"It's fake, Martha," he said for the hundredth time.
"Dear, of course they told you that. It's to test you."
They were in Martha's kitchen, the tower visible through the window, the lie at its summit glowing for all to see.
"I didn't even find the stone. I didn't even have it when I went to the tower."
She didn't seem to be listening.
"Martha, if I didn't find the stone then how could I have restored it?"
She smiled at him.
"That's the magic of it," she told him.
He stared at her for a long moment, the clock ticking in the silence. Then he stood up, left the room and bounded up the stairs. He threw his things into his backpack and took the stairs down two at a time. Martha was at the bottom of the staircase, a worried look on her face.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Home."
"But you said two weeks."
"That was before I knew you were delusional."
He threw the door open and marched out. Her pleading and protests followed him down the street, gradually fading behind. He left through the city gates and followed the road toward the horizon. Finally he reached the gates to Fairyland, and as he slipped through without a backward glance his heart was heavy but his feet had never been lighter.
YOU ARE READING
The Verities
Short StoryMax returns to his childhood home, to find that not all was ever as it had seemed.
