Voices in the Mirror

by Ross Turner

  Eventually, after several days and nights of travel, he reached the very spot upon which the village would someday be built, and for some reason, nobody quite knows what, he decided to stop searching.

  Whatever it was he had been looking for, perhaps he had found it here?

  Nobody really knew, even to this day.

  He had seen rivers in their beginnings, starting life as bubbling brooks, and over time and distance they grew and widened and aged.

  And then he knew what he had to do.

  He knew it was time for him to settle.

  Following that, as if it were an act of fate even, others were drawn to him and to the place he had decided to cease his endless wanderings. These people that joined him were wanderers and travellers alike, and all united with him in his conquest to construct their new home, still rushing in its very beginnings.

  And thus, henceforth, that place upon the river where they decided to create their new lives, became known as Riverbrook.

  It was said that one of the wanderers that joined him was a beautiful woman from the south, with deep blue eyes and flowing golden hair, and within a year they were wed and started a family.

  Something distracted Johnathan from his daydreaming then and he looked up in a blurry daze.

  By now they were sat in class and Miss Falcon was delivering to them what was undoubtedly a riveting English lesson, explaining the subtle differences between nouns and pronouns and verbs and adjectives, or something to that effect, Johnathan guessed.

  For some reason, even more than usual, he felt very distracted.

  He glanced across the room looking for his sister, for Miss Falcon had, quite rightly, had the foresight to separate them. Scanning his gaze quickly across the tiny pond of twenty or so children, many of them siblings too, it took Johnathan mere seconds to catch Maddie’s eye.

  She smiled as she saw him looking and pulled a face, sticking her tongue out at him across the classroom, though keeping her silliness discreet so that Miss Falcon didn’t see.

  The two of them were exceedingly well versed in this game, for they played it on a daily basis, and without a second thought Johnathan checked quickly to see if Miss Falcon was looking, and returned the gesture with an equally ridiculous expression.

  And so class continued, though exactly how far they delved into the disorienting depths of the English language Johnathan had no idea, for he spent the vast majority of it either daydreaming when Miss Falcon swept her fierce gaze across the class, or entertaining his younger sister whilst her back was turned.

  Later that day, once Miss Falcon’s English class had concluded and finished evading young Johnathan’s attention, he found himself, as always, spending time during break together with his sister Maddie.

  The day was wearing on slowly and though it was warm and the sky was for the most part blue, it was broken here and there in patches by cloud, drifting by above silently and forever undisturbed. A light wind carried them overhead and rustled the trees and the plants and the grass all about, and Johnathan and Maddie sat together upon a small grassy embankment, sprawled out on the floor.

  On first glance it looked as though the brother and sister had not a care in the world. However, upon closer inspection, it was clear that their efforts were bent entirely to the task of depicting as many different shapes and animals as they could in the clouds floating along above them.

  All about the pair, other siblings did their best to ignore each other, playing with friends their own age, each in their own little groups, as children do, segregating themselves from each other, even unintentionally singling some out, whilst glorifying others.

  Such is their fickle nature.

  Stood across the other side of the oval of grass that was the school’s play area, stood Miss Falcon, forever watchful, overseeing all the children. By her side was Mrs Burrows, Maddie’s old teacher from before.

  She taught the younger class in the school, and was exactly the opposite of Miss Falcon in every way, shape, and form, to such an extent that Johnathan found it quite amusing.

  Mrs Burrows was married, and she was shorter and younger and had a very womanly figure, much more pleasing to the eye than Miss Falcon’s, with a heaving bosom and rosy cheeks. Her lips were always raised by a smile and she was very kind natured.

  Her softly, softly approach meant that she was in no doubt the favourite teacher out of the two. Though she was quiet, she could certainly test the octaves when she needed to, and all knew not to push her too far.

  Everybody has a fuse after all.

  Nonetheless though, she had dark hair cut to her shoulders, lovely green eyes, a little girl of her own of only seven years old, and, of course, as you would expect, it was extremely difficult for anybody not to like her.

  Suddenly then, casting a quick and instinctive glance down from the clouds above him, Johnathan swept his eyes over a group of boys stood only six feet or so from where he and Maddie were sprawled on the grass. His gaze told him very little, but an instinctive niggle at the back of him mind warned him that trouble was coming.

  It is a very useful sixth sense that some fortunate people are able to develop.

  Sure enough, within only seconds, drawn from their original conversation by nothing in particular, or perhaps simply by the childish human joy of domination, the boy leading the group jerked his head almost unnoticeably towards Johnathan and Maddie, and they all followed him over.

  Johnathan sighed under his breath and clasped his hand gently around Maddie’s arm, standing as he did so, drawing her attention to what was about to happen, for she had not yet developed that sixth sense, and she rose quickly to her feet also.

  “Playing with girls again Davies?” The boy leading the group immediately jested. It was a childish quip, but Johnathan had expected little else. He’d had trouble from this boy before.

  He was at least a few years older than Johnathan, which at that age made an enormous difference.

