Mom and Dad hugged each other, and Mom's face widened with a brilliant smile. Davis's fist shot up in the air.
I looked closely at Dad. His lip twitched, and then his mouth spread into a smile. A tear coursed down his cheek. I realized he was gazing past me, at the man who stood by my side.
“Go to them,” the man whispered. “I'll be here.”
I stepped out from the path and scanned the rest of the crowd. Jake's parents were hugging him. He was dirty, and sagged with fatigue. Blood dripped from a wound on his arm. A trail of red led from him back to the wide, color-striped exit of the path.
As I stared at the opening, Mack emerged. Blood stained his clothes, and he limped, dragging his left foot. But his eyes shone with triumph. The crowd cheered. I watched them, one by one, moving forward to congratulate Jake and Mack. I noticed for the first time the hollowness in everyone's eyes.
I turned back to my family, whose eyes were filled with the joy I'd seen in the eyes of the man on the path. No one seemed to notice us, but it didn't matter. The challenge was done, my choice made.
}
~~~~~ <~
}
“Eryk,” Davis said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry about them. It's your decision today.”
“I know,” I said, not turning to look at him. He'd been through the Prism Challenge two years ago and told me it was no big deal. Piece of cake. But I'm not my brother, and the thought of facing the unknown doesn't give me a thrill.
I flexed my fingers, pressing away the urge to run home.
Heat pricked my cheek as the sun peeked a sliver of its edge over the treetops that lined the clearing. Once the other golden edge crossed that line, and the sun showed itself in its fullness, the timer would begin. My heart pounded with dread. Why did we have to stand here for so long? I could handle this much better if I was allowed to pace the floor of my bedroom and dash to the forest at the last possible second.
Davis put his other hand against my lower back and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Don't believe the rumors, little brother. They say it's all the same, but…” Davis cleared his throat. “Just make the right choice when the time comes and you'll see.”
“You're not helping, Davis. Seriously.”
He let go of me and huffed. “You just refuse to see don't you? I don't know why we waste our time.” He marched off and joined our parents, who huddled among the onlookers. Mom smiled at Davis as he approached, then shot me a worried glance that put a crinkle between her eyebrows. Dad shook his head at something Davis said. Nothing could have shown his disappointment more. Disappointment that I wasn't half the son Davis had been at seventeen.
The sun eased farther into the open sky above the clearing, its rays dancing across the surface of the prism. I allowed my gaze to settle on the giant glass pillar. Easily twenty feet tall, its three edges glimmered razor sharp. The pedestal on which it stood glinted steel. It was silent now, but when the sun reached the appropriate spot gears would come to life inside as the pedestal moved to adjust the prism's position.
I remembered from Davis's year--the only year I was allowed to watch--the beauty of the prism as it splayed its vibrant rainbow, saturating the trees with stripes of color. It had seemed surreal and inviting as each path appeared, sections of trees dematerializing when touched by the hued light. I'd smiled and my heart seemed to stop beating, so jealous of Davis for getting to go through the challenge first.
Until I'd spied blood-red shadows crossing the paths in unison.
Ice flooded my skin at that moment, even as Davis hooted joyously and dove between the trees of the blue path, the matching blue banner waving from his outstretched hand.
It dawned on me then: If all the paths were the same, why do we have to choose a color?
Seven flags, one for each color of the rainbow, had been placed inside a cylindrical container and we would each choose a handle. It felt so primitive. Every part of our lives was touched by technology, yet the most important of them all came down to drawing straws.
“It's almost there!” someone whisper-yelled behind me. I spun around, and then followed the old woman's gaze up to the sun, which was pulling its far edge over the tops of the trees. The ground shifted beneath me, and I knelt down with the pretense of tightening my shoelaces so I could steady my balance. As I stood back up, I slipped a glance at my parents. Mom's forehead had crinkled even more and Dad's face was stone.
Mr. Stenson stepped into the space in front of Mack and Jake and turned to the crowd. His smile pushed his cheeks out in a nervous grin. Since the beginning of last semester, the high school principal had talked endlessly about being chosen to officiate the challenge.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, but it was only moments before the pounding of my pulse drowned out the rest of his words. The trees pulled in around me, hazy green and twisting, as the earth turned concave beneath my feet. I gripped my thighs through the denim of my jeans. My fingertips dug painfully into the muscle, and my vision cleared enough to steady me.
Something rattled to my left, tinny and distant. I stifled a gasp when I realized Mr. Stenson was standing beside me, shaking the canister of flags. My throat squeezed, and I bit my lip, staring at the five wooden sticks poking out of the metal cylinder.
I focused my attention to my peripheral vision, where Mack and Jake stood waving their flags. I caught a flash of orange in Jake's hand, but couldn't make out the color Mack held.
The handle shook as I withdrew the flag, slowly, the clink, clink of it tapping against the metal matching time with my racing heart. And then the colored fabric appeared and caught the wind.
Green.
I didn't know whether to be grateful or angry. It meant less unknown, since everything would look much the same. But it felt so…ordinary. Like me.
