Pinemark Barrens
A Perilous Tale
By Emily Inglin
He stood on a rocky outcrop, staring down from the dizzying heights of Pinemark Peak. His hands were stained…. stained with blood from his side but also from his many foes that were strewn lifeless on the rocks below and behind him. He was the sole survivor of a band of brothers that had settled this cursed part of Ireland that had come to be known as the Pinemark Barrens, and in settling there, had taken the selfsame curse that had made this place desolate upon himself. He was a hunter, but never hunted… predator, but never prey. He stalked these barrens, unable to rest or to find relief from his never-ending hunt, until he either died or found the way to break the curse. His brothers all had committed suicide, unable to take the pressure of the hunt. They had jumped from the same outcropping that our man was standing on now.
He was tall, rugged, a real man of the wilds, but his heart ached. If wishes were money, he would be a king, for he had wished countless times for countless things. None of those wishes had been granted, for he was alone and still hunting this cursed wasteland. Now he was contemplating ending this life of pain by jumping from this cliff. Someone, a girl on a hiking trip, spied his stark form on the cliff- his black hair plastered with blood and sweat, his vacant gray eyes staring into oblivion, his all but black clothes ripped and bloodstained- and hurried to him. As he leaned forward and was about to fall, the girl made it to him and grabbed him from behind.
“What are you crazy?!?” She yelled at him, exasperated.
He fought her… he didn’t care. He wanted to die and be with his brothers. He felt a sharp pain at the back of his head then blacked out.
Brietta Manduka, as she was called, regarded the strange young man lying prostrate before her. She realized she was still holding the rock with which she had knocked him out and swiftly discarded it. She then knelt down beside him, brushing back a lock of fine brown hair, and rolled him over. Her sparkling blue eyes filled with worry as she saw the numerous wounds, which covered this unfortunate man’s body. She then quickly picked him up and half- carried, half-dragged him down the cliff and all the way to her truck at the end of the trail. He moaned as she lifted him into the cab and belted him in. She smoothed his hair and hushed him soothingly, then closed the door, got into the drivers seat, and drove to her small cabin in the Pinemark Barrens campground. She then dragged him into the cabin, laid him on her bed, and got to work washing his wounds.
Tristram McFarland, for that was our hero’s name, opened his eyes slowly. He then sat up abruptly, immediately regretting the action as pain shot down his sides and his head spun. He felt hands pushing him down and heard a gentle, feminine voice hushing him. He laid back down and got a good look at his caretaker. Brietta met his gaze and whispered.
“Who are you?”
Tristram blinked.
“My name is Tristram McFarland. Who are you?”
Tristram’s voice was hoarse and came from a throat that was so sore that speaking was torture, but he couldn’t help speaking to this strangely garbed yet beautiful lady.
“My name is Brietta Manduka.” She paused and looked the young man over before continuing. “What the heck were you doing up on that cliff and why were you going to commit suicide?”
Tristram had never heard these words before. “Suicide”, “what the heck”? What did they mean?
“What?”
Brietta sighed.
“You know, suicide.”
Tristram stared at her blankly.
“You don’t know what suicide is?”
Tristram shook his head.
“Haven’t the faintest idea.” He said, bluntly.
“What time are you from?”
Tristram frowned. “Beg pardon?”
“You know, what year?”
It clicked. “Oh, a year! I don’t know. Somewhere in the Dark Ages.”
She looked him over.
“That would explain your clothes.”
Tristram looked around at his strange surroundings. He looked at Brietta and inquired.
“What year is this? I don’t recognize these devices.”
“It’s the year 2008.”
Tristram’s mouth dropped open like a trapdoor.
“2008?!? I’ve been here that long?!?”
Tristram got up and walked quickly to the door to see strange horseless carriages and strange tents. He also saw the strange people of this place. He then looked at Brietta and said.
“Are all those people Britons?”
Brietta was the right person to ask for she was a lover of British history.
“No. They’re all tourists from America. You see a lot of things have happened since the Dark Ages.”
Tristram turned back to the window and replied, mystified.
“I suppose so. Are you a-a tourist?”