  His name was Brock and he was the son of Riverbrook’s metalworker and carpenter. His father was very gifted at his trade and had the strength to work with any material. And so, naturally, Brock too was built broadly and with an intimidating amount of strength and weight, easily almost twice Johnathan’s size.

  “Yes, Brock.” Johnathan replied dismissively. “I’m sitting with my sister.” His tone however, though not confrontational in the slightest, only served to infuriate the brute.

  “Oh, so you don’t mind everybody thinking you’re a girl too then?” The bully mocked again, trying to entice a response. His apparently clever remark stirred a few sniggers from his throng in tow, feeding his ego ever further.

  He wasn’t rewarded however, and Johnathan’s clearly indifferent attitude just riled him more.

  “No, Brock.” Johnathan replied, looking up at the brute stood before him with an expression painted across his young face that vaguely resembled boredom.

  Brock was practically a whole foot taller, and at least a foot wider than Johnathan.

  Brock had no quick witted reply and he hesitated for a moment. Johnathan seized the opportunity immediately and steered Maddie away, heading for biggest and closest crowd of children he could see.

  Brock recovered however, just quickly enough to save face in front of his followers, and threw one final, desperate remark after Johnathan, his power as a bully reduced to rubble without a response.

  “Just going to run and hide with your geeky sister are you then!?” He called after them, not even really expecting a reply himself.

  But something made Johnathan stop then, and he turned slowly back to face Brock, keeping Maddie behind him, his stance protective.

  “What?” He breathed at the brute before him, his gaze levelling.

  “Oh, didn’t you hear?” Brock teased immediately, knowing in that second he had an opening. “Do you have to hide the nerd in the crowd? That’s a shame you know…”

  At that point Johnathan felt something welling up inside of him, bu
t he didn’t move for a moment, besides slowly clenching and unclenching his fists.

  “She’s not that bad you have to hide her away you know…” Brock continued, successfully driving Johnathan’s rage even deeper.

  It was almost as if a blinding veil descended over Johnathan then, covering his vision and his thoughts. He felt in one moment completely in control, and then in the next, as if his body wasn’t even his own: as if another presence was engulfing him almost entirely.

  “She’s not that ugly …I know she’s not the best but…”

  But Brock didn’t even get chance to finish that sentence, for in that moment Johnathan saw nothing but red.

  It swept across his vision in an instant like an invisible blindfold, and all of a sudden his movements were no longer his own.

  His body lunged forwards for the bully, arms outstretched and fingers clawing for Brock’s throat.

  Johnathan was barely even half Brock’s size, charging forwards with what looked like not a hope in hell. The bully smiled a wicked, victorious grin, and grabbed Johnathan’s wrists as he darted forwards, halting him in his tracks. He was all too happy to swat him down with ease and make a fool out of him as he defended his sister, asserting his own dominance.

  After all, what else do bullies want?

  But in that moment, with that strange veil that had descended upon him, encompassing him, merging with him even, Johnathan had not the strength of a young boy, desperately struggling against a much bigger and older and stronger enemy, but instead he somehow had the strength of a full grown man.

  And it was not just the strength of any old man: it was the strength of a man who had lived and learned, who had loved and lost, who had fought to the death, in every sense of the word.

  This was the strength of a man who had travelled to every ends of the Earth to find answers, and yet had only found more questions.

  He had the strength of a hero, of a fable, of a legend.

  Brock surged forward then in response to Johnathan’s charge, throwing his entire weight with him, spurred on by the cheers of his expectant and unruly friends, using the term in the loosest possible way.

  Maddie piped up and a lump caught in her throat, fearful for her brother, naturally. This had never happened before. Johnathan had always just ignored them in the past.

  But the scuffle did not pan out as expected, for either side.

  The bully forced Johnathan back, gripping his wrists and hard as he could, but he managed to push the young boy back barely even half a pace.

  Maddie’s brother braced hard, planting his feet in the ground, his base solid and immovable.

  Splaying his arms to the side Johnathan loosed Brock’s grip in a single movement, catching him by surprise and knocking him off balance.

  Wasting not a second, the young boy struck immediately, with the knowledge and experience seemingly of somebody far beyond his own years. He landed a glancing blow off Brock’s cheek, though he had to reach up above his own height to do so.

  The shot was not designed to immobilise, only stun, and expose weakness, and it did exactly that.

  Instinctively, seemingly not as experienced as Johnathan, though that surely was impossible, the bully raised his hands to protect his face, exposing his chest and abdomen, unprotected.

  Johnathan drove his fists up into the bully’s unprotected torso, winding him dreadfully. But he didn’t simply let him drop then. He felt Brock’s weight slump forward as his legs buckled, and he grabbed him by his shirt, wrapping the material round his fists and up into the scruff of the larger boy’s neck, taking his weight entirely.

  Somehow then, keeping the same grip, the apparently much smaller and younger and weaker boy lifted the bully from his feet, raising him even higher than he already stood, and in the same swift, practiced movement, forced his arms forwards and launched him through the air, sending him flying and sprawling against the base of an oak tree, easily a dozen feet or more away.

  The stunned crowd that had gathered around all backed away in fear from Johnathan then, their retracing steps wary and fearful.

