Jed had been walking for hours. He was tired, footsore and hungry. Ever since he’d decided he could not stand it a minute longer, Jed had been on the move.

The shouting, the accusing stares, the crying and him lost within the midst of it all. It was all too much. For months the tension had slowly built up inside him. At first he thought it must have been his fault but then he realized that his parents hardly even knew he was there. Unless of course, he tried to say something. Like he had that morning.

“For goodness sake, Jed, go outside! You don’t need to be always hanging around!” his father had spun round, his dark eyes flashing. “Your mother and I need to talk privately. This has nothing to do with you!”

Nothing to do with him? Really? It was his whole life, his whole world his parents were turning upside down and tearing apart.

His father’s careless, angry remark had been the final straw and with that, he grabbed his jacket and some money from his secret stash and fled.

He had long since left the city behind him, first taking a bus to get as far away as he could and then traveling on foot along dusty country roads.

It was dusk now and the evening star had just begun to appear, a faint shimmer, high in the heavens.

Jed was sitting at the edge of a field, his back against the gnarled trunk of an old oak, watching, his face drawn, as the last of the farm workers wandered away for the day.

He did not dare ask for help. They would want to know where he had come from, would want to send him back. They would say he was too young to be out on his own, so far away. But he wasn’t going back. No way.

Instead he sat and stared at the hill a short distance in front of him, as though willing it to give him an answer to his problems.

It was an odd thing, covered in short tufts of grass and rising up from the flat plain like some vast, ancient molehill.

The air around him grew cooler and he untied his jacket from around his waist and pulled it on. He needed to find a place to sleep. And he needed food. He’d eaten a few blackberries that he’d picked from the hedgerow, but they had only made him more aware of his hunger.

He sighed deeply and then blinked and frowned.

The hill appeared to be trembling – as though some great activity was taking place within it.

Jed rubbed his eyes and blinked again.

The sense of shivering, shuddering activity persisted. He gave his head a vigorous shake, trying to dislodge what must surely be a daydream – or a nightmare.

Hills don’t move…

Then it dawned on him. It must be some kind of earth tremor.

He leapt up – but wondered why the ground beneath him was not also shaking.

The tremor stopped and as Jed watched, a thin veil of mist rose out of nowhere and draped itself around the top of the hill. The moon was rising as the light of the last rays of the setting sun bathed the hill in a pale, luminescent pink light.

For just a moment the scene looked beautiful and peaceful…

Jed gasped, for as he stared, so he saw the form of an ancient beech tree rise up through the mist at the very top of the hill.

That tree hadn’t been there before! He was sure of it.

Filled with wary curiosity, Jed edged towards the great mound. As he moved closer, he saw a narrow path curving between the tumbled grey rocks lying around the base of the hill. It seemed to beckon to him.

Casting fear and doubt to the wind - after all, he said to himself, what was there to lose at this point of his life - he started slowly upwards.

Silence descended around him as the last calls of the birds died away and the veil of mist enveloped him.

Up he went, carefully picking his way until he emerged from the mist at the crest of the hill. What he saw took his breath away.

Before him lay a broad, flat expanse of ground. The air was clear, encircled by mist but not touched by it and before his feet, lay a series of vast circular paths. One path only, he realized, as he peered at it, absorbing its sinuous curves. His eyes followed the shimmering trail as it wound in concentric circles towards its center – to the place where the beech tree stood, outlined in the twilight.

Jed’s eyes traveled over the tree and he drew in his breath.

Seated, cross-legged at the base of the beech tree was an old monk in emerald green robes.

Jed stared, trying to quiet his pounding heart. As he did so the old man’s eyes snapped open.

He smiled at Jed, as though he had been expecting him.

“Come,” he said in a singsong voice, beckoning Jed forward. “Come, follow the path and tell me what it is that you seek.”

Jed frowned, what was the old man talking about?

“Come, come,” encouraged the monk, “walk in, walk. Leave your cares behind you, come and taste peace.”

Jed stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket and bit his lip.

Who was this strange old man and what did he want?

He narrowed his eyes and watched the old monk from beneath his lashes.

The monk laughed, his silken robes rustling as his belly wobbled in mirth beneath the fabric.

“There is no need for fear here, young master,” said the monk.

