The is a short story that I wrote for a competition, but sadly it didn't win. I wrote this with the scenery of Iceland in mind as the backdrop, and for inspiration I listened to the Icelandic band, Sigur Rós, while I wrote.
The sun rises in quite splendor; a yellow jewel on the green horizon. The day had won victory over the night and now she brightens the blackened sky; turning to grey, white, then blushing pink. No one had ever seen so beautiful a sunrise as this sunrise now. But for the two boys on the vast empty plain, after enduring the horrors of last night, they hardly notice it. They hardly notice the mist, catching the rays of sunlight and refracting it into hues uncountable. They don’t see the quiet stream babbling a short distance off, clear as crystals and as if it had been squeezed from the clear blue sky itself. No, they notice none of the land’s surrounding beauty; at least, not now. Instead, their attention is upon the frightening wounds the elder has; ugly reminders of the dark night that now lies behind them.
The sun rises in quite splendor; a yellow jewel on the green horizon. The day had won victory over the night and now she brightens the blackened sky; turning to grey, white, then blushing pink. No one had ever seen so beautiful a sunrise as this sunrise now. But for the two boys on the vast empty plain, after enduring the horrors of last night, they hardly notice it. They hardly notice the mist, catching the rays of sunlight and refracting it into hues uncountable. They don’t see the quiet stream babbling a short distance off, clear as crystals and as if it had been squeezed from the clear blue sky itself. No, they notice none of the land’s surrounding beauty; at least, not now. Instead, their attention is upon the frightening wounds the elder has; ugly reminders of the dark night that now lies behind them.
The younger of the two, Charles, is much the junior of the wounded boy. It is he who ties the torn pieces of cloth over the injuries; being directed by his older brother, William. When the gruesome task is finished, and the make shift bandages are tightly on and gathering blood, the two sit side by side; finally noticing one kindness that nature has bestowed upon them. Green vegetation, soft and cool, lines the otherwise rocky terrain in a thick carpet. Their fingers sink deep into the blanket of living leaves, and they breathe in the fresh air as if they had never before taken a drink of air; like a baby just moments in the world.
“Is there any food left that we could have for breakfast?” The elder asks, brown eyes trying to hide his pain. Charles shakes his head sadly, chin trembling.
“No. All the food was in your pack… there’s nothing, except some beef jerky that I have.”
“Oh…” And for a moment, those eyes, bravely holding back the fears of the night, are flooded with anxiety; a flicker of doubt. William knows he must be brave though, so that flicker is quickly disguised with a grin. “See? God is already providing for us! We’ll have a kingly feast of jerky. And later, God will provide for us again. There’s no reason to worry!” This last comment was more to himself then to his younger brother, but still, brightened by his older brother’s confidence, the fear lifts slightly from Charles’ face.
But no amount of bravery on his older brother’s part can completely dispel the dread upon Charles’ heart. For he is not too young to understand the peril they are in. The vast plain of heathery plants seems to stretch out forever; the sky has turned overcast as it often is here and he can see a thick fog rolling in from the distance. The wind has grown hard and cold, whistling over jagged edges of rock and it seems to blow away all other sounds, leaving a dead silence despite its rushing. This all had been so wonderfully mysterious and beautiful to him before last night, when his brother was in good health and led the way with confidence and a back pack full of food; but now all that is gone and the lonely splendor of the landscape only frightens him.
It had been foggy that previous night, no breath of wind stirring the wisps of mist that lay thick over the land. Even though it was nearly impossible to see, they hadn’t stopped when the last ray of golden sunshine receded into shadows. Charles had asked his brother why they kept going after dark; William explained that the camp was only a few miles ahead. The land they were crossing that night was an area full of sharp rocks and sudden drop offs, and the elder said that it wouldn’t make for a very comfortable or safe place to spend the night without gear. So they continued on, their progress being very slow. William knew how treacherous this place was at night, even if the fog hadn’t been so thick. They had to pick each step with care. Even with all their caution, they couldn’t have kept the accident from happening; the night was much too evil to let them pass unharmed. Suddenly, with no warning, a seemingly solid rock that the older brother had set his foot on gave away and he lost his balance. Falling head long he tumbled down into a deep chasm. He couldn’t keep from crying out in pain as he had slid, the whole side of his body being ripped at by the jagged rocks. His voice seemed muffled, swallowed up by the surrounding fog. As he went over the edge, William caught himself just in time on some rocks jutting out; the pack he carried over his shoulder, filled with life giving food and water, continued down without him, down into the black abyss. Charles had only just heard his brother fall, saw him slip out of sight in the mist and his following muffled cry, when he found himself alone in the eerie white mists. “William?... William?” Charles called after his brother, voice squeaky and raw with freight. He had got down on his hands and knees, after fully realizing what had happened to William, and crawled forward, ignoring the sharp pain of the pieces of rock going into his soft palms. It felt like hours to Charles, inching forward little by little, frantically begging God to let his brother be alive, before he came upon the rock edge, going down immeasurably. In truth, it had only been a few minutes, but the mists swirling around him, filling his eyes with nothingness, gave the illusion of frozen time; his heart giving the only beat of life in those dead moments of fear. It was a miracle in itself that he did not steer too far to the left or to the right and missed his brother clinging to life completely. It had only been faith and hope that kept William hanging on for so long; willing his fingers, scraped raw on the rocks, to hang on… to be strong enough. If not for his own sake, for he did not fear death, but for Charles’ sake. Because, without a leader, the young boy would surely parish as well in the harsh lands alone. But he couldn’t have held on for much longer, with the numbing cold loosening his grip and turning his muscles to liquid. Charles had gotten there only just in time. The darkness of that night did not prevail; they would live to see the dawn.
The wind blows strong, icy and biting. A tear escapes and rolls down Charles’ cheek. “It’s going to be alright.” His brother says, seeing that single tear. “You’re big enough to take care of us both now… I have faith in you, Charles”
The young boy swallows hard, wiping away that one betraying tear. He nods, resolving in his heart that he would keep himself and William alive until rescue. This much he knew he had to do.
He stands and points to the far horizon. “I think… I think I know the way.”
