desperate prayers of a cursed man

The ground crunched beneath his feet as he followed the map he’d managed to purchase after leaving the airport. His fathers shoes were slightly too big but that seemed to work in his favour as after walking for miles his feet were miraculously blister free.

The fields he walked across were quieter than the ones before, the crowds had started to disperse as daylight began to disappear. He had contemplated getting a hotel and starting his hike towards the waterfalls early the next day but his heart simply wouldn’t allow it.

The fight between his heart and his head was won easily as the past six years rested heavily on it, and he thought back to that night, to his graduation where he silently searched for her face in the crowd, to the book signings when he’d see a faceless woman that had her hair and was a similar height - it was simple, he’d waited long enough.

For six years he was stuck in purgatory. Wondering if she had died that night and the story that he’d conjured in his head and still hung onto with an unwavering sense of hope and devotion.

As the distant sound of water hitting rocks rung out in his ears he briefly thought back over the past few days, thinking about the night after his received the postcard and he sat at his parents dining table and informed him of his impromptu flight across the globe to visit a country that he’d never mentioned wanting to visit before; his mothers excitement but visible worry etched across her face as she told him how proud she was that he was taking some time just for him, and his father nodding in agreement. He looked over at Holly who was silent, but smiling, she seemed to be searching for answers about this trip that she knew he was keeping hidden.

That night he slept in his childhood bedroom for the first time in years, but not before making a few short phone calls to the people he needed to hear from the most.

The first call was to Lucas, he figured it was the easiest as he knew Max would no doubt be sitting next to him with the phone nestled between their heads. He hadn’t seen them in a few months because they’d been travelling together, backpacking South America and getting engaged at Machu Picchu in front of an enthusiastic crowd of strangers. They’d sent Postcards from each destination they’d visited and let him know they expected one in return and he laughed and promised that he’d make it his priority before saying a soft “see you later” as the word goodbye was out of limits to the party from that very night.

The next was to Will. The shortest call of the three as he was getting ready to go to the theater that he worked in. The understudy of the main character in a show that had dazzled him shortly after moving to the city. Will had made him promise that his return flight would include a pit stop in New York so they could eat good pizza and have a much needed catch up and he agreed with a sense of excitement.

And the last was to Dustin. Dustin who always answered before the third ring. “Iceland, huh?” He’d said with an obvious intrigue. “You just woke up and decided it was calling to you?” And Mike laughed before answering with a simple “Yes.” Dustin laughed back before letting out an amused sigh. “I’ll see you soon.” They both said to each other at the same time before Dustin insisted that he’d call him from Iceland. To which he agreed without hesitation.

That night sleep came easier than it had in a long time, the possibilities for once seemed endless and it bought him peace.

Lost in thought his feet moved quicker than before, the overwhelming feeling of anticipation almost making him feel weightless as the sound of water was closer than ever. He’d expected to have been exhausted by the hike, by the climbing and the different terrains he trekked across but he was content.

One tiny rocky climb left and he took each step with caution, not willing to allow himself to get distracted by the glorious sound and risk harming himself and once he was at the top safe he finally allowed himself to look.

The view was astonishing, a beauty he’d never experienced first hand before laid out in front of him and leaving him speechless. Even with the dark creeping in and the realization that he didn’t quite know where he was going he was unable to think of anything but the view in front of him.

He slowly let the straps of his backpack fall off his shoulders for the first time in hours, and placed it carefully on the ground before lowering himself down. Sitting on a jagged rock in front of the Waterfalls and listening to the harmonious sound of the waves crashing against rock and hitting the ground beneath them. It was a peace he had never known.

The other side of where he sat was the top of cliffs in which the waterfalls stood. Lushious green land stretched out across for as far as the eye could see, a smattering of campers sat peacefully in the field and that’s when he allowed himself to wonder.

For a sneaky and unexpected moment he wondered if this could be a sick prank, a postcard sent from someone to taunt him and further haunt him silently but it soon fell away as he remembered that only two people were aware of the conversation about ‘faraway lands and three waterfalls’ and he knew Hopper would never hurt him this way.

So it had to be. It had to be her. He knew she couldn’t use her powers that night, the machines that had pointed at her were much too strong. She was out here somewhere, and she was ready for him to come and find her.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a fresh bottle of water, taking a few sips before slipping it back in and pulling himself up. He carefully descended back down the rocky hill and began his journey around to the other side.

Each step seemed to bring even more hope, the uncomfortable pain that lived in the center of his chest seemed to numb as he moved forward. He had spent years convincing himself that the pain that felt permanent was worth it, because it would constantly remind him of her. And when the pain was at its worst, it was okay, because after it would settle down she would visit him in dreams.

He walked slowly through the crowd of campers trying not to seem conspicuous or a threat as his eyes studied each one, desperately trying to get of sense of who could be inside them, if she could be inside them but after inspecting them all or getting a glance of the people inside or outside of them he found nothing. No trace of her. Nothing that indicated that she would be inside one of them.

He sighed loudly, feeling a little frustrated before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the mysterious postcard that was sitting heavily in his pocket. And that’s when he saw it. A tiny scratch, clearly made deliberately in the field past the waterfalls. He stepped backwards and moved the postcard away so it was at arms length and he studied it for a few moments before letting his eyes scan the area in which the scratch was situated.

