Allyra dropped wearily onto the warm rock, almost too tired to take in the magnificent view before her. Memories were clamoring for her attention, bouncing around her head like a bee trapped in a glass jar. Not her own memories – nothing she’d experienced herself – rather, they were the memories of this place, the things that had happened here.
At least, that was what she believed them to be.
It happened to be a point of significant contention, this ability of hers.
Ability – that was her word for it. Not because it was something she treasured or because she thought herself special. In fact, given the choice, she would’ve preferred to be without this particular source of conflict. Simply, she’d chosen the word for lack of a better one.
It was an intrinsic part of her. She couldn’t remember a time before. She’d always been able to walk into an empty room, and know unerringly where the furniture had been placed, the people who had lived there, even the pets they’d owned.
She could feel the joy of a place – bright and shining, like glittering jewels on a necklace.
Or she’d feel the pain that lingered – dark and bitter like thick coffee.
After many long years of thinking she might be losing her mind, Allyra had finally concluded that her ability was an affinity for the past. She was able to experience the history that remained in a place, soaked into the very stone and mortar. But of course, that was only her take on things. Jamie, on the other hand, believed that they were no more than the result of an overactive imagination and best left ignored.
Whichever version being true, her ability was nonetheless the reason why she was here. Again. On the twenty-first of September, in this place of horrors where she believed her father had died.
This place had always reeked of death, as dark and suffocating as a thick winter blanket.
The sense of foreboding had intensified with every step up the climb and here at the summit; Allyra could barely control the tremor that ran through her entire body. And despite the heat still rising off the sun baked rock, a shiver worked its way up her spine. She could taste the metallic tang of blood on her tongue and feel the icy chill soaking into her bones.
She made this climb every year – always on the anniversary of her father’s death. But this trip was different to every one that had come before it.
It was the first without Jamie.
She’d never been able to decide if she liked having Jamie on this trip. It was like walking next to a six-foot manifestation of absolute disapproval. But without his comforting presence, the shadows seemed to draw closer and she’d finally started to question this particular obsession.
After all, there was nothing like a one thousand odd kilometer drive, followed by a day long trek – alone – to make a person rethink their choices in life.
Jamie had always thought this was a bad idea and he’d never made much effort to hide his feelings on the subject. It was a yearly ritual for him to try to stop her from coming – reasoning, cajoling, begging, and as a last resort, threatening not to come. Yet she’d always been able to depend on Jamie relenting at the last minute. That his love for her would outweigh any misgivings he had about the trip. But every person has a limit, and apparently Jamie had reached his.
Obsessions were cruel and spiky things. Once they’d forced their way in, they didn’t easily let go, but Allyra had come to a slow decision. This would be the final year of madness. The final time she’d make this pilgrimage. Never again would she wake up on the twenty-first of September and think of it as the anniversary of her father’s death. After today, the twenty-first of September would dawn as nothing more than just another day.
This would be her final goodbye.
Allyra shivered again as the sun dropped further from view. She dug into the dark depths of her backpack, fumbling around, finding and discarding various objects. A victorious grin spread across her face as her hand finally reemerged clutching an energy bar. Taking a bite, she savored the almost sickening sweetness as she continued her exploration of her backpack.
Ten minutes later, the energy bar was no more than a distant memory and the contents of her backpack were scattered around her – a half empty water bottle, a jacket she’d shrugged on, hand sanitizer, an assortment of pens that always seemed to follow her everywhere and finally, a rather sad looking apple.
She was still hungry, though not enough to make the apple appear appealing. She peered into the empty depths of the backpack – with hopeful optimism – but there was no sign of the flashlight she was looking for.
Allyra rolled her eyes as she imagined the offending item snuggled comfortably somewhere back home. Packing was usually Jamie’s domain and without his practical organizational skills, she was not only running horribly late, but also missing the one thing that might make the return journey a little easier. She would be descending in the dark, and she’d be doing it without a source of light. It was going to be… Interesting.
The sun set with typically African abruptness. Its fiery light was replaced by the pale translucent glow of the full moon, parting the darkness gently, apologetically.
But Allyra wasn’t ready to leave yet. Now that she was here, she owed it to herself to at least try to come up with some answers.
She closed her eyes and tried to focus, allowing the memories and ghosts to draw closer. But her mind refused to cooperate. It was still too cluttered, tangential thoughts flashing off in multiple directions. She hissed a curse through her teeth and then realized there was no one to tell her off or even hear her, so she cursed again, loudly and far more satisfyingly.
Taking