“Who are you?” asked Jed, his eyes never leaving the old man’s face.

The old man chuckled. “Do your eyes not show you who I am? I am what you see. An old monk sitting here waiting for you.”

“How did you know to expect me?” asked Jed, his voice edged with nervous suspicion.

“I know many things young master. Many.”

It was not a satisfactory response.

“What’s your name?” called Jed.

“Ah, my name. What a preoccupation your people have with naming things. Let me see,” said the old monk rubbing his hand across his chin. “If I remember correctly, they used to call me Luk Song San.”

“You don’t know your own name?”

“What is in a name, young master? It is but a label. But come, time passes – for you anyway. Come in to me. Follow the path, leave your cares behind, come and see the treasures that lie within.”

Perhaps the old man had food, thought Jed, his stomach rumbling. He seemed harmless enough. And friendly. Perhaps he had a house nearby. It was the prospect of good meal though that drew Jed on.

Hesitating at first, Jed stepped on to the path and noticed as he did so that it was laid with glistening quartz crystals.

“Yes, that is right, come in, come in,” intoned the monk.

The air around Jed twinkled, shone and grew hazy. It was as though he was leaving one world and entering another. Yet as he walked he felt his fear drop away, falling from his shoulders like a heavy burden that had been carried for too long. He moved inward towards the tree, following the circular path, drawn forward, his feet moving of their own accord. Above him, the full moon shone, illuminating his path and bathing the top of the giant beech in silver light. The further he walked the more life’s burdens fell from him – his parents’ impending divorce, the fighting and the name-calling that had been going on for so long. His terror at what would become of his family - of him - melted away along with his guilt – who should he support, his mother or his father? Was any of it his fault? It all mysteriously disappeared the further he walked along the circular path.

He felt as though he was walking in a dream.

And then he stopped as his feet bumped against something and looking down he found himself gazing into the smiling, upturned face of the old monk.

“And now tell me, young master, what it is you seek?”

Jed frowned a moment, puzzled before he said, “I want things to go back to the way they were.” His voice was quiet and strained.

In his mind images of the last few months flickered, tormenting him. He saw his mother sobbing and raging, his father pleading and shouting and leaving the house to go who knew where. And the long silences that sometimes lasted for days when no one dared speak. All the while Jed wanted to run away, to hide, to flee and escape the madness that had descended upon his world. Why could things not be as they had been before? They’d been happy then, the three of them. Life had been good and he had known he was loved and cared for.

He sighed and brushed away the tear that threatened to roll down his cheek and as he did so the sky above him flashed with brightening light and he stumbled as the ground beneath his feet shuddered.

His eyes opened wide as he watched the trunk of the old beech pull itself open, offering a doorway with steps carved from the earth and leading down into the hill.

Startled, Jed glanced at the old monk as the old man chuckled near his ear.

“Journeys and wishes, young master, often take us to foreign lands. Lands that lie within that we did not even know were there. But come, come, let us enter and you can tell me what it is that you want,” said the monk, gesturing for Jed to follow him.

“I just want things to be the way they were,” murmured Jed

The old man smiled, “The past, young master is not always what it seems.”

He led Jed down the steps and through the rich earth of the hill. As they walked Jed felt a great wave of peace wash over him. He felt calm and safe and the world somehow seemed full of infinite possibilities.

As they descended further, light appeared, growing stronger and brighter until, to Jed’s immense surprise, they came out onto a lush grassy plain. In the distance, majestic snow-capped peaks soared into the sky and nearby Jed could hear the gentle rush of a river calling him.

But the old man was leading Jed away to his left where a towering tablet of crystal rose up from the earth. It sparkled and shone in front of him like a giant screen.

“Let me show you some things, young master,” said the old monk waving his hands in a series of slow, flowing strokes.

Light flickered on the crystal screen and images glanced off its surface.

“Watch, watch,” smiled the old monk, nodding at Jed.

Jed watched.

And as he watched he saw snatches of his life, his parents’ lives, flash before him. He saw tears where he had never known there were tears, tears from so long ago. He saw sadness, old sorrows, where he had never dreamed there could be sadness. He saw despair in his father’s eyes, unhappiness in his mother’s face. He saw shattered dreams, longing and hope and then, as the images altered subtly, he saw joy. Now his mother was smiling, her face radiant, his father was laughing, happy and filled with fun. But he saw too that they weren’t together and his heart fell. They were happy but they were apart. And then he saw himself again, first with his mother and then with his father and he saw two other people whom he did not know – a man and a woman and he saw them smiling at him, ruffling his hair, laughing with him and he saw himself smiling and laughing with them.

