AllyahHabitica01-28-2021

Written by: Allyah

Finish the Story - Marcus could hear the horn sound in the distance, a sign he was getting closer to the island. Soon he would be face to face with the father he left behind ten years ago. Every day since he left, he had made a mental list of all the things he wanted to say when he returned, but now only one thing came to mind. He would…

have to turn around. The pit in his stomach had been growing and his insides churning since they’d left the mainland. ''I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t…'' The boat came to a crawl as the captain swung the boat to the side for the only other crew member to knot the ropes to the dock.

He stared at the small strip of businesses close to the dock then further back and up the hills to the sparse, scattered houses. His father wouldn’t be in any of them. His house would be further back, hidden in the dense forest as far away from anyone as he could get. And he certainly wouldn’t be making the rounds to his friends any neighbors since he didn’t really have either.

After staring a moment more while wrestling with the urge to ask the captain to simply take him back, he slowly walked to the edge of the dock and hoisted himself up, ignoring the pain in his knees that had been getting increasingly worse since he’d gone over the hill. It wouldn’t be long before the pain turned to mere nuisance to an actual hindrance. He remembered watching his father’s own slight limp and, even more potently, that he had never bothered asking how he got it. It wouldn’t have made a difference.

He ignored the people as he walked briskly through the town and started ascending the hill hoping to avoid the gaze of anyone who might recognize him and attempt to start what would inevitably be a lengthy conversation about where he had been and his life since he left. No one would bother asking why he left. They would assume, and be partially correct, that it was why anyone left this island: lack of any opportunity to do more than just exist.

He walked one mile, then another along the twisting path that would lead to the small log cottage overlooking the steep drop to the ocean below. As his anxiety grew, so did his pace and the number of times he misplaced his feet resulting in the last 20 minutes of the climb being a constant battle between his balance and the rocks and tree roots littered everywhere. I could have run up and down this path without missing a beat when I was a kid.

Finally, the trees opened up to a small clearing just big enough for the two-room cabin standing unassumingly against the backdrop of the cliff. At this time of day, his dad would be in the cabin whittling away at a chunk of wood. It was too late for anything else. His dad’s mastery in his craft had always been a source of envy for him but Marcus never had the patience to learn and his father never had the patience for Marcus.

He opened the door and stared into the dark room towards the table where his dad would sit for hours crafting whatever struck his fancy, sometimes unable to tell his son what he was making until he was halfway through the process. His dad didn’t look up at his entrance. Marcus slowly strode towards the chair. As he got closer, he realized that the image of his father had been a memory. All that was on the chair now was an old, tattered coat casting a shadow.

His mind went toward the last words his father had said after their argument about him leaving. If ya’ leave, there’ll be no need for ya’ comin’ back. A realization struck him. He could go down the mountain and ask the villagers but he already knew what their response would be. He never left the island. He sat down in the chair, placed his intertwined hands on the table, and stared out the picturesque window overlooking the cliff with the steep drop to the water.

Category:Stories from 01-2021

Category:Stories from 2021