And that’s when he finally saw it. A tiny camper in the distance. Half white, half pink. Smoke blowing out of the top like steam spouting out of a tea kettle. The smoke wasn’t dangerous, it was inviting, the kind of smoke that pumps through an air filter from the heater being switched on or food being cooked on a tiny stove.

He stood still for a few moments. The gravity of the moment finally weighing on him. The torturous what ifs roaming through his mind for what felt like an eternity before he slightly shook his head and took a step, and then another and then another and a whole bunch more, and before he knew it; it wasn’t in the distance, it wasn’t so far that he couldn’t make out the finally hand painted flowers on the lower half of the camper that had been delicately painted pink.

He could smell freshly cooked bread and sizzling bacon and it was dizzying in the best possible way.

He took a few more steps before he stood directly in front of the door of the camper. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before reaching his hand up to tap the door but before it could reach the door swung open and for a second he couldn’t catch a breath. The earth felt like it had moved beneath him. And a feeling he hadn’t felt for years swept throughout him in the most breathtaking manner and just when he felt like he might collapse from the rush of adrenaline that was sweeping throughout him he heard it.

“Mike.” Her voice anchored him back down, and he was able to confirm that what he was seeing was real. It wasn’t a dream this time, the cold air hitting his face where a stream of tears floated down his cheeks was the shock he needed to know this was real.

A choked “El” slipped through his lips in response as he sobbed and laughed harder.

The ending in which he was alone, the ending in which she was alone had been rewritten.

She was there. Only a step away from his grasp. Their tears falling in synchronicity with the sounds of elation that slipped through both of their lips.

Six years of pain, six years of unknowing, six years of grief and misery melting away as they reached out and embraced each other.

His small apartment felt dizzying as he attempted to maneuver the sacks of untouched fanmail that seemed to arrive in larger quantities each day; he had learned that just one bump would see hundreds of letters scatter across his floor and now he takes each step with a little too much caution.

He refused to make eye contact with the nonperishable groceries that were still sitting on his counter awaiting to be lifted into his cupboards and stacked away and instead poured himself a large glass of water and downed it in two gulps.

Mike's new normal was spending all day in his favourite coffee shop that overlooked the blossoming trees listening to the everyday hustle of life, he found it comforting as he quietly transported to the faraway lands and the lush worlds he handcrafted. Each daydream brings new ideas that form compelling stories filled with wonder, awe, excitement with a handful of pain and devastation.

Writing had quickly become his escape, creating stories that occasionally came from a memory or his past quietly haunting him. Sometimes they came from bits of conversation he picked up as he sipped his coffee and nibbled on whatever pastry had caught his eye that day.

After finishing a second glass of water he turned to the never ending sacks of letters from fans that hung on every word he wrote, some just thanking him for sharing his stories with the world and others begging and pleading for a sneak peek of what’s to come next.

After a few moments of being lost in thought, he decided on the bag he was determined to make a dent in. He had accepted that not all the letters needed replying to but he read each one with a sense of accomplishment and gratitude. Some made him smile, laugh and filled his chest with a warm fuzzy feeling of pride and others made him cry. But he read them all, each word fueling his determination to give his work the ending it deserves… maybe even the ending he deserved 6 years ago.

The sound of his phone ringing made him jump, he was replying to a letter from a kid with a story he’d heard a thousand times already, one he related to and one he always felt compelled to reply to. A young boy, bullied relentlessly but someone who found solace and safety in the confines of his writing. Something he knew all too well.

“Hi Mom.” He answered the phone confidently, it was 8:30pm and his mom called him every other day promptly at this time; asking about his work and trying to convince him to come around for dinner the next night and picking holes at whatever excuse he came up with.

He managed to get her off the phone after agreeing to go around the next evening after she promised to make baked ziti and his favorite dessert and he couldn’t help but smile as she squealed down the phone with excitement. He knew he needed to stop avoiding his family so much, he had gotten into the habit of spending most of his time alone. The nights slipped into days at a faster pace than he liked but in the loneliness he was able to imagine things without fear of interruption, he was able to imagine the future that had been cruelly ripped from him and he was able to fall asleep hanging on the comfort it gave him.

It was only as he placed the phone back on the receiver that from the corner of his eye he noticed it, the light from his lamp hitting the shiny print of a postcard sitting neatly on top of his newest bag of mail.

He took three small calculated steps and stared down at the photo printed on the front as felt a warmth sweep through his entire body. He slowly reached down with his left hand and let his fingers drift across the card before he picked it up and studied it with a sharp intensity. He took his time studying each waterfall and appreciating the striking beauty and the uniqueness of each one.

“El.” He said with barely a whisper, her name slipping through his lips like it was made just for him. He took a deep breath before flipping the card. It was addressed to his parents house and had one word written on it. No signature. No name. “Pretty.” But the singular word was enough and he knew who it was from.

He flipped the postcard back over and this time focused on the town and country that was written in small print on the bottom right hand corner. Háifoss, The River Fossá, Iceland.

“I’m coming, El.” He promised with a whisper at the postcard, tears streaming down his cheeks and he let out a long exhale. His first real exhale in years.