The Final Days of Springborough

Brynn continued on her path toward her brother, hope springing her steps forward even as the rain did not give up. She was well past soaked, somehow feeling wetter by the rain water than she might feel had she dived into a lake. Perhaps each new cold rain drop reminded her of her current situation, of wanting to be dry rather than completely immersed in water. Either way, she was having a terrible time externally.

Internally, she couldn’t contain her excitement. She had been alone for so long, and she could feel how close her brother actually was. She couldn’t wait to hug him, even though they didn’t hug often. But, she was looking forward to holding her younger brother in her arms, to seeing his smile. She’d scan him for injuries, just like their mother would do if she was around. Brynn imagined that the months on the water had thinned him up some, so she was anticipating him being a little gaunt. She’d fetch him, shake his men’s hands, welcome them back to “dry” land and then she and Jage would go hunting for dinner (or, in her case currently, a very late breakfast.)

Maybe he’d need to rest, maybe not. If not, she’d demand to hear about all of his adventures right then and there, about all of that time out on the boat, and if he had felt any closer to finding the Lost Kingdom of Gambrille. She’d tell him about her adventures when everyone was gone which would take all of five minutes as it was, pretty much, just getting up, taking a jog, hunting, cooking, washing, and sleeping. Maybe she’d mention being able to hear and see dead things, but probably that would wait a little longer. Maybe she couldn’t really hear or see dead things, and she had developed a mental crack in her perception from being alone too long. Her mother called them “imaginary friends”- people you create when you’re lonely and just want someone to play with.

Is that what Jimmy was? An imaginary friend?

“Jimmy?” she said softly into the storm. She didn’t feel alone, on the path that slowly descended the side of the cliff toward the waters. She couldn’t see where the path and the seas met, which she knew was a distance away, but she kept thinking with every turn around the natural, eroded wall that the lanterns of the dock would be twinkling back at her.

“Stop!”

A voice shouted at her, one she had never heard before. And for a moment, Brynn did stop right in her tracks, arms out in front of her as if she was about to run into a wall, and the voice was warning her against it. She listened more, only hearing the rain and the rumble of distant thunder and the wind. She strained to hear the voice again, but it wasn’t there.

“Hello? Who’s there?” She called.

“Little girl,” a chilling voice said behind her.

Brynn turned to see nothing but leaves dancing in the wind, shimmering about, wet. The rain water was coming down diagonally, the clouds blocking out any sunlight, making the afternoon seem like dusk. The second voice did not sound like the first which did not sound like any voice she had ever heard before. Both of the voices sounded especially displeased with her, even though she had no idea how she could possibly have offended any dead thing by just walking to collect her brother.

“Show yourself!” She demanded.

“No!” A third voice shouted back.

And a fourth voice laughed, a cackle that seemed to start at Brynn’s feet and float up in a breeze toward the sky. Brynn could follow it with her ears, but couldn’t see anything but the patterns in the leaves and rain due to the wind. She was especially unnerved, sending a chill down her spine which multiplied how cold she was from being soaked and skinny. It sent a shiver through her bones.

“Brynn,” a familiar voice- Jimmy. Brynn felt relief, even after sensing that Jimmy also seemed afraid. But, if Jimmy was now attached by proximity to J.J., that meant that her brother was again close to her.

“Jimmy, I’m hearing voices in the storm,” Brynn said, continuing to walk, slowly, hoping not to hear the wrath again.

“You’re hearing the storm, Brynn,” Jimmy said, his voice going in and out due to the wind, or maybe the waves. Either or, Brynn had a tough time hearing him.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Brynn’s feet began to get stuck in the sucking mud of the trail and she found it easier to slide her feet, one foot in front of the other, as she walked, creating small valleys of mud behind her as she moved. She reached out, balancing herself against small tree trunks on her right, grasping at whatever she could in order not to slip and fall on her unsteady path.

“Storms aren’t alive.”

