Beacon

This is a short story based on a novel I've been working on for about 10 years. Feedback is more than welcome.
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Haden's eyes were a fierce blue and seemed almost frozen behind the soft black hair that fell over them. There was a faded scar over his right eye from a rare clumsy moment. His delicate pale skin was almost translucent and emphasized his sharp features. He was average height and solidly built, but even so, looked somewhat malnourished. Raven, being his twin, could be described in a similar way. The only differences in their appearances were those that were related to their individual genders. She was feminine and petite in opposition to his more masculine build. He liked to believe that being larger meant that he was older, but the truth was that they had no way of knowing who was born first. Their bond was as tightly woven as their images. They seemed to compliment each other perfectly. For his brash and lude ways she evened him out in being mild, intelligent, and completely inoffensive. Raven found it a comforting thing to rely on the sturdiness of her brother. He was her rock and she, his wings.

Her journey to mend the past brought her home. Tarbert, Ireland, was where it began all those years ago and where she now needed to be to make peace with her brother. The drive from Dublin was long and gave her far too much availability for thought. The only distraction to her wearied mind was the erratic rains that fell over her vehicle as she ventured southward. She was getting close now and, as the rain had let up for the moment, rolled down the window to let the cool, damp breeze float in to help clear her mind.

She pulled into a small lot a few yards away from the coast. She sat in her car for a moment just breathing and taking in her day. It had been a long drive from Dublin to the small town of Tarbert, in the middle of nowhere. The years spent here were few but they still resounded inside her head. Memories of a grotesquely happy childhood crept up as she caught sight of a large rock standing off in the vast green field before her. The ocean sat to the left of her and she rested her head on the steering wheel while she gathered her thoughts. Raven's hands gripped tightly around the aromatic leather of her make-shift resting place; she closed her eyes and made an effort to repress the emotions that held her there.

In the box Raven sought this cold November morning, she knew, was a picture. She did not have to hold it in her hand to see it clearly. Only two years before did she feel impressed to imprison her memories in that old tin box and bury them. The photo showed a boy and a girl, more than siblings, twins. These children sat on the warm rock in mid-July being no more than 4 or 5 years old. Their age was uncertain as their parents were not present very long after to recall for them the memories they could not posses themselves.

The Sun was just barely coming up over her right shoulder and she pulled away from the wheel. Raven did not need the journals to tell the story of their life; Vivid memory never left her side. Haden had done many things during the war years that neither of them were proud of. At first, when it started fourteen years ago, he made an honest attempt at hiding such things from her. As time passed the effort was far more straining than he could stand and he leaned on her to support their survival.

Haden's criminal activity started small; he had stolen supplies from the general store the first morning after the late night invasion of their home. They were six and he justified taking those things with a need to eat. Raven was more concerned about the lifeless body of Sunny, the owner of the shop, then with her brother's petty thievery. She did, in the end, steal a stack of notebooks herself, with no justification at all.

Onward the memories flowed as the rising Sun shot it's rays deep into her sheltered vehicle. She recalled the first men on the road that the pair had met as they ventured towards the safety of information. They were unaware of the purpose of it all and sought knowledge in Dublin. For close to three years these men treated the twins like their very own children, but the need showed itself eventually for the group to go their separate ways. It wouldn't be for many years until Raven realized the heaviness of their leaving. Haden had presented the three barbaric men with enough alcohol to lull them into an ill-fated slumber. Her brother had done a good job of removing evidence from his person of his betrayal; the only evidence was of blood that clung to the dampness of his shoes.

In an attempt to rid herself of the heat that found her as the Sun rose to mid-sky she turned on the ignition and blasted the air conditioner. Still the images seeped from her mind and spilled over into her reality. Year after year Haden did what he felt was best for his sister. His innocent sins were violations of what little laws were left in their precious Ireland, but with nobody present to stop him in this deceased land of murderers and thieves, they continued to barely survive.

She opened her car door and stopped for just a moment to take in the smell of the ocean. Turning off the ignition and stepping onto the dirt, she closed the car door and walked on towards the sea. Raven made her way down the stone steps to the ocean. She was back in Ireland for a short time to try and mend some part of her broken heart. She remembered playing here as a child with her brother. She could almost feel him near her now, though she knew he was very far away. She stood for a moment with her long coat flapping in the strong breeze, arms wrapped tightly around her for warmth. Her long black hair was in a lose ponytail and she ignored it as it flew around her face. The ocean pulled up close to her sneakers and splashes of water made their way to the denim of her pants. The grass behind her seemed to move with the sea and the sand was the engulfed by water.

The taste of salt met her lips as she pondered where life had taken her. As a child she stood in this same place knowing everything she wanted to be as an adult. She looked back now with a small pang of guilt for letting down the little girl inside of her. Nothing could have prepared Raven for the scattered life she would find herself a part of.