“Yeah. I’m here with my brother. He lives here. He’s British.”
“So you live in …that place you said…America?”
“Yep. I can take you there if you like. It’d be better than hanging around here, but I’d have to buy you some decent clothes.”
Tristram turned around and raised a quizzical eyebrow at Brietta. Brietta then ushered him away from the window.
“You don’t want anyone to see you. You look like the angel of Death in those clothes.” She walked him over to the bed and commanded, “Sit here! I’m going to get you some of my brother’s clothes. He’s just about your size.”
Tristram was looking out the window again when a pair of pants and a shirt was thrown at him. He caught them and looked at Brietta.
“Thank you.”
Brietta smiled.
“For what?”
He smiled back.
“For being so kind to me.”
“Your welcome. Go ahead and change in my brother’s room. Those clothes will have to do until we can go shopping for more.”
Brietta and her brother talked about Tristram and agreed that Brietta would take him back with her to America after summer break under the pretense that he was an exchange student from Dublin. During the summer, Tristram learned much about his new world, but he still fought the urge to kill that he was cursed with. What he didn’t know was that if he left Pinemark Barrens, the curse would lift one the first night of the full moon in the new land. If his sanity lasted until then, for in resisting the curse, he put stress on his mind. The longer he resisted, the more his sanity wore down.
Brietta was beginning to like Tristram, and she spent the days with him, exploring the hills. Tristram was an excellent guide, pointing out a certain type of tree or the hidey-hole of some night creeper. The nights were spent by the fireplace with Tristram relating stories from his past, but nothing was said about how he came to be here. Brietta also clued Tristram in on what had happened since the Middle Ages and Tristram listened attentively as she told him about things like the Renaissance, the Age of Discovery, and the Industrial Revolution. At the end of summer, Tristram was now familiar with this new world and prepared to enter it.
The day approached and Brietta and Tristram packed for the trip, once again going through the stages. They were going to fly home and Tristram was still unsure of flying. But, Brietta reassured him that she would be beside him all the way. This calmed him down slightly, but not entirely. Tristram looked at the cab that would take them to the airport and said, “You’re sure of this?”
Brietta rolled her eyes.
“You’ll love it! It’s a great sensation being above the clouds. Now come on! We’re going to be late!”
Tristram let himself be pulled into the cab by Brietta and soon he was standing in the terminal, waiting for the plane to be ready. He had earned some money checking people in and out of the campgrounds for Brietta’s brother, and he had used some of that money to buy proper clothes and Brietta had pulled some strings to piece together an identity for him. He told Brietta to hang out in the terminal and went to buy a snack and perhaps a trinket for Brietta. It had now become apparent to him that he liked Brietta, and he wanted to show it to her through little kindnesses and hoped that she would notice. He soon returned to the terminal with some coffee and a cinnamon roll for them to share.
As the awkward pair sat in the terminal, Tristram cleared his throat and handed her a hemp necklace with a British flag bead in the center with an amber bead on either side.
“Just a little thing to remind you of England, and to thank you for watching out for me.”
Brietta blushed as Tristram put the necklace around her neck. She smiled and said.
“Thank you.”
Tristram smiled warmly and replied.
“No. Thank you.”
The plane ride was pleasant enough, even though Tristram had a white-knuckled grip on his arm rests the entire time, and when they touched down in Manhattan, it was a whole new world all over again for Tristram. Brietta giggled with delight when she saw a man standing in the lobby with a sign that read “Brietta Manduka”, and she ran to him and embraced him saying, “Hi, dad! I missed you!”
Her father was much like her except his hair was cropped short and peppered with gray and white; and although he had an old wizened look about him, there was a mischievous glint in his eye that anyone other than his family or sharp eyes like Tristram would miss. The big man sized Tristram up and spoke to Brietta in a warm and quiet yet commanding voice.
“So, who’s this that you’ve brought back from the Emerald Isle. Boyfriend?”
Brietta snickered and pushed her father playfully.
“No, silly! This is Tristram McFarland. He’s an exchange student from Dublin.”
Brietta looked at Tristram and he shocked out of his daze and added.
