The Legend of Hy-Breasail: Chapter 8
Published Mar 5, 2015

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The Legend of Hy-Breasail, chapter 8 : Devastation

I haven't updated this story in a little while so just to recap what happened previously- Kim and Davis reached the island and they found out that they've been cursed- as soon as a person sets foot on Hy-Breasail their whole existence is erased. Nobody outside of the island will remember them and everything they have ever owned or earned is gone, everything but the clothes on their backs.

The Legend of Hy-Breasail, chapter 8 : Devastation

I haven't updated this story in a little while so just to recap what happened previously- Kim and Davis reached the island and they found out that they've been cursed- as soon as a person sets foot on Hy-Breasail their whole existence is erased. Nobody outside of the island will remember them and everything they have ever owned or earned is gone, everything but the clothes on their backs.
As soon as they set foot on land again, Davis walked Kim home. If it could be called home. The house belonged to her aunt and uncle and she was just a temporary resident there, a visitor, her own home was many miles across the oceans. Would she ever return? He was fast having to admit to himself that the curse could be entirely true after all. Something just didn't feel right.

"I'll wait here for you" he told Kim, "I'll wait here while you, you know, check your life is still intact", he gave a nervous half-laugh, a forced chuckle that ebbed away and vanished with his forced smile.
"Are you serious, Davis? You don't believe them for a second, do you? You have to go home. Let's not be irrational about all this. Look, believe me, I'm going to go through that door and everything will be as normal as ever it was. Uncle Chester will be snoring on the sofa, and.."

"Kim!" Davis interupted, a little more harshly than he had intended, he wanted to tell her to wake up, to open her eyes and accept that none of this was normal, something had changed, something sinister had happened.

"Davis" Kim said sternly, "people's lives don't just disappear, you know. It just doesn't happen. I can't believe you're even entertaining this nonsense"

Davis wondered if she was trying to convince him or convince herself, "meet me back here in twenty minutes?" he said, "at the 24-hour cafe at the end of the street. Please. Just incase they're telling us the truth. The last thing we need is to lose eachother too"

He couldn't quite believe the word's that were coming out of his own mouth. Kim looked at him disbelievingly, "okay" she agreed, with a great deal of reluctance, "okay, I'll see you in twenty minutes"

"This is madness" she whispered to herself as she set off down the pathway, shaking her head several times.
Davis reached his own house minutes later. He felt like he was in a trance. He opened the side door, the entrance to the kitchen, and stepped inside.

Nobody locked their doors in Little Crestfea. They didn't need to. Crime's such as theft and vandalism were things they only read in the newspapers or heard about on soap opera's.
The kitchen was empty, it seemed the household had retired for the night. "Hello?" he said softly, "Mum? Dad?"

There came no reply. He was almost relieved.
He went into the hallway and up the stairs. He was weary. He felt ridiculous, but there it was again, that feeling that something wasn't right. Something definitely wasn't right.

He needed to see his room. His space. His belongings. The room full of proof that he existed.

He took a deep breath, and another, and another as each step took him closer.
His heart was beating in his ears, growing louder by the second. He felt dizzy.

He swung the door open and stepped inside.

He couldn't think clearly. What on earth was all this?

It was his room, but not as he had left it. It was unrecognisable.
A maze of bric-a-brac littered the area where his bed had been. A wiff of damp, of oldness, caught in his nostrils as he staggered forward into what was clearly an old storage room.

He blinked and stared straight ahead. Forgotten objects filled his sight in every direction; old Christmas decor. A dusty lamp. An armchair from at least a decade ago, he thought he had seen it before in his late grandmother's house. And mannequins- three of them from that one time his mother had taken a notion to start her own dressmaking business, a hobby she had gotten bored of after two days and never pursued. Fishing boat oars- another expensive hobby pursued and forgotten about when something new came along, this time by his father. And a rugby ball on the carpet that had belonged to his eldest brother, it too, a passing fad.

Everywhere he looked he saw other people's things, but nothing of his own. Not one item, not one relic or possession that could say 'Davis existed'
There was the old train track. The once anticipated Christmas present of another of his brother's. Davis couldn't even remember which one now, he had been barely more than a toddler himself then.

He gently clicked the on button, still trance-like, and the little model village of long ago whirred and clicked into life again once more.
He turned slowly away. A yellow glint caught his eye, and his heart momentarily lifted.

"That was mine!" he said to himself, "the magic 8 ball, I owned that".

There was something left of him after all, or was there?
He picked it up and squinted his eyes. There was something scrawled onto it with a permanent marker. "Property of Barry, keep your hands off it, Davis!" he read aloud, and then it all came back to him. It had belonged to Barry, his brother closest in age to Davis. He remembered now. It had been a bone of contention between them, Davis was fascinated by it and Barry had never grasped how to share.

