The Truth Of Stories.

My name is Amal. I’m thirteen years old, and for as long as I can remember, my father has told me stories. Stories about our village and our ancestors and neighbors, stories about things that leave you wondering if they actually happened. I can’t remember a day of my life ever passing without my father telling me a story. But today, I have a story to tell you. One that happened not so long ago right here in our village.

The village of Sundune is tiny, always has been. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in mystique. You can’t go more than five minutes here without someone warning you to stay out of the nearby jungles unless you wanted to be taken by two headed monkeys. Or worse, people would say that if you left your door open at night, you invited the shadow spirit into your home and once you did that, you could never escape him. But as scary as those stories are, we do have some good ones as well. Such as if you have the same dream more than three times in a row, it means a great blessing is about to befall you. Or if you sing your favorite song in the wee hours of the night, when no one else is awake, the angels draw nearer to you and you can feel their presence as you sleep. But one of my favorite stories has always been about Lucky Mountain. It lies far to the east and stands so high it almost touches the clouds. People say, that if you are brave enough to make the tiresome journey across the land toward it, and then you gathered your courage and began to climb the mountain…you would find great treasures hidden within the mountain’s rocks and sparkling jewels tucked deep into its caves. The treasures are meant to be a gift to anyone who is daring enough to reach Lucky Mountain and climb the peaks. You may keep all that you find there and use it as you see fit. But with every reward…there comes a risk. Legend has it that your good fortune from Lucky Mountain will only remain as long as you respect what has been around far longer than any of us: the mountain itself. If you do that, well then, you have nothing to worry about. If you don’t…a great darkness will come for you. And one day, that darkness came for my father.

It was the second day of the first week of summer, the hottest day known to man in our village, and I woke up to find an unexpected guest in the kitchen. My uncle Malak was sitting at the dinner table with his arms folded and his brow furrowed. He glanced up and when he saw me, his expression broke out into a smile. “Amal. I didn’t hear you get up.” My uncle opened his arms wide and I ran to him, giving him a tight embrace. Despite the initial surprise, I was glad he was here. But I was also curious since he only ever came by when my father wouldn’t be around for a while. I wondered where he would be going this time. A few minutes later, my father came into the room. He had a small sack slung over his shoulder and a huge grin on his face. “Well, I’m off!” He looked straight at me. “Amal, you be good for your uncle now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” “Wait, where are you going?” I asked. My father’s smile grew. “To change our lives forever! Many others have taken on the challenge, and now, so shall I. I’m going to Lucky Mountain!” Before I could begin to think of a response, my uncle huffed and said, “Fruitless endeavor. You’re just wasting your time like all those other fools.” My father shook his head. “Trust me Malak, I can feel it in my bones! Change is on the horizon.” Turning his attention back to me, my father met my eyes and said seriously, “I’ll be gone for a few days. After all, the journey is quite long. But when I return, we’ll have more treasure than we’ll know what to do with!” Although my uncle thought my father was chasing after nonsense, I truly believed his words that day. I knew the stories about Lucky Mountain well, and I also knew my father was one determined man. If anyone could be courageous enough to trek across the land and climb the highest peaks, it was him. And so, that day, I gave my father the biggest hug, wished him luck, and waved goodbye as he set out to change our lives.

He was gone for several days. My uncle and I passed the time waiting for him to return by guessing how many gold pieces he would bring home with him. Well, at least, I did. My uncle on the other hand spent the days saying over and over again, “The only thing your father is going to return with are rocks in his shoes.” I supposed only time would tell. And just two more days later, my father was finally home. Though…his return wasn’t anything like I was expecting. I had thought his steps would be light as air and his pockets full of jewels. Instead, his eyes were tired and his face and body were covered in ash and soot. Just the sight of him made my heart sped up with worry. My uncle and I both raced to my father as soon as he stepped through the door. “Father, are you all right?” I asked him. “What happened?” My father waved a hand through the air. “Now, now, don’t make a fuss. I’m fine.” “What happened?” I asked again. That was when my father told us that he did indeed make it to Lucky Mountain, but when he got there, he was too tired from the journey to begin the climb. So he set up camp and decided to sleep at the mountain’s base until the next morning, then he would start climbing. “I lit a fire.” He said, wiping some of the soot off his cheek. I inhaled a sharp breath and froze. So did my uncle. Then, I slowly turned to my father, hoping I had misheard him.

