Living Again
a/n: Hey! This is my third story. It's Hatchet, obviously. It was a school assignment, after we read Hatchet. And, this is supposed to be like another Epilogue. Hatchet is a good book. Not my favourite. But the plot is good. So, please R&R!
"Hello?" Brian Robeson spoke into the receiver of his dated telephone.
"Hello, Brian!" His enthusiastic mother exclaimed. He groaned quietly
"Hey, Mom..." He replied, hardly interested.
"How are you?" She asked, putting extra emphasis on you 'you'.
"I'm fine." He said, again, hardly interested. It was 9:00 pm, and his mother had been calling him non-stop for the past 12 hours.
"Are you ready?" Clothes all laid out? Everything set?" She began, but was interrupted
"Mom! I'm 29 years old! You don't have to keep checking up on me as if I was a kid!" He scolded.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just excited! My little boy's getting married tomorrow!" His mother cried happily
"As if I didn't know..." He mumbled, annoyed
"Well, I'll go then. Rest up! I don't want you to be tired tomorrow." He could almost hear the smile in her voice.
"OK. Night, Mom."
"Goodnight, Brian. I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Yeah. See you tomorrow." The phone clicked, and the dial tone rung in his ear. He sighed deeply, taking in the realization of the moment. Tomorrow was the start of a new chapter in his life.
Fixing his eyes on the cream colored wall before him, his gaze fell upon his hatchet.
It was now framed. Concealed within a small glass box. The steal blade than one shone, was now rusted at the tips. The color of the wooden handle had fallen to a dark brown. Not the gleaming wood it had once been.
It had been too many years to count, since anyone had spoken of the accident. Yet, not a day went by that he couldn't hear the foolbirds calling to him from the distance. The slender hatchet on his belt. His lean-to and his turtle egg holes in the corner of his eyes. He was surrounded by love and happiness. But there was still a part of him that felt empty. A lonely, cold, scared feeling. Those fifty-four days, so long ago, had scarred him for life. There had been many guidance counselors, many pediatricians, and physiologists over the years. Everyone wanted to help him get over the traumatic events in his past. And it seemed that no one could help him.
No one, that is, until the one girl who had listened. His fiancee. His Lucy.
16 years earlier...
The clouds were gray, the rain was loud. Large drops of water, wetting everything in sight. It seemed as though the weather was reflecting the general feeling of everyone that day.
Sadness.
Brian stood, dressed in black, his parents behind him, on the lightly snow covered ground. It was January, but yet, rain poured from the skies harder than Brian had ever seen in any season.
It was a closed casket funeral. For there was no body to be shown. The deceased lay in a plane, deep in the lake, now food for the other inhabitants there. Brian was a bit dazed. Everyone attending the funeral was in tears, except him. He had not known the pilot of that plane. He didn't even know his name. He only knew that he had been the last person to see the pilot before he died. Now, the image of his rotten face, deformed with countless holes of missing flesh, was now embedded in his mind.
She was at the funeral as well.
He didn't know her then. But he would in time.
Tears were streaming down her pale face. Her deep crimson hair disheveled in a careless mess. She wore a black dress and coat, draping down to her knees. Her faint sobs could be heard through the priest's short speech. Her mother stood beside her, alone, reaching for her daughter's hand, only to have her turn away coldly.
Her father was gone, and he would never be coming back.
The service had finished, and the girl and her mother were walking about the crowd numbly. Shaking hands, and offering small greetings. When they came to Brian only a few words were said,
"Hello. Thank you for coming. I'm sure that my husband would be happy you attended." The late pilot's wife said, in a very rehearsed voice, as if she were a message machine recording. She shook his hand slowly, and walked off, drying her eyes lightly with a small handkerchief.
"Hello. Thank you for coming." She said bluntly, her eyes reflecting all of the sadness trapped in her soul, "I'm sure that my..." She paused, furrowing her eyebrows quizzically at Brian. "I'm sorry. Did you know my father?" She asked him softly, her voice small but sure
"Um... yes. He was the pilot for a plane I was in...once..." He said, not sure how to explain his relationship with the pilot.
"Oh. You must have been in that crash then. I don't think someone my dad flew around once would come to his funeral." She assumed, looking at her feet. Just the sight of her broke Brian's heart. A girl without her father...
"Yeah. Yeah, he was the pilot in the crash..." He stated. There was an aching silence. The girl swallowed back a few tears that threatened to fall. "I-I'm sorry." She looked up, "For... well, for..." She cut him off
"I know what you mean." She said, attempting to smile, but failing. "It's OK."
"Oh. Well, I'm Brian, by the way..." He said, extending his right hand. She took it shakily, actually smiling
"I'm Lucy."
16 years later...
Brian took this time he had alone to go through some of his memories and thoughts. He had made a bit of a scrapbook some time ago. There were all sorts of newspaper clippings loosely taped to the beige colored papers. He gingerly ran his fingers over the old pages, breathing in the musty scent.
His life had changed. When he was small, he had never thought his life would be like this. To this day, he didn't know if that was a bad thing or not. It was just unexpected. After he had been rescued for the woods, the only thing he wanted to do was fly. Fly a plane, be in a plane. Anything. He was obsessed. Brian wanted to prove everyone, but mostly to himself, that everything was alright. Life went on, he supposed. And yet, the lake was forever calling to him in his thoughts and dreams. It was like a primal instinct, he recalled, surging through him like lightning. Grocery stores with mountains of food, pet shops where birds were trapped inside cages didn't seem real. Nothing seemed real. He belonged in the forest. In that forest.
About five years after the accident, he began to live again. At 18, he needed to decide what lie ahead for him. And, as if he had known what to do his entire life, he went to flight school. It was so natural. The open air made him feel so alive. Like he was living only to see sunny days. Never again did he feel unsure or awkward. This was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Finally, this were falling into place. Still, a piece of him longed to be back at the lake. But not like before. One day, he knew, he would fly his family to that very spot. Looking back from a distance, knowing that he could leave any time he wanted to. Nothing worried his mind or heart.
But, deep in the back of his mind, still unknown to everyone else, even after sixteen years,
The Secret.
a/n: Intense! Haha, so review please!
-LittleLotte