I am.

WIP!!!


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Act one: The wagon wheel, and other broken things

Winter would soon give way to spring. It twitched in my veins, writhed in my gut, and tore at my senses- the energy of the spring rushing me in raging stampedes in the form of hazy visions of sunlit fields of freshly hatched poppy seedlings shivering and quivering under the lucid sky’s gentle caresses. Imaginary solar rays pricking at my flushed cheeks, nuzzling into my flesh until they broke under the skin and warmed me to the very core. My stomach lurched where I lay, as I swore I caught the lingering scent of daffodils in the chilled night air. I shivered in the bed, my whole body blooming in red, like the soon to be roses at these premonitions of seasonal blossoms.

I touched my lips and tentatively licked my fingers. They tasted like winter. I buried them under the covers and pressed them against my stomach to warm them, icy cold fingertips melting against hot skin. I gasped lightly and jerked my hand away. My brother, Laurence, stirred beside me and I grimaced. I begged silently for him not to wake up. He groaned lightly and began to roll over, sheets tugging across the bed. My eyes crashed closed, as I attempted to slow my breath and feign slumber. I could feel eyes on me, prodding me and tempting me to open my eyes and shatter the illusion.

He reached out and pinched my face, causing my nose to scrunch and curl. “You, are a horrible actor.” he commented dryly, obviously not surprised that I was awake, “ ‘ave you been all night again?” I opened my eyes slowly, like a guilty child showing his dirty hands to an angry maid. “No. I just woke.” I said curtly- But the dark rings around my eyes, and my dreary expression quickly betrayed the truth. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips- and my heart twisted in my chest. My body instinctively curled into a small ball, as I buried my nose into my knees.

I heard him sit up to check how heavily our parents were sleeping. A beastly roar from my father, and the quiet troubled mumblings of my mother seemed to be enough to assure him our words would be only ours. He fell back down flat, and I ventured to raise my head and meet his gaze. “Are you upset?” he questioned me in a stern tone. A voice that reminded me that my lies were as good as naught. I responded only by shoving my face back into my knees and nodding.

“Why?” he asked. I didn’t answer, and he moved on to play the cards of the game I’d become so familiar with over the past few years. He threw darts into the dark, hoping that one of them would hit me straight in the soul. Of course, he was oblivious to the fact, that to me this was more a childish game of picking out his most reasonable offering, and vomited it back up as an excuse. He took in a deep breath, and his body tensed as if to say, ‘let the game begin’.

“Do you miss your friends?” he tossed to me.
“I didn’t have any friends.” I whispered, and I threw the conversation back.
“Are you scared of the trip?” he said, trying to point out the obvious.
“That is not it.” I avoided the question, and sent it right back. I had managed to peel my face up, hands wrapping around my calves. I jerked the blanket up over my shoulder and to my ear, reveling in the sudden warmth of my own body heat that lingered on the sheets.
“Are you afraid of a new place?” he tried, as if sticking his foot in a river to test it’s temperature. I mentally chuckled, watching him stumble about my mood like a drunken man trying to unlock a door.
“Of course I am.” I spat a little bitterly, irritated by his arrogance to my emotions. My toes curled around the fabric of the bedding, and I fidgeted slightly.
“Are you afraid of dying?” he broke bluntly, pitching a curveball at me. My eyes widened a few millimeters, though his remained bland and bored- closing in on me like an injured, cornered animal. The thought of death slammed into me like a rogue bull, and it’s horns pierced my heart as easily as a knife through butter.
“Mm.” I said, as the ball whizzed past me. He nodded and shook his head, hand inching out to ruffle my hair. I squinted at him through messy blonde locks, before raising my own hand to agitatedly brush his away, and flick the hair from my eyes.

He stared at me in silence for a long time. Our eyes did not stray from each other’s, and I slowly felt myself sinking into the raging ocean of crystal blue waters raging in his irises. They glittered like diamonds in the stray lunar beams that bounced over his face. I suddenly felt very inferior to this growing male before me. Like the flowers in my mind, he was blossoming into a beautiful flower- And a dashing, handsome man. And he was leaving me behind, a homely scraggly boy desperately tripping and crawling in his brother’s shadow. I was like a lost puppy trying frantically to, and failing pitifully to follow in the wolf’s large footsteps.

