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“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.”
-Emily Dickinson
When civilization is stripped from the Earth and humanity is at its darkest, what is grieved the most? In late autumn, this story begins on the hills of Scotland in 1601. From life to death, a secret is revealed amongst a hidden lake, beyond the groves of the Caledonian Forest. The golden apple, ripe and succulent, a pair of lips taste their last breath of mortality and the question of life is answered. For love holds the power of immortality and the loved remain unable to die. Question, dear reader, what is remembered when all is forgotten?
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Alish heard the enchanting voice. It called out to her from where she stood at her windowsill. She gazed at the tall evergreen that sat in the middle of the castle grounds, isolated and distant from anything around it. The dulcet voice hummed in her ears. Alish… Alish, come to me. It whispered. The words sounded clear in her mind, but they seemed to be drawing her to a spot from beyond the wood line of the forest just past the tall pine. Maybe she was mad. Alish had been hearing this voice inside her mind ever since she received Malcolm's gift.
The light of the moon that radiated through her window illuminated a yellowed sheet on her desk. She considered burning the half-melted candle affixed to her desk from its own fallen wax to write, but nothing would soothe her, not even the entrancing voice which tonight been her escape from thoughts on her impending marriage. Suddenly, a flash of iridescence caught her eye.
She gazed into the approaching darkness toward the evergreen, but there was no light coming from it. She shook her head and looked to the ground. She saw the watchdogs patrolling the castle grounds, and then she noticed a thick vine that connected to her window. Had it always been there? Alish wondered. Before her mind had a chance to understand what her body was doing, she had begun to climb down the vine. This was her way out of the marriage. If she disappeared, Emer would become heiress and would be free to be with Malcolm. The idea of freedom for herself radiated warmly through her body, even in the chilly, autumn night.
Once halfway down, the vine proved to be slippery and Alish struggled desperately to grip it. As she descended, the vine grew thicker and her hands could no longer wrap around it. Her fingers burned as she struggled to grasp the wet, smooth surface of the plant. With a stifled scream, she fell. Weightless, her body plummeted to the ground. She watched as the Earth raced toward her. In an instant, she hit the hard, rocky surface of the courtyard. As she hit the stone, a sharp pain radiated through her chest and she could feel her body warming around the spot. Her mind went blank. The dogs were barking. She knew if they reached her, she would surely die, for they were not pets and were trained to attack anything outside of the castle walls. She tried to scream, but nothing. Her body was numb. Everything in Alish’s world disappeared, except for a mesmerizing golden light and the color of strawberries.
***
Alish awoke resting beneath a tree, warmed under a thick woolen quilt beside a glassy lake. The sun’s rays formed a golden outline against the horizon. She looked around. Surrounded by forest, she noticed that the trees nearest her held ripe apples. A thin band of sunlight arched around the trees like a domed enclosure, making the red hue of the delicate fruit appear golden.
Where am I? Alish thought. She stood. Her body felt weak and her chest throbbed dully, but she felt unusually calm. She walked to the base of one of the apple trees, the enchanting dance of sunlight on the golden apples, enticing her.
“I would not eat that, lassie.” It was a man’s voice behind her. She whirled around.
“Who are you?” She asked the red-headed man who had appeared in front of her. She stepped back, appalled by the angry scar that traced around his eye and down his cheek. The welt was blood-red and protruded awkwardly from the rest of his smooth skin.
He smiled, “Lachlan.” He extended a hand to her, but she did not return the gesture, still tracing the wound with her eyes.
“Where am I?” She asked, trying to ignore his disfigurement. He dropped his hand.
“This is where I come in the evenings… when the glow from the bonnie sun reflects off the apples just right.” His voice sent a cold chill down Alish’s spine, his words seeming not to come from his lips.
“How did I get here?” She asked, trying to shake away the feeling of unpleasantness.
“I brought you.” He answered vaguely, but stepping closer to her.
“Why?” The unease retreated.
“Did you want the dogs to get you?” His head cocked to the side and she could see the boyish dimples in his cheeks. They seemed to contrast with his rugged features. How old was he? She wondered. She felt a warm breeze whip through her nightdress and hastily tried to keep the sheen fabric from billowing upward. She felt her cheeks flush and her ears sting with embarrassment. Why had she not changed before she left? The feeling of the smooth cloth reminded her of Malcolm.