“Yes, that’s me. Glad to meet you, Mr. Manduka. Brietta’s told me much about you. Um…Lovely weather we’re having today, isn’t it?”
Brietta brought a hand to her forehead and sighed ruefully, and her father narrowed his eyes at Tristram. Tristram had never felt so exposed in his life, but soon the mischievous glint returned to Mr. Manduka’s eyes and he laughed loud and wonderfully.
“Well, Tristram McFarland from Dublin. What do you say to getting the native’s tour of New York?”
Tristram smiled, liking Brietta’s father immediately.
“Why not?”
The week passed on uneventfully with Brietta and Tristram going to her school in the city, but Tristram’s dreams were getting worse. He had been having nightmares ever since he left Pinemark Barrens, and they were messing with his head. One night he woke up standing at his window with his sword in hand. He immediately dropped it like something that had burned him. He then ran his hands through his hair.
“Who am I kidding?” he mumbled ruefully to himself. “I’ll never be free of this curse!”
It was an evening like this when Tristram’s mind broke. He screamed awake, thrashing his covers off and throwing himself out of his bed. He was like a possessed man as he flew down the stairs of the Manduka apartment and proceeded with ransacking it. When he finished this, he let out a final shriek and crashed through the door heading for the streets. It was three days until the full moon, and if Tristram wasn’t brought back to sanity before then, he would be lost forever.
The next day found Brietta looking for Tristram, who had fled. He wasn’t hard to track for he had left a wake of destruction that started at her father’s apartment and ran all the way to Central Park. The N.Y.P.D. had formed a perimeter around the park to keep people out and Tristram in. Tristram was almost past hope, his noble face had been twisted into the crazed grimace of a lunatic and his hair and clothes were mussed and tousled. Brietta had to find him and stop him from being this way.
She pushed past the police and ran in before anyone could stop her, for she was determined to save Tristram from whatever possessed him. Her plan was to find an open space and camp there until Tristram found her, she would then try to talk him out of his madness and hopefully, save his life. She went to the very center of the park and set out her tent and supplies she had brought in her backpack; she then sat down and waited. The day passed. Nothing. The next day and the next. Nothing. It wasn’t until the night of the third day that Brietta heard shrieks and gunshots. The shrieks came from Tristram; the gunshots came from the police, who had decided to hunt this madman down. Brietta got up and waited, listening as the shrieks and gunshots came nearer. Then Tristram came careening into the clearing where Brietta stood as a cloud moved over the moon in the sky. Their gazes met, but there was no recognition in Tristram’s eyes, just fear and madness.
He rushed over to her with his sword and brought it to her throat, facing her out so as to use her to get away. Brietta struggled.
“Tristram! What are you doing?” She whimpered.
“Shut up!” He hissed into her ear, his voice distorted and hoarse from his shrieking.
She heard the police getting closer and, not caring about what would happen, turned to face Tristram. Their eyes met again for a moment, then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek, holding him close so as to keep him from moving. Tristram blinked and broke out of her embrace, his confused face revealing his sanity returned. He threw his sword down right as the first of the police ran in. He then spoke.
“Brietta…I…”
A gunshot shattered the night and Tristram grunted, putting a hand over his chest as blood started flowing from the bullet he received. Brietta cried out and ran to catch Tristram as he fell.
“No, Tristram! You can’t die!”
Tristram, gasping for breath, looked into Brietta’s eyes and said,
“I’m sorry it had to be you. I’m so sorry it…” He then slumped back into Brietta’s arms, and as the cloud moved away from the moon, Brietta’s tears fell upon Tristram’s still features. The policemen gasped as they saw a glow descend from the sky and settle on Tristram. They then heard a voice say, “I release you, Tristram, from the curse that has claimed you for so many years.”
The glow then left and Tristram’s bullet wound healed itself. Tristram gasped and his eyes flickered open. Brietta then held him close and wept for joy. Tristram then said.
“Umm….Brietta? I know this is a bad time, but…” He then held up a ring to her. She gasped and hugged him again, whispering in his ear.
“Yes.”
The two were married soon afterwards. A strange ending to a strange tale, but then again, if it didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have been able to say they lived happily, ever after.
The End
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