Blakeshire (15 page)

After the tingling sensation of the purple haze passed over us, I found myself standing at a crossroads. In every direction, there were mountains and rolling hills.

“Crossroads. Oh, the irony,” I said with a shy smile.

I heard him laugh as he adjusted his grip on my hand. “The real irony is that I made that passage.”

“You made it?”

He nodded once. “Storms in the string were insane when I first traveled through them. My father could sense them long before they ever manifested. He had us turn back as he felt one coming that first time in here. We weren’t fast enough, though. Right as it approached, he covered my body with his as I struggled to pull him to that passage. He fought with me, but the wave of energy forced us through.”

“Why didn’t he want to come in here?”

“He couldn’t see it. He thought we were walking into the wall of the string, that we would be burned alive and my mother would pay the price for that.”

“Was this the brighter passage you could see, or the dimmer one?”

He furrowed his brow, questioning why I assumed that he was taking me to one or the other. It was just a lucky guess. I mean, I doubt he would have mentioned it unless that was in his plans. “The dim one. But you see, my father believes in following signs. He thought because the storm came out of nowhere and I found this passage that it was connected to me. That the universe wanted me to have this anchor.”

“Well, you are kind of at a crossroads, so maybe he had a point.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured as he tenderly pulled my hand and encouraged me to walk forward.

The road had a sharp curve just ahead that led around a massive hill. I kept my stare on the horizon. Even though the mountain was sharp and looked daring, there were colors of lush green and random wildflowers. Danger alongside of beauty.

I assumed that this was nothing more than a walk through nature and was cool with that, but I was so wrong. Right as the road turned, a town came into view. Not an ordinary town; one glance easily showed how eccentric every building was. They were all random colors that ranged from rust to vibrant shades of blue, green, even purple. Some of the buildings were built into the hills, others stood alone, but the structures were not like the ones at my home. There were no sharp lines, at least not many of them. Some of the buildings looked like waves, others would curve here and there. It was wild to stare at.

The streets were lined with people. They all seemed ordinary enough to me. It was rather cold out, so it was hard to judge the individual personalities under their long jackets. Like us, each of them had a long scarf on; the women wore them on the outside, and the men on the inside.

“This is awesome,” I said as a wide smile came to my face.

“You think?” he asked seriously, judging my expression to see if I were being polite.

“Are you kidding? I feel like I just walked into
Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory
.”

“Who?”

I moved my head from side to side. “We’ve got so many movies to catch you up on.”

I could see him trying to compare the
I Love Lucy
show we watched to this place.

“One day, we’ll watch it. I meant it as a compliment. I swear.”

He must have believed me because he nodded once. “These people, their ancestors anyway, were nomadic, great explorers that moved everything and everyone with them.”

He pointed to a mountain ridge around the town. “There is a dark forest that is nearly impossible to pass through on the other side of that range. Once they reached the mountaintop and found their way to the valley, they lost the urge to move on. They were in love with the land; everything was in abundance, at least for the small of amount of them that were there at the time.”

We had reach the beginning of the town, and now I could see that the reason the buildings looked so odd at a distance was that they were not complete, or they looked like they were in progress. Parts of them would be in detail, where others were still rough-hewn stone.

Seeing how mesmerized I was, he went on. “The early records state that as soon as they set up camp all illness left them; even little cuts or bruises from their travels healed instantly. Youth and vitality was felt in every soul. All at once, instead of looking for land that would perfectly fit them they started to look for their soul, a soul that would fit their vessel perfectly.”

“I could so analyze that history for hours.”

All along the sidewalk, there were little shops or chairs set up; some were artists, others poets, and some were of arts and crafts. Musicians were here and there with crowds around them. The alluring smell of something divine was in the air.

There was something else along the sidewalk, too: what looked like a statue of a woman playing a fiddle was halfway in the ground and half above.

“That is kind of suffocating,” I said to myself as my mind rushed back to the dream I had, that feeling of sinking, a thick muscle tightening around me.

“It’s meant to be liberating,” he said as he watched me take in the detail of the halfway-buried statue. “There are seasons of heavy rain here. The first one the settlers lived through was dramatic.”

I glanced to the mountains over the buildings. “Flooding?”

“Nothing serious. What was so dramatic was that as the rain washed down the hills, homes were discovered. They realized they were not the first to find this place.”

“Like a lost city?”

“That was what they assumed, but there were no bodies or anything to date the old city. Before long, they realized that the buildings were reflecting their inner desire, creating what was on the inside on the outside.”

“You’re joking.”

“That is the myth of their history. It’s a bit altered today. The early settlers became deeply spiritual, connected to their inner selves. A lot of them became seers.”

“Like what I can do?” I asked as I found myself listening for the ghostly whispers that followed me in every dimension, with the exception of Chara. I heard none here, which led me to believe that strife was not something the souls here died with.

“They saw the future. Some only saw moments before; others, decades in the future.”

“Well, that kinda takes the excitement out of living, now doesn’t it?” I quipped. You would think with all the hell that was surrounding me, I would want to know where it ends—but for me, the paths of discovery are more valuable than the end result.