***
Alone at last in her bed-chamber, Alish held the silk fabric between her fingers. The nightdress had been an inappropriate gift from her betrothed. Malcolm McNair was from the adjacent clan, opposite the forest from the McKinney’s. Alish and Malcolm were to be married and unite the Caledonian lands of Scotland. Alish shut her eyes tightly, abhorred by the thought of a life as Malcolm’s bride… a union without love. She had always been fond of the McNairs. They were like a second family to her, but she did not belong with Malcolm. If only the McNair’s second child had lived, maybe she could have been happy with him. It didn’t matter whom she married from the McNair family, as long as he tied their clans together, but Alish had to be the one to marry into the McNairs, for her sister was not the daughter of Laird McKinny and was only Alish’s half-sister. She quickly erased the thoughts from her mind and draped the fabric over her shoulders. The dress fit perfectly, but Alish only felt the weight of unhappiness as she gazed at the evergreen from beyond her window.
***
“Why should I not eat the apples?” She asked ignoring his question.
“One bite and you’ll be sworn into a life of misery.” She heard him chuckle. His face was youthful, but his glassy eyes looked haunted.
She stared into them, not saying anything else. His wild eyes somehow reminded her of her sister, Emer. How was that possible? She thought.
***
Alish remained still with her thoughts for a few moments before she heard the door to her bed-chamber creak open. It was her younger sister, Emer.
“Alish?” Emer’s soft voice echoed around the stone walls of the room. She came to sit beside Alish. Alish noticed the streaks of red on her cheeks and the swollen skin around her pained, golden eyes.
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“Emer? What is it?”
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“Alish,” Emer’s voice cracked, “please do not marry Malcolm. I’m begging you.”
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“Emer… I have to…”
“He doesn’t love you!” Emer cried, her haunted eyes sparkling beneath the salty tears that filled her lids. Emer and Malcolm were more suited for one another. Emer had loved him since childhood and he loved Emer. He would never love Alish.
“It’s not about what we want Emer! Our clans have a treaty.” Even though she was stung by her sister’s cruelty, Alish calmed her voice. Emer was fragile right now.
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“Alish…” Emer sobbed, “I will die if you marry him.”
“Don’t be rash, Emer. You will not die.”
“I will, Alish! You don’t understand. Malcolm is my heart and if you marry him, you’ll rip mine from me. My body cannot live without its heart.”
“Emer, I have no other choice. If I were allowed to deny him, I would, but I cannot do that to our clan.” Alish tried to reason with her, but it was no use.
“If you just didn’t exist, I could be with my beloved,” Emer said angrily, her eyes blazing with desperation. The words stunned Alish.
“Would you rather I be dead, Emer? Is that what you want? That is my only escape from this agreement.”Alish screamed.
***
“What is that mark on your face?” Alish asked, shyly.
He didn’t answer, but his face looked tortured. He turned away from her and the retreat of his haunted gaze made Alish yearn to move closer to him.
“Let me see it.” She boldly moved to close the gap between them and lifted her hands to his shoulders to turn him back to her. He allowed this, but didn’t speak, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. The mark was shaped like a calligraphic E. It almost appeared to be carved into his skin from the tip of a quill. The shape seemed so familiar to Alish.
***
Standing by her desk, Alish glanced at the letter Malcolm had sent with the gift and picked it up. Inscribed on the front was Malcolm McNair, his eloquent handwriting betraying his status. Her finger traced the letters of the note. She studied the characters and marveled at his ability to create such beautiful markings. She especially admired the way his E’s curled around themselves. She felt a sting in her side. Malcolm was a decent man and she loved him, but not in the way that she so desperately needed. And so terribly did she want to feel that way about him.
She placed the letter upon her desk and regarded the untouched linen page beside it. She ran her fingers across the textured fabric, feeling the coarseness of the innocent page. How beautiful the blank sheet was in her hand, not yet defined by words, its life unblemished by the black ink and unscarred by the rough scrapes of her quill. Soon enough, though, she thought, the clean surface would be marked and the fine page ripped by the tip of the quill. She felt a tear streak down her cheek and, before she had time to lift her finger to wipe it away, the tear fell. It splashed the page with its salty destruction. She watched the water soak into the page and stain the spot where it landed. The darkened wetness tore into Alish’s heart and made her more unhappy than she thought possible. Her sadness grew into anger and Alish tipped the bottle of ink onto the ruined page, watching the arms of black liquid crawl along the surface. Once more, she heard the voice call to her, Alish. She heard the door of her room creak open.
***
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Alish lifted her hand to touch the swollen mark, but his gloved fist caught her wrist and held her hand away. She looked into his eyes. He didn’t have to tell her that his pain came from wherever he received this unusual wound.