Mr. Stetson stepped back and smiled again. I finally noticed the ticking of the timer, and then the buzzer screeched. The gears began to grind, followed by the whine-clunk of the pedestal's top turning. Shards of sunlight screamed through the clearing, and I threw my hand in front of my eyes to keep from being blinded.
The pedestal slowed its movement, and the light mellowed. I lowered my hand to the find the rainbow-painted forest spread before me. Seven paths gaped like maws of a multicolored beast. Mr. Stetson held up his hand, signaling us to move into position in front of the color that matched our flags. As I moved toward the center path, Mack crossed in front of me, clutching an indigo flag. I glanced over to Jake at my left; his orange flag was tucked into his back jeans pocket.
I took one last look at my family. Dad's arm was draped around Mom's shoulders. He stared at me. For the first time, behind the stone eyes I saw concern. Mom's lip quivered. Davis stood military stiff, arms crossed, and gave the slightest nod. I turned back around to find Mr. Stetson with his arm still raised.
He must have been counting, because I could see his lips move, but I couldn't hear him. And then his hand dropped. Mack shot off into the indigo path, the flag still gripped tightly. I swung my gaze to Jake; he raked his hand through his hair, glanced at me, then dashed into the orange path.
I swallowed, switched my flag from my right hand to my left, and pushed off.
~~~~~
A mass of green surrounded me. Deeper, richer than the normal green of the forest. Light seemed to absorb into the foliage, and the shadows slinked long and menacing under the outstretched limbs.
The thump of my pounding feet and the crunch-slide of leaves beneath them echoed in my ears. I glanced in every direction as I plunged ahead…minutes passed and my muscles burned…but nothing jumped out at me.
I slowed down. The bmp-bmp of my heart and hhsshh of my breathing now filling my ears. The air was earthy, musty…thick. And cold.
Ahead of me, the path remained straight as far as I could see. Where were the obstacles? I glanced over my shoulder and found a wall of trees had swallowed the path behind me. My hearth thump-thudded, and skipped back into a pounding rhythm as my left hand twitched.
No turning back.
I pushed forward again, at a full run.
Howls and clicking caws began to emanate from either side of me. Branches rustled in my periphery. I kept my gaze focused on the path ahead, urging my legs to move faster, harder.
A glow appeared in front of me--silvery and ghostlike, the size and shape of...a man? Whiteness flowed like robes behind it. Thoughts flooded my head, my overactive imagination taking hold and slamming me with crazy ideas about former challengers trapped in the forest, still running the race even after their bodies had expired.
But robes? Was the challenge that old? I racked my brain for information about the start of the challenge. I must have learned when it originated somewhere along the line, in school, from Davis…but nothing came to me. It had simply always “been” in my mind. So maybe this really was a runner from thousands of years ago…
I shook my head and pushed harder. The sooner I got through, the better.
Another glance over my shoulder confirmed the forest still silently closed up behind me with each step.
A scream shot through the trees at my right. Mack. I skidded to a halt.
There was a gap in the trees, a section where the foliage thinned out enough for the blue of the path on the other side to show through. I stepped toward it and leaned in to see.
The blue path looked to be about as wide as the green path, and another gap with a purplish tint lined up with this one on the other side. I stared through the gaps into the purple haze. A blood-red shadow shot past…and then another scream ripped through the trees.
It felt as if all the blood in my body evaporated at once. The flag slipped from my hand and I grabbed the tree to my left for support. What was I supposed to do? Continue down my path and ignore Mack's scream? Or cross over and help him?
Could I help him?
I pushed the branches aside and squeezed through the gap, then dashed across the blue path. The second gap was a little wider and I jumped through without slowing down. Another scream rang out, to my left. I spun and ran.
The red shadow loomed over a form crumpled on the ground. I willed my legs to move faster, eyes locked on Mack.
“Leave him alone!” The sound of my scream drowned out everything else for a moment, but the red shadow didn't move.
Wisps of silver appeared along the sides of the path, eerily cast by the indigo light. A dozen at least. They pulled free of the trees and converged toward the red shadow and Mack, still lying motionless on the ground.
I froze in place. Were they there to help?
The air filled with the tinkling of bells, like a thousand distant wind chimes. I found myself staring at the scene in front of me. The shadow stalked around Mack, morphing form from lion to dragon to snake. Mack's groaning became an undercurrent to the increasing clamor of bells, and I slapped my hands over my ears.
The ghosts--yes, they were ghosts, I could see that clearly now--closed in on the red shadow. It hissed and reared up on hind legs, giant claws bared. Silvery robes flitted as they tightened around it, merging until they formed a ring around the shadow and Mack.
The ghosts linked hands and the entire circle moved with the shadow trapped inside, until they reached several yards beyond the spot where Mack lay curled and still groaning. Without warning, the circle of ghosts imploded--a flash of red rimmed by silver--and they were gone.
I ran to Mack and dropped to my knees. Dirt smeared nearly every inch of him, but I found no blood. He seemed unhurt.
“Mack, are you okay?” I gently shook him.
His eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”
“I don't know. But we need to get out of here.” I grabbed his arm and helped him sit up. “You're not hurt are you?”