“They were wise with that insight. They never spoke of what they saw. Later, as time moved forward the elderly were always present at the birth of new souls. They witnessed their first sleep, then later just as the child turned two they would present the family with a structure or sculpture like this one,” he said, nodding to the woman that I was yearning to chisel free from the sidewalk.

“With each wet season, the structure would erode away; how quickly or slowly it eroded was symbolic of the child’s inner journey. It is said that at the end of the life, if that life was lived to its fullest potential, the structure would be completely revealed and that soul’s mark on the Earth would be in place.”

“What happens if something happens before they complete their path, like an accident or something?”

His dark eyes stared into mine for a moment before he answered. “They don’t believe in accidents. Everything is manifested by the souls that live the lives.”

He pulled me farther down the street; just as the street divided, he led me down a vast alleyway where flowers were placed in golden pots. They almost looked like they were marking a memorial.

For no reason at all, I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I was lightheaded, and that was not making the random flashes and echoes of voices I thought I was hearing any clearer.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he ducked his head so he was eye level with me.

“A lot of energy here,” I said under my breath as I sorted out the emotions of this place; they were a mix of bliss and grief.

I glanced to the building beside us, which was four stories high. Waves and odd angles created the outer layer. The male image that was sculpted on the side was insane. His head was at the top, and his body reached all the way to the street level. At the top, the image looked like a bold leader, but as more of the stone was uncovered you could see other images connecting to this one; women, children. There were staffs in their hands, instruments at their sides, canvases here and there, even scenes of nature.

I swear I could hear this carving. It wasn’t like the sinister whispers I had always fought with; it was more like echoes…of life.

“This is one of the oldest and also one of my favorites,” Drake said as he gazed up at the stone. “When it was first eroded, it looked as if the man would stand high above, be a great, distant leader, but with each rain season his image began to connect to others.” He glanced at me. “His lover, his children, his friends, their talents and their paths merged into his. In the end, the sculpture showed that this great leader was nothing without the souls that stood
with
him, not beneath him. Though he did not carry the gift of a creative spirit, he carried the foresight to see that energy in others. He was a motivator, and because of his life, gifts in others were brought forth.”

“It speaks deeply,” I murmured, staring at all the details that were absent at first glance and smiling when I heard the victories of their voices in my mind.

“It teaches with what it speaks. It states that what is first seen is not the entire story—it shows how no life is solitary. This mural was created for one of the founding fathers of this town, the first conception and birth on this land.”

He took my hand. “Forgive me,” he said just before he held my hand against the stone.

As soon as my flesh met that cold stone, a jolt of energy shocked my very being. They were no longer echoes, but fast moving movies in my mind. It was like reading a thousand novels in a matter of seconds; every emotion was mine, every loss, every win, every love—I felt it all.

With utter care, he pulled my hand from the stone. “You do see them.”

“Was that a test?” I said with a gasp, feeling even more lightheaded. It was almost like when my hand was against the stone, I had the power of all those lost lives within me, and now I was standing alone.

“A test that I was given by these people.”

“You see them, too?”

His stare grew grave. “All too well.”

He moved his gaze to the opposite wall as he nodded for me to follow him.

It was nearly solid. It looked like any other brick wall, but at the very top you could see an image of a man, but you could only see to the point of his chin. “This was his son,” Drake said so quietly that I barely heard him.

“Well, isn’t he over here, too?” I asked, pointing to one of the children on the eccentric wall.

“In some way. But that was his father’s story. His father gave him everything he needed to create inner peace, but the son refused to grasp it. He sought modern revolutions. He wanted to traverse the forest and bring sick souls here so they would be healed…he wanted to traverse the universe and find more places such as this, create more places such as this.”

“Seems valiant enough.”

“True, but before you can help others you have to discover your path.” He glanced down at me. “Great leaders are never perfect souls. They are imperfect souls who found balance with that resolution. This son was too outwardly focused, and because he was
, he left his family traveled into the forest, and was never seen again. No matter how much it rains, the structure remains untouched.”

“Can I hear him?” I asked in a ghost of a whisper.

“One could only hope.”

He made no effort to pull my hand to the stone; he wanted it to be my choice.

For no reason, my hand trembled as I reached for the wall. The emotion of fear may not have been surfacing in my mind, but it was as if my soul could still comprehend that emotion and wanted to heed a warning.

Inches before my hand reached that stone, what looked like sand, a mix of black and golden sand, reached for me and pulled me closer.

My mind went haywire, hearing whispers of lovers, laughter of lovers, seeing stolen moments and lost dreams. There was a beginning here, a powerful one, but the end was unwritten, undiscovered, stopped before its time.

I could swear I could see the string itself, a dark world emerging, a mistaken identity. I could not see past that point, but I felt the heavy weight of loss. I felt the regret, the hope to return to the bliss of this foundation
, swarm through me. It all felt so real, so familiar to me. I felt the urge to cry, even though I had no personal emotion to call that action forth.

“Lost lovers,” I whispered to myself.

I saw Drake tense from the corner of my eye. Disbelief absorbed him, then faded into what could only be hope.

“Lovers can never truly be lost,” he said as he reached for my hand. That energy that mocked black sand laced around our hands for a brief instant before it vanished, and nothing more than a silent wall stood before me.

“It’s a massive wall,” I murmured as I looked at the length of it.