Ten years had passed since that terrible day; ten whole years. He stands at the grave of his best friend whom he lost to a creek ten years ago today. She's not really there- they never found her body. All they found was a broken rope and a bloody piece of fabric caught in a stone. But nevertheless, she was dead. He had hoped upon hope that maybe the police had it wrong; his best friend couldn't possibly be dead! But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, he knew it had to be true; she was gone.
The police said she had drowned, or hit her head on sharp rocks at the bottom of the creek, or perhaps both. To get across the creek, one must descend down a steep rock face and come back up on the other side which is equally as steep. There was a rope that they used to help them as they crossed. For some unknown reason, the rope broke and she fell. The way she died didn't really matter as much as the fact that she was indeed dead.
A single tear fell, then another, then a few more. Soon he wept aloud; there was none to hear him but the howling wind from the north and the grasshoppers that danced upon the graves of the long-dead war heroes, brides whose lovers left them desolate at the alter, old men and women, and infants who died in birth. She had been his best friend; his only friend at times. He cried for the memories they didn't have the opportunity to make together. He beat his breast because of the pain her death had caused to so any people. She didn't even realize that she touched so many lives in her ten, short years. So he cried. He cried for her, he cried for her family, and he cried for himself. He missed her so greatly! Only one who has felt the same loss (Or one of equal value) could understand the intensity of his heartache. No one else could fathom it.
It had been-how could it be - ten years already! He could remember them playing in the woods behind his house as if it were only yesterday. He remembered how she created a magical, make-believe land across the creek and through his father's field. They called it Terabithia. It was a beautiful, luscious land of mountains, rivers, plains, valleys, and an ocean on the Eastern coast. The creatures were, for lack of a better word (for they were truly indescribable), amazing. There were giant trolls and little dwarfish creatures called Terabithians. Nearly all of the fish were as clear as the water through which they swam, and in the caves in the far west were dragons. No one had seen them and lived to tell the story, but all knew that they existed. The sea was filled with the largest creatures- larger than the largest troll. There weren't any unicorns or mermaids like in the fantasy stories that children read. These creatures were not of the normal fairytale variety. These creatures were created by the mind of a ten-year-old girl named Leslie Burke.
Leslie was a talented writer and her best friend, Jesse Aarons, was a budding artist. Together they created the world of Terabithia. Jesse is now grown. He is an art teacher at the school he once attended himself. He strives to help Leslie's legacy live on by teaching children to use their imaginations. Jesse helped raise the funds necessary to build a new art center at the school and named it after Leslie. Today it is the Leslie Burke Center for Visual and Performing Arts. Leslie was a writer. She could dream a story, and then make it come alive in one's mind. She, though she herself would never claim it, was queen of Terabithia, and Jesse was king.
After Leslie's death, Jesse left behind his dreams and his wonderful land; it was as dead to him as she was. That is, until his sister, Maybelle, who was seven at the time, found a drawing of Terabithia in one of Jesse's sketch books and asked what it was. She thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Jesse realized that he could not let Terabithia die simply because her queen had. No one could replace Leslie, but a new ruler was needed. So Jesse built a bridge over the creek so they could both pass safely over it and within a few moths, Terabithia had a princess. Princess Maybelle reigned well in Leslie and Jesse's absence. After high school, Jess relinquished his claim to the throne and gave all to Maybelle; she would rule Terabithia alone. Maybelle grew up to be a kind-hearted girl who is loved by many because of her tenderness and the love she has for all people and things. She is truly a princess.
He laid the bouquet of lilies beside the grave and started his truck. Today is the day he finally returns. Today is the day he goes back to the place of his youth; the place where he was most happy. It is finally time for him to come back to the place where his dreams, and nightmares, became a reality. He will return to Terabithia.
He arrived at his childhood home at the perfect time: 1:00 P.M. There was no one at home to disturb his mission. His older sisters had grown up and moved away long ago, and there were only two children remaining in the household with his parents; His sister, Maybelle, who is sixteen and his sister, Joyce, who is twelve. Jesse ran with all his might through the field, across the bridge that he had built over the creek. He ran his hands over the ivy-covered railings; he could feel the air of Terabithia begin to envelope him in its nearly magical fragrance. He climbed the ladder to the tree house-no,-castle where he had spent many days drawing, playing, and defeating an unknown dark force. He stepped onto the outside porch, the balcony, and breathed in the air. Something was wrong. The air felt as it had before Leslie died. It felt light and happy; sweet and calm and more at rest than it had in ten years! "Why does the land smile? Why does the wind laugh? Why don't you mourn your queen, O Terabithia, on this, the tenth year of her departure? Must you mock her memory thus? Would you be so cruel as to forget her?" He exclaimed. He saw no person, but he knew that they heard, for the wind carried his words from the Eastern Ocean to the western plains to the southern desert to the northern mountains. All of Terabithia heard him, for to them, he was still king.
He pushed aside the purple curtains and went inside the palace. It was just as it had always been. There were roughly-carved chairs along with a crude table in the corner; the royal banquet hall. On the walls were pictures; drawings made by Jess and some by Maybelle. Leaves lay on the table beside a few books; some for drawing, and some for writing. Sticks were hanging by hooks on a wall; these were the swords which Jesse, Knight of Locust's Sting and Leslie, Knight of Troll's Foot defeated the darkness and the evil forces that once ran rampant through Terabithia, imprisoning its citizens. The hammock was propped up with sticks on either side and a sleeping girl was lying inside.
Jess, with a confused expression on his face, walked up to the girl and knelt down on his knees beside her. He studied her face; she was smiling in her slumber and she looked peaceful and almost like- Oh! His breathe caught in his throat as he realized that the sleeping girl looked almost exactly like Lilly, but older. She had long, blonde hair and she looked to be about twenty years old; the same age as him. It was only then that he had the thought to wake her.