I was raised in a dark place; a
place of shadows and death. A place where crows roamed the skies, soaring
overhead, watching us all like prey... and prey we were. Humans had lived in
the Valley of Feathers for centuries, along with the crows, but over time
things began to change. The river that separated our part of the valley from
the crows’ had run dry; all life had been stripped from it. Our people simply
began living off the vegetation alone, but the crows were blood thirsty… we
knew we were next.
As a child my mother would always tell me this one tale. It was about a
place that existed between the sky and the sea; a place where the horizon
wasn’t just the mingling of two blues but so much more. It was a place where
you could live a peaceful life; a life that ended in a ‘happily ever after.’
This fairytale was told to me every night from my mother’s lips, softly into my
ear, and I’m pretty sure it’s what kept us going. It gave us something almost non-existent
in that hell; hope.
Every morning I woke in the hope that my mother’s fairytale had become
reality overnight, and every morning I was disappointed. It would hurt me; chip
away at my fragile innocence, but all I had to do is look over at my mother and
see her smile and I felt no pain. I’d rarely see my father; he had to spend
each day gathering food like the rest of the men in the valley. He was
basically living my future, the one I would reach on the 5,844th day of my
life… the one I didn’t want.
Time passed on and, as it did, my childhood grew closer to its end, but
mother kept me in high spirits. She’d tell me I’d always be a child in her
eyes, and that was good enough for me. It sounds ridiculous, but I didn’t want
to become an adult there. I didn’t want to enter the longest chapter of my life
in a place where it could end up being the shortest. As long as there was
someone else to tell me I was still a child I could live my life believing I’d
never turned the page to the ending.
123 days to go and the cold harsh reality of my home place came knocking
on my door. I learnt that life is not permanent, and neither is joy. You see,
sometimes, it is the undeserving who die. It is the wicked who come out the
other end, it is the crows who decide who keeps breathing, and it was on that
day that my mother’s heart stopped beating. Her eyes stopped seeing, her skin
lost its warmth, and I lost hope. I had to get away from this place. I knew it
meant leaving my father, but I couldn’t stay. I had to try and be happy… for
her.
I had 122 days to find joy. I tried to explain things to my father but
he didn’t understand, and I didn’t expect him to; he had just lost his wife and
now his son was packing his bags to go on what seemed like a suicidal
excursion. Despite this, he wished me good luck, told me he loved me, and we
said our goodbyes. I walked out our front door that night with tears in my
eyes; not because I was leaving my father but because he was leaving me. I
knew, somehow, that I was not the only one about to embark on a journey of some
sort that night. I had chosen to find joy, and so had father; but unlike me, he
knew where he was going. He was going to be with mother.
It was hard, but I had to try not to think about my parents. There was
nothing I could do, all that was left for me was this journey of my own, and I
had to be wary; ready for anything. The crows were watching. I couldn’t see
them, but I knew they were everywhere. They blended in to the night sky, the
darkness was their ally. I walked along through the valley, heading north. Why?
I had no idea. What was my plan? Apart from leaving the Valley of Feathers, I
had none. I had decided if I got that far, I was doing well. I kept walking and
suddenly it wasn’t looking like there’d be any need for further planning. I
could hear them now, their clamorous wings getting closer and closer… and then
I heard silence.
Instinct had taken over, adrenaline pumped through my veins. I began to
run. All thoughts vanished for a while; my senses seemed to shut down. I heard
nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing; I looked ahead, and continued to run for
my life. Trees seemed to sprout up out of thin air. They blocked my path so
skilfully… almost as though they were alive. I had no idea as to how far the
crows were behind me, I didn’t dare look anywhere but ahead. They had to be
close though; they had to catch me soon. I was just waiting now for a long
yellow beak to clamp down on one of my legs, to snap my bones in two, to render
me paralyzed; to end my life… and then within seconds, there was nothing but
white. The crows had won.
I regained consciousness, but I was afraid to open my eyes. Where was I?
Was I dead or alive? Had the crows won in the end after all? There was only one
way to find out. I slowly tried to lift my eyelids, but it hurt. I tried again…
still painful. What was happening?! I took a deep breath and tried one last
time… There was light. I saw the sun, the clouds, the blue of the sky; I saw
grass, green grass, and flowers of every colour imaginable. I thought this was
it, my final resting place, but I looked around me and came to a different
conclusion, for there it was… there was the valley; and here I was… outside it.
How long had I been here? It could have been hours, days… even weeks. I
was still a child, but how long had I left? This place was beautiful, but I
couldn’t stay here forever. I needed to keep moving. Looking around, there
seemed to be an endless number of paths to take, an infinite amount of choices,
but suddenly, I had made up my mind.
I got up and ran, only this time, I was not running away from something,
I was running to it. My journey had come to an end, I had found my source of
joy; I had found the sea. Down the hill I went, through the grass; past where
it met the stones, past where they met the sand, past where the sand met the
waves… now to the horizon. I had left darkness; time to reach day 5,844… time
to live my happily ever after.
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