Me and my family moved to this town some years ago when my sister and I were barely two years old. It was such a beautiful site and back then there was no town to behold. Back then it was just what was left behind from a fire, it was my parents who built up the town, mostly on their own. They built this town because of their sadness to the view, how desolate it appeared and how hungry for new life it viewed. And so, here I am now, in this more or less unnamed town, just down from the small city we moved from.
I think I must have been about five years old when this happened, I remember waking up to my little sister crying whilst peering through the window at the nearby mountains. My mom looked at them and said she saw an amazing site and we all need to go see it closer. I decided that morning to be rebellious, I suppose. I wish I hadn’t, or I would still have them. I guess I do kind of have them, but they don’t believe I’m their son and brother.
So, here’s what happened after they went out to see the mountains. They never came back. I looked outside for them and called for them and waited awhile. I must have waited for hours, maybe even the whole day. I remember when I went outside the mountains looked pure silver, there was no source of light as both the sun and moon were nowhere to be seen, and the town my parents had been building up felt eerie, as if there were a million people there yet no one was there at all. I’m not sure how more to describe it. After waiting some time longer, I made the cautious trek back to the city on my own. It was there I stayed for four months, not only recovering but giving the search team any information I could. Those grueling four months are what cause me to regret leaving now.
When we finally returned to get some evidence from where I lived, there sat my parents with my sister. Just as I had seen them the night prior to losing them. I was so excited to see them that I almost started crying, but tears of happiness turned to fear and sorrow as they asked who we were.
“Mom, Dad, you remember me, don’t you?” I tried to no avail. I looked at the officers of the search team pleadingly, however, they were as confused as I was if not more.
According to these people who resembled my family, I’d woken up one morning and called out to them after witnessing a beautiful site on the mountains. I begged them for permission to go out early and take a closer look, as much as they tried to convince me not to, they finally caved and told me to return before sunrise. They had been sitting in this room since then, waiting for me. Except, I was right here, and they were right there. I was their son, them my parents. It didn’t take long for a search team to go into the mountains themselves to hunt down my real parents or solve this mystery, however that team never really returned. They did return of course, but it wasn’t them. When they came down, they didn’t recognize me either, they informed my parents they never found me and that they had to consider the worst and start the process of moving on. They went up looking for my family, came down losing me.
It’s been a few years now; I still talk to the family that resembles my own. My sister is okay, she misses her brother but thankfully is okay with the idea of me being her brother. My parents say they only talk to me because I resemble their son so much and think he would be like me if he was still here. I guess I got adopted by my alternate family. I tried sharing my story to some organizations, however when they make the hike up to check on things they came back down altered just as my family and the first team had been.
Sometimes, I wonder if maybe if I go up there, would I meet myself?