The Legend of Harper Goode  

By Maggie Knight

 

Harper Goode tried to slip his feet into his boots, at the same time as trying to wrap his thick winter jacket round his scrawny frame. If he hadn't reached for his woollen hat as well it might have worked. But it didn't. Instead his body began to topple backwards and with arms flailing wildly, he landed painfully on the flagstones. For a moment he lay there catching his breath, one boot half on and his hat still on the hook. There was a cold draught of air from beneath the door and he could feel it biting into his skin. He reached forwards with both hands to pull his boot on and stood up feeling rather foolish. He grabbed his hat and rammed it down over his ears. His breath misted in front of his face.  

"Where are you going?" asked a small voice.  

Harper groaned.  

"Go away Missy."  

"Where are you going Harper?" Missy slid her body round the narrow gap and closed the inner door quietly. "I won't tell. Promise." She licked her finger and traced a cross where she thought her heart was. Harper grinned in spite of himself. His little sister had placed her heart somewhere near her stomach. She gave a small shiver. "You'll die if you go out. Your breath will freeze inside your body and they'll find you with mouth full of ice." She looked up at Harper, her mouth forming a perfect '0'.  

"You're a pest Missy. Go back to bed."  

"I won't." She stuck her hands on her hips. Her long hair had been plaited for the night and hung down past her waist, yet she'd had the sense to pull on a pair of trousers over her nightgown and a heavy jumper. She might only be seven, but she knew the dangers of getting too cold.  

"I won't freeze. I'm going to see if any of the traps have been sprung." Harper fastened his jacket and found to his surprise his fingers were trembling. He pulled his gloves out of his pockets and put them on, but Missy was too sharp for him.  

"You're a liar Harper Goode. No one check's the traps in the middle of the night."  

"It's not the middle of the night, it'll be sunrise soon," he said, hoping to convince her.  

"Let me come with you. I know where you're going. Goode Hill."  

Harper snorted and shook his head. But it was already too late. Missy had opened the carved wooden chest beneath the coat hooks and pulled out a padded jerkin, followed by a second pair of socks and then a third. Once she had put them on, she found her boots and laced them up tightly. Then she took down her jacket and pulled her hat out of one of the pockets.  

"I'm ready," she announced.  

The night air took their breath away. Harper closed the door carefully; making sure the latch was firmly in place. Even with his gloves on he could feel the cold metal beneath his fingers. The moon was slipping earthwards, but he could still see the stars as they crunched their way down the narrow path between the house and the barn. They could turn left and walk towards the village or turn right and it would take them to the foot of Goode Hill. No one knew if the hill was named after the family, or the family were named after the hill, but everyone said that the fortunes of the Goode family were linked to the hill. Harper took hold of Missy's hand; they'd had so much bad luck over recent years he didn't want to add to it by letting his sister come to harm.  

Slowly they puffed their way upwards, Harper slightly in front so that he could help Missy. On a fine day he could run up the hill and down again in the count of five hundred, but as he counted in his head he reached one thousand and they will still only half way up.  

"...stop....Harper...just a moment." Missy let go of his hand. Her voice was muffled by the scarf she wore across her face. He shouldn't have brought her with him. Then she murmured. "Oh Harper, look Harper, look."  

She had turned to gaze across the countryside. It glistened in the moonlight. Ice covered the land, a million lights glinted. But there was no snow.  

"Do you want to go back?" he offered and she shook her head.  

"Oh no .... " she looked at him, "1 know why you're going Harper. It's to make Papa better," she smiled. "Come on, we want to get to the top before sunrise. That's when the magic works."  

"There's no mag... " Harper stopped. If Missy believed it, he'd let her. Papa was never going to get well, he slipped away a little more each day, the same way their mother had. That's why Harper looked after the animals and worked in the fields, a boy doing a man's work. Their money went on medicines that didn't work and he knew one day the sickness would take Papa, leaving them alone. Harper blinked and smiled. "We can try Missy, we can try. Do you want a piggy back?"  

"I'm not little anymore. I can manage." But she took hold of his hand again and together they toiled upwards.    

Harper's scarf was damp against his face, but at least his breath wouldn't freeze. He could hear Missy panting behind him and slowed down. This was madness, dragging his sister to the top of the hill in the freezing cold. He might not believe in magic and fairies the way Missy did, but he was desperate enough to climb Goode Hill in the moonlight because of a whisper - flowers that only bloomed at sunrise, when the snow fell. Flowers that could heal the sickness. So he'd gone out night after night, searching until he could no longer feel his fingers or toes and his lips turned blue - waiting for the snow to fall. Perhaps they didn't exist, maybe it was a story someone had made up, like Missy's fairytales.  

"Harper! Stop Harper!" Missy shrieked at him.  

He looked round in amazement. They'd reached the top of the hill and were almost going down the other side and he hadn't even noticed. He trudged back a few paces, looking up at the sky. The moon was waning. Disappointment jarred. There were no flowers to collect, it was just another stupid legend and he'd believed it. He shivered convulsively.  

He wanted to go back now.  

"Come on Missy, or we will freeze out here."  

She shook her head. "Not until sunrise. Please Harper. Let me stay." She pointed to the east and he thought he saw the faintest glow on the horizon. He pulled her closer to him, wishing he could protect her from the future. Knowing it was too late.  

Slowly and steadily the golden orb began to appear and the skies around it grew brighter, with hints of red and orange, almost as if it was on fire. His breath caught in his throat at the wonder of the new day.  

"It is magic Harper, it is." Missy nodded excitedly at his side. She flung her arms out wide as if to embrace the sunshine and in her winter coats and boots, she started to dance, swaying to unheard music. "Come on Harper." She called to him.  

Suddenly he laughed. Why not?  

So together they danced as fingers of sunlight stretched out to touch the top of Goode Hill. And as they did, the snow began to fall, huge flakes of it. Missy blinked and smiled.  

"It's snowing," Harper whispered. He couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to look down at the ground. Missy was still dancing, holding out imaginary skirts and dropping a curtsey. Her footsteps left smudge marks on the rapidly growing carpet of white and his eyes were drawn to them. His heart began to tap out a faster drumbeat. He glanced down quickly, his face flushed with excitement. But there was nothing, nothing at all, just a scattering of snow. His heart slowed and he clenched his fists tightly. "Let's go Missy," he sighed. "There's work to be done. Cows will need milking soon."  

He held out his hand to her, but as she skipped forwards, her foot slipped and she tumbled over in the snow and lay still. Harper ran to her, his heart as heavy as a millstone. He picked her up gently and she smiled at him.  

"Can you smell the flowers?" she asked.  

Harper shook his head and Missy pointed to the ground. And there, where she'd fallen, a patch of blue had sprung up. Even as they watched it began to spread out across the hillside, a rippling tide of petals and the air was filled with their scent.

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Judges comments: A well written story with good use of dialogue. This is a good result. I was left wondering at the end if their father did recover as, although the flowers appeared, this question was left in the air.