Everyone knew that it was against the ancient laws to light a fire at Lucky Mountain. There was too much foliage, too many dead leaves around, too many broken branches that could cause a single flame to go from a flicker to a blaze in seconds. It was just too dangerous. Seeing the panicked expressions on our faces, my father said, “I had to. I couldn’t see a thing once it got dark. Besides, I was only going to let it burn for a little while. Then I would put it out.” He hesitated before saying, “But I was too tired. I fell asleep and the next thing I knew, I woke to find a wall of flames before me. I immediately got up and ran. I tried to do something to stop the flames but they were too big. The fire was moving fast…and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” My father took a deep breath before continuing. “But thankfully, the fire was on a straight path for the eastern river. It reached the shoreline before eventually dying out. It died out…but many trees and flowers and parts of the mountain had been destroyed. I left as quickly as I could after that.” When my father finished speaking, all my uncle and I could do was stare at him. “What do you mean you left?” My uncle finally asked. My father shrugged. “There was nothing I could do. So I left.” “Of course there was something you could do!” My uncle said, his tone suddenly becoming sharp. “You could never have lit a fire in the first place! You know that is forbidden!” My father rolled his eyes. “Nonsense. Those legends and warnings are nothing but a bunch of foolishness.”

The moment he said that I could feel my anger beginning to rise. My whole life, my father had told me the stories and magic and lessons behind all that foolishness, as he now called it. He was the one who instilled in me the importance of our world’s wonder. And yet, here he was now tossing it all aside like it meant nothing. I supposed his lack of success from his journey had affected him more than he realized. My uncle glared at my father. “I hope for your sake, it truly is just a bunch of foolishness. Because you not only broke the ancient laws but you destroyed parts of the mountain. There’s no telling how it will come back to haunt you.” With that, my uncle stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. My father did nothing but roll his eyes. “Foolishness.” He said again. After that, I made my way to my room, my heart pounding. I couldn’t stop thinking about my uncle’s words. And it was because his words terrified me. My father had done something terrible, he had been so careless. And I had no idea what was going to happen because of it.

As the weeks passed, my father and I fell back into our old routine of chores and cooking and going to the market. For the most part, things were back to normal. It was like my father’s journey had never even happened. But although he seemed to forget all about it, it was the one thing that was constantly on my mind. Fear kept me awake at night and dread haunted my steps during the day. With every loud noise or close call, I would jump out of my skin, terrified that the great darkness had finally come for my father. After nearly a month, my father noticed my behavior and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “There’s no need to worry.” He told me. “None of those stories are real. And nothing is going to happen to me.” For a while, I actually believed that. Until one fateful day.

My father had gone out a few miles beyond the village to look for some herbs to use in the soup we were making for dinner. He grabbed his coat, left at sunset, and said he’d be back in less than an hour. But after three hours, I started to worry. And as soon as the sun completely disappeared behind the hills, I was full on panicking. I raced out the door and ran all the way across the village until I’d finally reached my uncle’s home. I banged on the door like a madman until he opened up. “Something’s happened!” I told him. “Father went out to gather herbs for dinner and said he’d be back soon. But he’s been gone for hours!” With a serious look in his eyes, my uncle grabbed my arm and the two of us took off in the direction my father had gone. I had accompanied my father several times throughout my life when he went to gather herbs, so I knew exactly where he would be. My uncle and I were practically exhausted by the time we finally reached the place my father should have been. “This is it.” I said, panting. “This is where Father looks for herbs.” My uncle nodded and pointed across the field. “You look over there. I’ll check this way.” We took off in opposite directions and searched everywhere for my father. But he wasn’t anywhere.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I heard my uncle call out, “Amal!” Heart pounding, I ran to him, hoping beyond hope that he’d found my father. But he didn’t. Instead, he found something much worse. When I reached my uncle, he pointed at a spot on the ground a few feet ahead of us. My eyes widened in horror as I took a few steps forward…and stared down into a dark hole that seemed to have no end. Though by the light of the rising moon, I saw that there was an end. Several dozen feet below, large, jagged rocks lay at the bottom of the hole. And so did my father. I only caught a glimpse of him before I stepped back, not wanting to see anything more.

I shut my eyes as tight as possible and clung to my uncle, who was still staring at the hole. Though he was quiet, I could tell that he was crying just as I was. “Look at that.” He said softly. Raising my head, I looked up to see what he was talking about. And my eyes widened even more. I hadn’t seen it before, but now I wondered how I could have missed it. Surrounding the hole…were burn marks. Dark, scary, vengeful looking burn marks that made it look like the earth had burned a hole into the ground and swallowed my father into it. Slowly, I shook my head, not wanting to believe it. “How could a fire have started all the way out here?” I asked quietly. My uncle didn’t respond. But he didn’t need to. We both knew how, and my eyes filled with new tears. “He said I didn’t have to worry!” I said angrily. “He’d forgotten about what happened and told me that nothing bad was going to happen!”

My uncle took a shaky breath and pulled me into him. After a long time, he said with solemness and grief, “The earth remembers what we forget.”