He shook his head. “Sore, but I think I'm fine.” He stood, wobbled a bit, then gained his balance. Inhaled, and bit his lip. “You better get back to your path, Eryk.”
“No, I'm not leaving you.”
“Isn't it against the rules?”
“Far as I remember, the rules only say you have to enter your path alone. I don't think there's supposed to be connections between them, though.” We both turned to face the gap in the trees. Mack stepped toward it, and the branches rustled. Another step, and they snapped together, closing the gap.
He shrugged. “I guess we have no choice now, huh?”
We moved forward, jogging in sync. Just like in my path, the trees closed up behind us. The purple-tinted foliage blurred past on either side. After only a few minutes I grew quite sick of the color.
“Why doesn't the light tint us?” Mack asked.
I hadn't thought about that. I looked down at the beige flesh of my arm. “That is weird.”
“Everything about this is weird,” Mack said. He stared straight ahead, his jaw set and eyes narrowed.
“That thing…” he said and coughed. “It came out of nowhere. I didn't see it until it was on top of me.”
He paused, then looked at me. “Thanks.”
I nodded. “I didn't really do anything, though.”
“Then what chased it away?”
What was I supposed to say--ghosts?
“Did you see anything in the path…like people in robes?”
“Nah, nothing. Nothing but freakin' purple trees.”
I laughed, and Mack's serious expression broke. We continued jogging in silence, the swish-crunch of our steps a lonely sound, and the light nearly dizzying around us.
The path turned sharply left, and as we rounded the corner, a fork came into view. We stopped. The left side spread out and merged with a path striped by all the colors of the rainbow. It was far wider than the path we'd been traveling, and Mack said exactly what I was thinking.
“The paths all join?” He cocked his head to side as if trying for a better view.
“It doesn't make sense,” I said. “The violet path is to our right, but it doesn't cross here.”
“There's violet over there, though,” he said, and stepped forward.
He was right. But how? It looked as though all the paths combined without actually connecting. Did they each have a fork like the one we stood at? And did this lead out?
“That's got to be how we go,” Mack said.
I looked at the other side of the fork. The path was much narrower, but it glistened silvery like the ghosts that had helped Mack. I caught movement near the entrance and looked closer. A figure gazed at me, its robes fluttering as if in a breeze. The air around me was dead still.
Davis' words played in the back of my mind. Just make the right choice when the time comes and you'll see.
“Mack, I think we have to take the narrow path.”
Mack glanced over at the silvery path. “It's dark over there. Creepy. No way.”
“What do you mean?” The path wasn't dark. It all but glowed.
“I mean, I'm going this way. You coming or not?” He sounded agitated.
I stared at the narrow path and the silvery figure. I knew somehow it was the same one that I'd seen on my own path. The same one who had called the other to save Mack.
“You don't see that?” I asked.
“What?” More than agitated this time.
I reluctantly pushed the word out: “Him.”
“You're cracking on me, Eryk,” Mack said. “Listen, I want this thing over. You go where you gotta go, but I'm going this way.” He shook his head and jogged toward the wide, colored path. It was beautiful, I had to admit. I craned my head and thought I saw white light. Was that really the end?
Something tugged inside me, and I turned to the narrow path. The figure seemed to be smiling. I stepped toward him, and into the opening.
The man laid a hand on my shoulder. I gasped. He no longer looked ghostly, but solid, human. I felt the warmth of his hand through my shirt.
“Come with me,” he said, eyes twinkling with joy like nothing I'd ever seen before.
The path gave us just enough room to walk side by side. Neither of us spoke, but there seemed to be no need.
A howl broke through the trees, and I stopped. The man turned and pulled at my shoulder. “You must keep going.”
“But that was Mack…” I swallowed. My throat ached.
“I know, but he has made his choice. He'll continue the challenge and face the obstacles.” He turned and began walking. I followed.
~~~~~
We emerged from the path to find the crowd gathered, waiting. Mom and Dad hugged each other, and Mom's face widened with a brilliant smile. Davis's fist shot up in the air.
I looked closely at Dad. His lip twitched, and then his mouth spread into a smile. A tear coursed down his cheek. I realized he was gazing past me, at the man who stood by my side.
“Go to them,” the man whispered. “I'll be here.”
I stepped out from the path and scanned the rest of the crowd. Jake's parents were hugging him. He was dirty, and sagged with fatigue. Blood dripped from a wound on his arm. A trail of red led from him back to the wide, color-striped exit of the path.
As I stared at the opening, Mack emerged. Blood stained his clothes, and he limped, dragging his left foot. But his eyes shone with triumph. The crowd cheered. I watched them, one by one, moving forward to congratulate Jake and Mack. I noticed for the first time the hollowness in everyone's eyes.
I turned back to my family, whose eyes were filled with the joy I'd seen in the eyes of the man on the path. No one seemed to notice us, but it didn't matter. The challenge was done, my choice made.
}
~~~~~ <~
}
Kat Heckenbach is an artist, writer, and homschooling mom. Her writing ranges from inspirational personal experience, to fantasy, to horror, and can be found in multiple online and print magazines and anthologies. Enter her world at www.kat-findingangel.blogspot.com.