  Johnathan ignored them though, and just looked on at Brock lay squirming at the base of the tree.

  His work was done. His point had been made.

  He need do nothing else.

  Simply looking on for another moment or two, the young boy went back to slowly clenching and unclenching his fists, calming his rage.

  Brock’s followers all immediately departed: some friends they were, and Johnathan continued to compose himself.

  The haze that had descended over him slowly lifted, and he blinked a few times as if returning to reality.

  Maddie rushed to her brother’s side and clasped her small hands around his arm.

  “Johnathan!” She hissed through clenched teeth, her heart racing and fear and confusion coursing through her veins. She was going to check he was alright, but he beat her to the words.

  “Are you ok?” He said immediately.

  “Of course!” She replied, as if his question was ridiculous. “Are you ok!?” The shock and panic and upset in her voice was all too clear. She had no idea what had happened. But then, neither did Johnathan, for he had absolutely no clue what had come over him, and how on Earth he’d been able to do what he’d just done.

  But there was no time to wonder, and Johnathan knew it.

  “Come on!” He urged suddenly, taking Maddie’s hand. “We have to go!”

  He knew instinctively, as most children do, that to remain at the scene of trouble is simply begging to be reprimanded.

  But he spoke not a moment too soon, for all fell silent in that instant, and an all too stern and familiar voice cut through the air like a knife.

  “MASTER DAVIES!”

  Chapter Three

  Johnathan sat outside Miss Falcon’s office, alone in the corridor of the empty school. Since there were only two classes, there were consequently only two classrooms, and they were located at opposite ends of the small building, joined by the single corridor within which Johnathan now sat.

  Between them, separating them, was a single, small room which was the school’s only office.

  Though Miss Falcon and Mrs Burrows shared the office, it had always been referred to as being Miss Falcon’s, and Mrs Burrows had never really seemed to mind.

  Sat in silence, awaiting what would undoubtedly be his disciplinary fate, Johnathan passed the time by examining the corridor about him in the greatest possible detail he could, and straining his ears to the sounds creeping in from outside.

  The corridor was narrow and the walls were built of thick wooden planks, lined horizontally all the way up to the ceiling where the planks cut across above his head. The floor was quite dirty, though it was often cleaned; things are always difficult to keep clean and tidy when there are children around.

  The corridor was growing ever darker as the afternoon laboured on and the sunlight faded slowly away. The only windows were at each end of the corridor, next to the doors to each classroom, and occasionally faces would appear at the panes to ogle down the corridor at him.

  They would always quickly disappear however, as Mrs Burrows politely shooed the children away, giving Johnathan his privacy back, although she would throw him a quick, sympathetic smile, for she knew perhaps better than anyone, for she saw it used the most often, the sharpness of Miss Falcon’s tongue when the matter at hand was a disciplinary one.

  Shouts and screams reached Johnathan’s ears occasionally and he yearned to be outside with Maddie enjoying the rest of the day. It didn’t matter that a barrage of clouds was creeping in overhead. It wouldn’t even have mattered once darkness had descended completely. It was simply his sister’s company that he enjoyed.

  And then, as if she’d had the same thought, Maddie appeared at the dirty window at the far end of the corridor, past Mrs Burrow’s classroom, her face darkened and hidden almost completely by shadow as evening encroached, but he knew it was his sister without a flicker of
a doubt.

  Johnathan turned to her and spread his hands, as if asking what she was doing. She only shook her head in response and pointed at him, raising her eyebrows. He knew she was asking if he was ok, and he just smiled and nodded, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he didn’t know what was going to happen.

  Their parents, Richard and Emily Davies, were in the office with Miss Falcon, undoubtedly deciding what was to be Johnathan’s immediate fate. Maddie was supposedly under the watchful eye of Mrs Burrows, but then so were all the other children, until they either left to return home, or until their parents arrived to collect them.

  Miss Falcon had made a special point of sending for Johnathan’s parents following the incident earlier.

  Maddie disappeared suddenly then as if she had been wrenched away from the window against her will, though of course that wasn’t the case, and Mrs Burrows appeared yet again. Her face was filled with a sorrowful expectancy, though her expression now was laced slightly with contemplating thought, for no one who had seen what Johnathan had done knew exactly quite how he’d managed it.

  If he strained his hearing he could just about make out the muffled voices of Miss Falcon and his mother and father through the thick wooden door to the office. He couldn’t distinguish what they were saying however, only who was speaking at any given time.

  His heart leapt from his chest, feeling as though it would come flying out of his mouth, every time he heard a chair leg scrape on the cold, stone floor within. But, as of yet, he had received no scalding.

  The light crawling in through the two windows at each end of the corridor dimmed yet again, though Johnathan could still faintly see the trees outside through the murky glass. Their leaves and branches whipped about carelessly, and it seemed as though the wind had picked up considerably as night encroached.

  He shivered, not so much from cold, though the day was most certainly heading that way; perhaps somebody had stepped on his grave.

  Suddenly then the mumbling voices ceased and all three chairs scraped on the floor simultaneously.