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Without knowing why, she moved closer, intoxicated by his melancholy expression. She felt his warm breath on her face. He stepped back, still holding her hand, but the action drew her desires closer. Why was she so drawn to him? Alish ignored her thoughts. He made her feel safe in this unnatural world.
“How did you get that scar?” Her question pierced the silence. He winced.
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“It happened a long time ago.”
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“How did you get it?”
He hesitated before answering. “An accident.” He didn’t meet her eyes as he spoke. The sun had lowered, just above the horizon line. Lachlan straightened. “We better get going.”
“Going where?”
“To your home. Your family will be missing you.”
“I’m not going back home.” She said, dropping his hand in shock, but immediately regretting her action. As soon as she had let go, her chest began to throb and a chilling breeze crawled through her hair. Alish was nauseous with pain. “Maybe I should go home.” She said as she collapsed.
***
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Alish sat up. She was sitting in a small bed, engulfed in a mound of blankets. This was not her room. Lachlan walked into view and moved to a table carved from a tree growing through the back wall.
“Is this where you live?” He jumped back, startled by her sudden question.
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“So you’re awake.” He said, regaining his composure. “Aye, this is my hovel.” He chuckled. The sound of his voice warmed the air in the small room.
“Why are we here? Why did you not take me back.”
“Lass, you collapsed. Was I supposed to drag you all the way back to your home?”
The throbbing pain returned and Alish shot her hand up to rub the spot on her chest. She stood from the bed and walked to Lachlan. “Should we go now? I’m afraid I don’t know where I am.”
“Maybe in a while. I enjoy your company.” He smiled, but Alish felt cold.
She wanted to be closer to him. Somehow, she knew he would warm her. She felt an urgency to leave, but it was too dark outside. She would never find her way through the woods. She sat at the table. It was covered in small candles, ceding to the fire that hugged their wicks. She idly watched Lachlan slice carrots. She wanted him to speak, but nothing came from his lips.
“Why do you live out here?” She asked hesitantly. He looked up.
“I have to.”
“Why is that?” She asked, trying to decipher his words.
“I have t-” She watched his lips smash together as the knife sliced across his flesh. He pulled his hand away quickly, but there was nothing to see. Alish stood and grabbed his hand before he could hide. His hand did not bleed. He did not look as if he were in pain, but the moment she touched his him, she didn’t care. She didn’t feel the need to question anything while she caressed his unmarked hand.
“I can explain.” He said as she looked up at him. His mouth twitched, but his eyes looked pleased.
“I don’t need you to,” she said, enthralled by his eyes. He smiled devilishly.
He brought Alish’s hand up to his face and rested it against his scar. Alish felt her mind grow dark until she could only see a golden light. From the light, emerged an image.
***
Alish stood on the bank of the lake watching a young boy with fiery hair giggling and splashing in the waves. He was with an older similarly, red-headed boy. The older one couldn't have been more than a few years more mature, but he was dressed formally, unlike the toddler who played in bathing clothes.
“Lachlan!” The older boy called, “Stay here. I'll be right back.” The toddler shook his head and returned to slashing. The older boy ran off into the trees.
Alish focused her attention on the toddler who began to go further and further into the rough water. She watched as he waddled after a floating piece of driftwood, no doubt thinking it was magical treasure only a child's mind could imagine. She watched as the boy ventured further out and was engulfed by the water. She heard the boy scream as he desperately tried to swim.
“Malcolm, help!” The toddler called.
Malcolm? Alish thought. Alish waited helplessly, hoping the boy would emerge soon. He did. The sky grew mysteriously dark and a wave formed unnaturally in the clam lake, leaving the toddler sprawled and bleeding on the rocky shore. His face gashed and his body limp. Alish wanted to call to the boy but knew it would be useless. Suddenly there was a flash of light and the toddler and Alish were surrounded by the golden orchard.
***
Alish slowly pulled her hand from his face and looked into his eyes that were for some reason softer. She stepped back from him, feeling a sense of serendipity washing over her.
“Was that you?”
“Aye.” He looked relieved, but his voice was hoarse.
“What happened back there? Is Malcolm McNair your brother?”
He walked to a stool and gestured for Alish to join him in a seat. She sat and stared at his silent face as he intertwined his fingers nervously. He stared down at the beautifully carved wood.
He looked to her. “My brother was Malcolm McNair.”
Alish shot from the table, unable to accept what she already knew, “No! Malcolm’s brother died. You can’t be here.”
“But I am.”
“How?” Alish was calm.
Lachlan stood and walked out of the door and into the darkness. Alish followed, but once they were in the orchard, it was impossibly bright as if it were day. Lachlan walked further into the trees, stopping to look at their trunks every so often. When he found the one he was looking for, Lachlan stopped and looked back at Alish.