His heart surged within him.

“Yes,” said the old monk, “the past is truly not what it seems. Come, come, young master, I have one final question for you.”

The old monk, chuckling quietly to himself, led Jed across the soft green grass to the riverbank.

“See the river,” said the old man, “it is always moving forward. It can never return from whence it came, always, it must move to the sea. Such is life. We can only go forward. Now let me ask you… If I would like you to go to the other side of the river – to that green and pleasant land that lies beyond, how would you do it?”

Jed looked about him – there was no bridge spanning the river and there was no tunnel running beneath it. As far as he could see the only way across the river was to swim through it, despite the rushing current which he felt sure would sweep him away.

“I guess I’d have to swim across… go right through the river,” he said to the old monk.

“Yes! Exactly so, sometimes we must go through things, allowing them to carry us forward to some other place. We may not end up where we expected, the current may pull us further along than we expected, but all the time we will be going with the river, moving forward, moving through…”

The monk looked at Jed expectantly, his head cocked to one side, his bright eyes on Jed’s face.

“Oh,” said Jed slowly, “I see… the river’s like life, isn’t it? We don’t always go where we expected to, but we go where the river - life - takes us.”

The old monk beamed at Jed, “Young Master Jed, you do me proud!”

“You know my name!” exclaimed Jed.

The old man smiled, “I told you, I know many things.”

“Who are you? Really?”

“I am what you see; an old man who knows many things. Some call me Seer, some called me Sage, many call me Wisdom… But come, come, Master Jed, you must return,” said the monk, leading Jed to the edge of the river. “But before you go, I have a gift for you,” he said.

From his rustling silk robes he brought out a small wooden tablet. On it was carved the path Jed had walked to reach the monk.

“Yes,” said the old monk, watching Jed’s face, “it is exactly like the path you walked to me. It is a labyrinth. It is your key.”

“My key?”

“Yes, to the worlds within. The journey may not be as dramatic next time, but each time you trace your finger along this path, you will be come within, to this place. You see, it will always be there for you,” said the old monk, “the answers will always be waiting for you here. This, you see, is the secret of the labyrinth – it guides you within and gives you the answers you truly seek.”

The monk pressed his gift into Jed’s hands.

“Now go, young master, the river beckons,” and with arms far stronger than Jed anticipated, the old monk pushed Jed into the flowing water of the river.

The shock of the cold made Jed gasp! He squeezed his shut tight, blinked them open and gasped again.

He was sitting in the field with his back against the trunk of the gnarled old oak tree! He wasn’t even wet.

He shook his head, frowning. It must have been a dream. He must have nodded off. It was hardly surprising; it had been an exhausting day. And then he glanced down. In his lap lay the small wooden labyrinth the old monk had given him.

It had been real! All of it!

He looked up and stared at the hill. It stood solidly silent in the moonlight and for just a moment, Jed felt as though it was watching him.

Behind him, he heard the crunching of feet over leaves and he spun around.

A flashlight shone in his face.

“What you doing out here, son?” the policeman asked. “Seems a chilly night to be out here alone.”

“Yes,” said Jed, “it is. I wonder, sir, could you perhaps take me home?”

It would be all right he knew that. Whatever happened, he knew he would always be loved and he knew his parents would be happy. It might not be the same, it would be different but it would probably be better.

Jed stroked the labyrinth’s rough surface and grinned to himself as allowed the policeman to lead him to his patrol car.

The End

Nicky Schmidt describes herself as a “yet to be published” children’s writer living a long-held dream. She wrote her first play at the age of nine and staged it on the back porch – it was set on roller-skates thus predating Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Starlight Express by several years – sadly it did not enjoy the same level of success! Nicky has recently completed a children’s fantasy trilogy and has started work on a new novel for teens. Born in South Africa, Nicky has traveled the world and spent several years living in the United Kingdom and Ireland (where she says there really are leprechauns!) before returning to South Africa and settling in Cape Town.

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