Her sight was again set upon the sea as her mind continued to wander. Pulling back a few steps she took a seat upon the cold stone. She pulled her jacket in tighter as a strong breeze swept right through her bones. Taking a moment to look around before letting herself cry, she finally dropped her head into her arms and let out years of pain, regret and guilt.

As the Sun began to set, Raven found herself being startled awake by a flashing light. She was still on the stone steps by the sea and her eyes seemed to burn as she opened them. She remembered now where she was, that she had been crying. Again, a flash of light blinded her, causing her eyes to burn even more. When the light passed she looked down at the water; the sea had returned to it's normal level and was now several feet from the steps she sat upon. Across the vast emptiness of the water, on Tarbert Island, stood a glorious lighthouse. Tarbert Light, she knew, was a beacon of hope for many.

Knowing that it must be late for the lights to already be on, Raven stood and headed back to her car. It had been a long day and she needed to go up to the old house. It was a good distance away up the old dirt road, but one she'd have no trouble finding in the dark.

She had returned here a few years prior but had only walked around to the backyard. On this journey she found it quite important to make her way into the house. Having parked her car at the front of the driveway, Raven sat for a moment mustering courage. The last time she was inside this structure she was six years old. That time seemed so long ago and so rudely misplaced in her mind.

She replayed her fight with Haden from just the week before as she continued to wait for courage to arrive. After the war had ended the government had ordered all record of it destroyed. A clean start, they felt, was just what Ireland needed after close to twenty years of bloodshed. Though Raven was only a record keeper for the last twelve years of the conflict she did not see safety in destroying the record of the past. She had escaped the trivial pursuits of the government and hidden away her journals and emblems of her childhood in the place where it all began for her. Haden did not see so clearly the need to keep the record of his misdeeds. If her intention had continued to be publication, he wanted her aware that it would devastate him. Hard evidence would destroy what he had regained in the two years since the end of the conflict.

After the moments had turned into something that more resembled a half an hour, Raven shut off her car, grabbed a flashlight and opened the door. The grass was overgrown, but it was as green as she had remembered it. It took some effort to find her way past the four or so feet of grass that made it's way a good deal past her elbows. She reached the front door and was so distracted pulling wet grass out of her hair that she barely thought about the impact of entering her home. Once inside she marveled at the scene before the circle of her flashlight. Though 14 years of dust dulled the tangible memories of her past she noted that barely anything was different than she had previously recalled.

Making her way down the front hall towards the kitchen she was startled by a stern crunch under her foot. Brushing aside a thick layer of dust she picked up a fraction of what she recognized as a dinner plate. Placing the glass back in it's original place, with clear signs of being disturbed, she made her way around the corner into the kitchen. Things had surely changed in this room since the last night she sat at the table eating pork and potatoes. The table was sideways and far away from it's original position in the breakfast nook. Many other things were clearly out of place as well, but none of that mattered once she saw what she had entered the house to see. The dust on the floor was so thick that details were difficult to make out and so she had no way of telling which outline was her father, and which was her mother. She dared not go closer as she knew her stomach could not take much more of this image.

Turning to leave she found strength unavailable in her knees and she fell to the floor. Remembering now the sounds of gunfire that cold November night as she clung to her tree in the back woods. The fear and denial finally found her and her mind filled with it. Long amounts of time lapsed as she struggled to regain her composer. Raven was very much unaware of the time and it was clear that the strength to complete her task was quickly leaving her. With one last thread of determination she pulled herself to her feet and quickly found her way back out the front door.

Raven pulled her car to the back of the house and aimed the lights towards a small corner. The "X" on the wall was severely faded but still recognizable. She took a small shovel from the trunk of her car and dug beneath the marking on the wall. After a short time she found what she had come for. She sat a few feet away from her crude hole and held a small rust colored box in her hands. Here they were. All twelve years of the war recorded with her hand in these small notebooks. The tin box that housed the journals was rusted through in places, but the paper was, for the most part, intact.

The fire started out small and due to the dampness of nightfall and all of the days rain it stayed reasonably undetectable. One by one the pages were added to the embers, removing stain after stain from their past.

A deep numbness filled her as she released Haden from the bondage she had captured him in. His final betrayal was more a reflection of how she had ruined him. She watched the fire smolder, feeling as though she had finally done something right for him. Haden's soul, at last, would be free. Her fate was not so certain as she envisioned the long years that waited for her, ones that would be deeply empty without her brother.

The fire was nothing but cold ash by morning and Raven shoveled the remains back into her pretty tin box, placed it in its original hiding place, and forever buried the ashes of the past.

And so it ends.

Nirvana

To die, means to have once lived.
A life, with nothing left go give.
A heart, that will never fit.
A soul, to buried to forget.
A time, that is flying past.
A love, that is bound to last.
A world, that is letting go.
A space, with neither friend nor foe.