“How did you get here?” Lachlan questioned without a hint of sarcasm.
“You brought me here.” She answered, mystified by his vagueness.
Lachlan walked behind the tree and Alish moved with him, noticing the carving of an L on the trunk. She watched as he stopped in front of a large stone, blackened and covered with lichens.
Alish read the stone,
Lachlan Beathan McNair
Son of Broc and Lidith McNair
Born
September 24, 1580
Died
June 11, 1600
Nar cuimhneachain gu sìorraidh
“That can’t be yours.”
He stared at her with his once again haunted eyes.
“If this is your grave, how do you stand here with me?” Alish suddenly realized the ridiculous nature of her question and could not believe she had asked it. This place felt so right. How could anything he said be untrue? She thought.
He pondered her statement for a moment. “Come with me.” And he walked further into the trees.
Alish followed, confused by her emotions, and allowed him to keep the lead. She watched him closely. He walked through the golden apple trees gliding over the roots in an unnatural grace. He stopped in front of another tree, this one much larger than the other’s, covered in apples that seemed to drip, enticing Alish to reach up and eat one. She resisted and looked at the trunk. There was another carving. This time it was an A. She sprinted around the tree and yet again there was a large gravestone, but this one held no words.
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“Why is this one blank?”
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“You have not decided yet” he answered.
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“Decided what?”
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“I cannot answer that. It is your choice.”
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“How am I supposed to choose from things I do not know?”
“If you figure out the other choice then you have already decided.” He stepped closer to her and placed his hand atop of hers. She felt a rush of euphoria at his touch, no longer feeling the dizzying pain in her head or the throbbing in her chest. Alish didn’t understand her need to kiss him, but every move she made felt right. And in that moment a part of herself no longer stayed with her. She knew she could never have that piece of herself back, for it was his and she finally understood her sister’s words. She could not live without her heart.
Suddenly, Lachlan’s warm embrace ended and when Alish opened her eyes, Lachlan had vanished. Alish understood the reason, she had to make her choice. She knew her options now and looked up into the tree that was marked for her, at the swollen apples. She watched how the fruit twinkled in the light of the golden sky. She reached up and plucked one from the lowest branch. She held it and saw that the apple was truly gold, it wasn’t just a trick of the light.
Slowly, she raised the beautiful fruit to her lips. She could find him, but would that be what he would want? Eternity with her? Could she go back to Malcolm after all she had learned? Could she return to her family knowing Lachlan was out there with that piece of herself? Could she live without that vital piece of her existence, as her sister had said, her heart? She could smell the alluring sweetness of the magical fruit. Alish felt the throbbing pain once more and her chest burned more than it ever had.
***
Much time had passed since Alish first endured the secret orchard in the forest of Caledonia. How long had it been since she had seen the man with boyish dimples and strawberry colored hair? She had felt her mind grow heavy with knowledge and wisdom. How different would her life have been had she made the other choice on that enchanting day? After all this time, she knew she had made the right decision. Lachlan had left the choice to her.
Even after she had left the orchard, she could not bear to return to her home and destroy her family’s happiness by not marrying Malcolm, nor tell them why she wanted to leave Scotland. The land of her home was too painful a memory of her family and her brief time with Lachlan. She felt comforted knowing that her family would have allowed her sister to be with Malcolm and their clans were at peace once more.
More than once, though, she had tried to return to the orchard, but could not locate it. And now, mysteriously, she found herself in the exact spot where she knew she had been all those years ago, nothing but golden trees surrounding her. How she had gotten there, she did not know, but she knew why she was there.
She saw the magic golden line of the sun peaking over the horizon and the sparkling golden fruits in the trees above her. She walked to the copse where he had revealed his gravestone to her. She wanted to read his lyrical name one last time.
Lachlan Beathan McNair
She walked to her tree Lachlan had shown her so long ago and ran her fingers across the rough bark. She glided behind the tree and stopped in front of the blackened stone and smiled.
Alish Màriri McKinney
Daughter of Fergus and Galiene McKinney
Born
January 28, 1584
Died
October 29, 1601
Bha i daonnan gaol air
Alish… She heard the dulcet voice chime from behind her. She recognized it as the same voice that had lured her from her windowsill the night before she fell into his enchanting world.
Alish turned from the stone and saw Lachlan, his curly, red hair outlined in the sunlight, his eyes reflecting the golden light. He grinned as he walked to her, his body almost translucent. She stood as he reached his hand to her bodice and unlatched the buttons revealing her swollen and red E-shaped scar.
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