'The power you hold is not evil, its warmth and light will protect those who need it most. Remember that the sun is watching over you always.' Out of the black ink of my dream, a figure illuminated by the blinding sun dwindles back into the darkness from which they came.
These words are the first memory that I hold of the world; unwavering, returning to me in times where I am struggling most. Nestled deep in the caring arms of another. This stranger spoke words of strange wisdom, to a child who could not understand their weight. I do not remember a face, name or what they meant to me. The last traces of their existence; continued to live on in my memory alone.
However, I can no longer ignore how wrong they were about me, and what I could bring forth onto the world.
⁂
Spluttering as I rose from my sleep, smoke seeped deep into my lungs. I came to realise that the landscape around me was ashen, silent. Glowing embers drifted along the morning breeze, carrying a deathly smog. A bold sunrise fought to break over the horizon with all its might; a new day had begun.
The world from up on this lonely hill seemed small, pointless. I raked my eyes over the staff quarters, once a large and active building. Budding with the chatter of seasonal workers; was now nothing more than a miserable crater. Sinking deep into the parched earth. The stables nearby in the same condition, surrounding paddock equally blackened and twisted.
Nevertheless, the dreaded farmhouse, the prized jewel of the Edmonds' still stood in disobedience.
My teeth ground against one another in an embedded rage, smothered by the haze of thoughts which clouded my mind. I delved for anything clear.
Fingers clawing at the dirt in frustration; how could I be so stupid?
How could I have missed the most important part of the plan? The nights past was filled with only flame and smoke. Amongst the blaze I stumbled up here to breathe, watching the anarchy unfold like a disconnected ghost, but only for a moment. Then everything faded into the black of the sky.
Now, I had lost too much time.
You see, this plan I had created, it could not fail. If I wanted to be free of this life, chaos, and all. That house had to burn.
A lighter in my back pocket jabbed at my skin angrily. Half-emptied canister of stolen fuel at my feet. These were the tools of my abominable trade, and they were all I would ever need. Because there still had to be a sliver of time left in my favour. God, anything, had to be in my favour today.
I was owed this more than anything.
The empty wind carried no sirens, or chatter of a crowd, no life but me out here.
Yes, I can still accomplish this plan, because today I am someone new. The old me, innocent and naïve had to be buried here on this peak. My body was reanimated, reborn. So, I began crawling from my grave, down the slope towards the house.
Hesitation in my step followed. Madness buried under a heavy layer of repressed memories. Mind's eye struggling to piece it all together. I had to remember, what led me here. To today.
Days gone past, my life itself, could be described as a series of misfortunes and heartbreaks from its beginning. All starting with a simple noun.
Tristan. Why that name? Does fate itself decide your name before you're born? Does its meaning decide your destiny before you've taken your first breath? The idea of being called after a knight, a hero, never sat quite right. I preferred the French meaning; sorrowful. This alternative meaning: described how I was bought into the world well.
YOU ARE READING
When the Sun Sets on You
Fiction générale'Remember that the sun is watching over you always.' From the view of a grassy hill, Tristan Edmond looks down the end of his life as he knows it. Labeled as a dangerous arsonist, with little to no choice, Tristan is shipped off to Lone Pine. A Ther...
