Ahh sibling rivalry, ’tis a bracing thing….
It reminds me of growing up with my dear brother Vlekki, we would often “duke it out” in the garden once a particularly competitive game of Grums had turned sour. Of course he was three years older than me and had all the physical benefits those extra years bestowed. I would increasingly have to rely on cunning and stealth to get the better of him.
One morning at the beginning of the war, dear Mumma came to us and told of how that afternoon we were to be moved to a boarding school in a safer shire. We were both very much aghast at the proposition but had little say in the matter.
Life in Thagworth school was abysmal, the senior master took an almost instant dislike to poor Vlek and I. Often for the least violation we would be summarily marched to his room for a severe beating. I fear Vlek for all his years, was dealt the most severe blows. Within weeks he changed, his normal air of confidence shattered, he began talking of strange things. He told me of his theory that he was the chosen one, The Messiah, and that his life here was a test of strength. That he must endure this test to become greater, to prove to the Almighty that he was worthy of his love.
Three days after Vlekki told me these things he was found by the grounds keeper. He had climbed a large oak tree in the night and leapt out from its branches into the yard. He was impaled on the railing at the entrance of Thagworth, strangely his arms had become transfixed in a sort of swan dive, both his wrists pierced by the gate’s iron pickets.