Clavis is my nr 1

It was so long ago that you couldn’t quite pinpoint the year, but your family had rented a summer house to get away from the routines of everyday life.

Boredom soon set in, away from all your friends and the amenities of home. Dust motes danced slowly through the rays of sun coming through the windows. The only sound in the air was the distant hum of a lawnmower. The heat had slowed time to a standstill. In a bid to beat the boredom, or at least get some air, you headed out to the woods behind the house. They were just large enough for an adventure, and just small enough that if you got lost, you wouldn’t be lost for long.

Under the canopy, the world outside fell away. A thousand shades of green, broken only by small cracks of sunlight between the foliage. The gentle trickle of water drew you to a little stream that wound its way between the trees.

On a rock by the edge of the stream, not too far from where you were, sat a boy. Hearing your approach, he turned to you. Wild silvery hair framed a narrow, almost fox-like face. "There you are." His voice was warm, the tone casual. As if you being here was the most natural thing in the world.

You looked over your shoulder, to see if the strange boy was talking to someone else, but there were only the two of you. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else--”

“Nope, I knew you were coming. I’ve been waiting ages for you. You just arrived at the yellow house yesterday, right?”

“How would you know that?” Maybe he knew the owners of the house?

“I know many things.” He smiled, and held out his hand. “I’m Mitsuhide.”

From that day on, you became fast friends. Mitsuhide often appeared from seemingly nowhere, like a ghost. He only came when you were alone, soundlessly, or with the quiet tinkle of bells. Always in the forest.

You invited him to come for ice cream, or to go meet your family, or go exploring different parts of the town, but he always refused.

You told your family about him, but when you explained that he wouldn’t come by and say hi, and that he would only show himself to you, they assumed he was just an imaginary friend. Your imagination was vivid, but there was no way you could have invented an entire boy, was there? Imaginary friends weren’t supposed to be this vivid, were they?

“You’re real, aren’t you?” You asked him one day, after once again having tried to convince your family that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. .

“I suppose so, he shrugged.” He held out his hand, and you took it. “I couldn’t hold your hand if I was imaginary, could I?”

That made sense. His hand was warm wrapped around yours, and a strange fluttering filled your body. After that, you decided it didn’t matter what your family thought. You knew he was real, and that was all that mattered to you. He said strange things sometimes, and he would never talk about his family, or where he came from, or even why you could only meet in the forest, but he was undeniably flesh and blood. The mystery just made him more intriguing.

The two of you spent the summer bathing, running about, and talking about anything that came to mind in the moment. Being around him was so easy, and you loved every moment of it. He showed you the secrets of the forest. What plants were edible, what ones had helpful characteristics like healing, and what ones to stay clear of. He showed you how to find different animals, and you watched them together in silent awe. He even had a little fox that would sometimes follow you around. He was like no other boy you had ever met.

When the day came that you were leaving, you found him at the edge of the woods. He took your hand, and you walked for a while in silence before he stopped and gave you a hug. There was something final about the gesture. He then stepped back, and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. “When you go back, you won’t remember me.”

“I will, I promise!” You reached for his hand, but he took another step back, out of reach. How could you forget the person who had brought you so much enjoyment and excitement. Someone who, you now realised, had become one of your best friends.

He shook his head. “No, you won’t. Not until the time is right. But that’s alright.” His lips quirked into a small melancholy smile.

You opened your mouth to ask him what he meant, but before any sound could leave you, he had vanished into the woods.

That was the last you saw of him, and with no one to talk to about him, and so much happening in your life, the memory of him slowly faded into nothing and he once again became a ghost.

Back in the present, something told you that you had to go back to those woods, that there was a reason why you had remembered all this now. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, or even why you needed to go there. Memories were just memories after all. And even if Mitsuhide was real, what were the odds he would even be around that sleepy little town any more. But it was autumn, and the price of renting the old house was so low that you might as well head out for a weekend, if only just to get away from your everyday life for a bit.

The town was quiet without the holiday makers. Only a few cars passed you on the way there. Time had not been kind to the house. The owners had grown old, and so had the building, but it was dry, cosy and clean. You chose the same bedroom as you had as a child, a room stuck in time.

That night you didn’t dream.

The morning crept up, grey and misty. Looking out the window over the rim of your steaming cup, the trees loomed like quiet sentinels. The prospect of going for a walk in those woods was all of a sudden much less tempting than it had been just last night. But what were you to do? Sit and wonder all day? You shrugged on a coat and some wellies and headed out.

Just as you took the first step into the forest, the sun broke through the clouds. The woods felt like they were welcoming you back. You almost chuckled at the thought. The path, now sun-dappled and soft under your feet, wound its way towards where you had first met him.

The white slab came in to view, and your stomach dropped. It was there, an empty and silent witness to the stillness of the forest. Accompanied only by your disappointment, you advanced. Inexplicably pulled towards it even now.

The wind rustled through the leaves, and you could swear you heard the faint chime of bells. It must be your imagination, conjuring up the faint sounds of a dream, you thought to yourself. Just wishful thinking. The second time the sound came, there was no denying that it was real. Your heartbeat quickened, and when you turned around, he was there. His face had sharpened with age, and he had grown into a tall well-built man, but his silvery hair and golden eyes were unmistakeable. For a moment you wondered if this too was a dream, and you had to resist the impulse to pinch yourself. The wind picked up, sending leaves swirling around you.

He smiled, something indeterminable twinkled in his golden eyes. As he advanced towards you, it was as if the forest floor itself smoothed to let him glide effortlessly across it. As if he was a part of it, and it a part of him.

Now that you were here, standing across from him, words evaded you. His presence felt the same, even after all the years that had passed. All doubts you previously had about coming here evaporated like dew in the sunlight.