“This one is.”

Why did she believe this was Jimmy? She had to wonder. Sure, it sounded like the voice she was used to, but couldn’t anything emulate a voice? If she was really hearing the voices of the dead, perhaps they would have the ability to pretend to be Jimmy, and therefore tricking her to believe anything, if she was really going to allow herself to be gullible to him. Or maybe, she was inventing these voices, and of course she’d be inventing scary sounding voices while she is in a scary situation.

“What do you mean?”

Nothing. No response.

“Jimmy?”

“Yes?”

“How do I know this is really you?”

“Your brother has my finger.”

“Are you guys close?”

“Close enough.”

“What do you mean that this storm is alive?”

“We’re surrounded Brynn. Your brother and I. His men. You. We’re surrounded by spirits that came in with this storm. They are flying all about us. Up in the air, down in the sea. They are riding the winds. Can you hear them cackling? The dead spirits in the storm? I’ve never seen anything like this. They’re stripping the leaves off branches, the branches off trees. They slap the top of the waves, driving salt water into the sailors’ eyes. They’re pushing and pulling at all of us.”

“Jimmy, that’s just the wind.”

“It’s not just the wind! I can see them! You can’t see them?!”

Brynn looked about her, trying to see what he described, trying to see the shapes and people playing with the leaves, pushing the trees to sway, slapping at the waters at the bottom of the cliff, but she saw nothing. She saw what she usually saw, the invisible force of the wind. But, now that such a thing was pointed out to her, she did feel differently. She felt like she was surrounded by things. Brynn tried to keep her wits about her, but she felt now that if she really looked, she’d see the things that Jimmy described, the things that she didn’t want to believe were actually there. But, she didn’t know whether or not they would be real, or just tricks of her mind.

You can imagine anything if you try hard enough.

“Jimmy, you’re scaring me.”

“Brynn, I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Brynn asked, hoping she could logically explain anything he was about to say to her.

“Of the dead things, child,” said something that wasn’t Jimmy. It was a voice with pure venom in it. At the same time it whispered in Brynn’s ear, another something tugged at her hair as the wind blew through it. Brynn felt her head tug back with the pull, and she slipped a little in the wet earth. She stooped down, escaping the grasp, her fingers burying into the mud up to their knuckles. Quickly, she peeled an arrow out of her quiver, retrieved her bow from around her shoulders, loaded her weapon, pulled the bowstring, and focused for anything she could hit.

“Can’t kill the dead,” another voice said, and a cackle went up.

“Brynn,” Jimmy said, his voice also low as Brynn realized she was surrounded by invisible enemies in the storm that would not be killed with any arrow. She blinked away the rain on her eyelashes, feeling like she’d fire an arrow at lightening if it dared flash in front of her now. “This isn’t a typical storm. It’s filled with dark spirits with dark hearts. They’re everywhere as if they were just freed from somewhere. This storm has a goal in mind, Brynn-”

“Your time will come, Brynn…” A spirit said, disappearing.

Brynn, stoic in the mud, her arrow raised toward a rain cloud listened to Jimmy, and her breath, and felt her heart beating in her chest. All she wanted to do was cry in frustration at just wanting to see her brother.

“What do I do, Jimmy?” she whispered into her bowstring.

“Run, Brynn,” Jimmy responded just as a face appeared in the breeze. A face of a skull, but with no hard surfaces. It’s expressions as malleable as a face with skin as it looked at her, smiled, and opened its jaws as if to swallow her whole. Brynn let loose an arrow which seemed to dissipate the spirit, letting it disappear into a misty cloud in the sky. She thought she might have killed whatever it was until she heard a cackling laughter, and Brynn realized that all she had managed to do was lose an arrow out into the sea.

“Run for your brother,” Jimmy howled at the wind, seeming farther than anything else.

Brynn strapped the bow to her back, the string across her chest, and she ran as fast as she could through the sloppy muck.