He shook the old yellow plastic sphere weakly. "Is this all a nightmare?" he asked it.

"No!" the answer floated up plainly.

He threw the ball down on a pile of rugs and went downstairs, defeated, leaving the beeps, hoots, and chugs of the old train without an audience.

Closing the door tightly behind him he vowed never to go into the room again. It was no longer his, and it was beginning to feel like it never had been.

He felt like he was intruding in the home of strangers.

Downstairs again, he walked cautiously into his workshop.

Another glimmer of false hope. The room was full, familiar, just as he had left it. But on careful inspection he remembered all the tools, the furniture, even the bicycle resting against the wall had belonged to his father.

That, too, had been another bone of contention. There had been plenty in the family. But right now Davis didn't care about the arguments, his father's criticism of his passion for carpentry or anything else. None of it seemed important anymore. Would his father even remember who he was now? That was the more pressing matter on his mind.
He gasped loudly as he stepped through the next doorway.

Everything was gone.
His hours of toil wasted. The cuts on his hands, the nights he had worked into morning sunlight, all for nothing.

The tables he had so intricately sculpted, the chairs painstakingly sanded and varnished while he wiped the sweat from his forehead, the cupboards, so elegant, once towering to the ceiling, no more. All of it, gone, into the abyss. Into nothingness.

Every last trace of his existence extinguished.
He returned to the hallway, his heart heavier than ever.

He paused.

There was a murmur, a distance voice, coming from the living room down the hallway. The television was on. Someone was awake.

He straightened his shoulders and walked toward the sound, knowing this was probably going to be the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. It was time to present himself to his family- the ultimate test of whether he was really forgotten or not.
He tiptoed down the hall and found his mother watching a late night game show, unable to sleep.

He walked forward and stopped, walked forward and stopped again. "What do I say?" he thought to himself, "where do I begin?"
He attempted to speak but couldn't, a low mumble was all he could muster.

He tried again.

"Ah...hi" he muttered. This was ridiculous. She was his mother, he was speaking to her as though they had never met. "Ah, mum?" he tried again. He shook his head.

"Mum!" he called out.
His mother leapt to her feet in fright, throwing her hands up in defense, startled and afraid.

"Take it, take it all" she squawked, "the TV, the hi-fi system, whatever it is you want. Don't hurt me, please"
"M,mum!" Davis stuttered, "it's me. It's me"

His mother kept her arms raised and stepped backwards away from him in fear, ready to run.

"Take it easy, mum. It's me, it's Davis. Calm down, it's only me. I would never steal from you or hurt you, come on, it's me"
She stepped back further and further, increasing the distance between herself and Davis, all the while keeping her eye on him.

"I, I don't know who you are, but my husband is upstairs. I'll call him, I will" his mother warned him, her voice shaking.

"It's me!" Davis said, exasperated and desperate, "look, me! Your son! Your youngest, Davis!"

His mother took a few further steps backwards. The look in her eyes said it all, he was a stranger to her.

"For goodness sakes, it's me. It's me, mum!", he tried one last time.

"Stop calling me that!" she snapped. "What is this? Some sort of prank? I am not your mother! I have never seen you in my life!", and with that she called her husband with a loud, threatening shout.
He watched in disbelief as his mother fled through the far door and out of his sight, yelling for her husband, flailing her arms and wailing as though Davis was a monster.

He staggered back and headed for the door leading back outside into the snow, determined to find Kim.

He clearly didn't belong here any more.
As Davis approached Kim's family's house he was greeted by a rowdy guldering.

"And don't come back!" the voice yelled, it was Kim's uncle Chester. The few times Davis had met him he had seemed like a laid back, mild mannered sort of person. Something had clearly upset him to make him react like this, and Davis knew straight away, of course, what it was.

Kim, as he had expected, had suffered the same fate as himself. She too was a non entity now.

"But, uncle Chester.." Kim pleaded in the calmest voice she could muster. Davis silenty joined her on the pathway, a show of quiet support, and took her hand in his.

"I am not your uncle" Chester growled, "is this some sort of joke? Is it? Get out of here!"

"But..but.." Kim tried to reason with him.

"Go!" he screamed, stamping his bare foot in the snow, and into the night Davis and Kim were forced to flee:

Homeless, pennyless, and with nothing left but each other and a mass of regrets.
To be continued. Thanks for reading.

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#1behemoth_blueMar 25, 2015

Whoa, this is getting intense.
I was just wondering how come the magic ball has the inscription "Property of Barry, keep your hands off it, Davis!" on it. Is there another Davis now that the real Davis's existence has been erased?
Great chapter, btw.!\:rah\:
Looking forward to the next one.

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