I was small and homely, short and gangly. I was shy and antisocial, and failed completely in most social situations. I’d been beat up several times at school, once so badly my mother was afraid she’d have to call in a doctor. I hadn’t any friends, only my endless consciousness and self to confide in. My brother was the opposite of myself. Tall and manly, with a sharp attractive face and a head of clean brown curls. All the women in the town swooned for him, and all the men envied him. But he’d never done anything even mildly questionable in his life, and all people could gossip about was who would lay claim to him first, and what a fine young man he was turning out to be.

I can’t say I’ve always felt this way. I love my brother, I really do. Never before has a malicious thought toward him even dared meander near my mind. But that doesn’t stop me from occasionally wishing he wasn’t so much well… Better than I was, am, and ever could be. When I was young I had been so proud to share a family name with him. To stare up at him, or have him throw me up onto his shoulders- and say ‘That is my brother!’. A blessing that transformed like straight out of a horror novel, the shaming curse now burdened on my small shoulders.

I heard his breath, as flipped back over. “Sleep for now. You will feel better with a night’s rest and a hearty breakfast.” he mumbled, as he drifted back toward slumber’s clutches. I whimpered silently. I wanted him to stay awake with me, lest he not and I fell back into the shadows. I worried that perhaps one day they would grab hold of me so tightly even my brother wouldn’t be able to rip me from it’s wretched claws. My hand once again ventured upward, but paused on my chest. I felt my heart, desperately trying to assure myself it was there. I shook lightly, as my fists closed around the linen fabric.

I was cold again. But I knew deep down, that this was a coldness that no amount of blankets could fend off. I hugged myself and clung desperately to the mattress, as I tried to keep from falling off the face of the Earth. A particularly loud breath emitted from my brother cause me to wince and jerk. I found comfort only by disconnected myself, and thinking of empty bucket pails and the blackness of an everlasting winter. Sleep eventually drew close and overcame me, swallowing me whole.

When I woke, I was distressed to find my brother’s self absent. I sat upright, only to discover that indeed my whole family was missing. My youngest sister, Anne, and my parents had disappeared just as my brother. I tumbled out of bed, sheets and all, stumbling to the door. I threw myself out, staring desperately around. The hallway was empty. Tears pricked at my eyes, panic riveting down my spine. I hurried down the stairs, half sprinting, half tripping outside. The cold hit me like a brick wall.

The wagon was gone as well. I shrieked in terror, my knees betraying me and turning to jelly. I couldn’t move- Frozen to the spot like the icicles bolted to the roof. And just when my eyes threatened to overflow, I felt a hand on my shoulder as I was spun around. My brother stared down at me, confused. He pet the top of my head slowly at seeing my expression. Had Anne not been on his right arm, I had no doubt he would have easily scooped me up as well.

He whisked me inside, scolding me for traveling outdoors in this weather in my pajamas. When he implored what in the world had been going through my mind, I only gave him the slightest of smiles, and earnestly told him that I loved him. For a moment he seemed somewhat touched, but then he resumed his role as elder sibling and clucked his tongue, telling me I was short a few marbles. But I figured I’d rather be thought of as a loon, than to risk telling him that I’d thought they’d abandoned me.

I sighed at my own foolishness, as he showed me the clothes he’d left for me on the bed, the clothes I’d so foolishly overlooked on my previous explosion. I pulled them on quickly, as he tried to wake Anne, so he could tie up her hair. She clung to him like a fly to a rotten apple. Of course, she was more a rotten apple than he was. A little brat if you asked me. She stuck her tongue out at me when my brother had turned. I made a face back, crossing my eyes and puckering my lips.

She responded by pushing up her nose and rolling her eyes up. I pulled down the bottom sockets of my eyes, and opened my mouth wide, letting my tongue loll out. My brother turned at exactly the wrong time. I tried to let go of my face, but he still caught a glance at it. “My lord, help us. It appears you have lost quite more than a few of your marbles.” he sighed, as I gaped angrily. I hid my flushed face in my hand, chewing on my lower lip. Anne giggled and stuck a finger up her nose- A very ladylike gesture.

My brother shoved my pajamas in a bag and threw it over his shoulder. He took Anne’s hand and I tailed after them. He put his cap on as we exited, huffing at the bitter temperatures. “Where is mum and pa?” I asked, and he gave me a disapproving glare. He reached over and popped me on the top of my head. “Mother and father are at the carpenter. Apparently some of the local boys thought it would be amusing to break the wheel of our wagon.” he said, his tone taking on a vicious bite, “I am glad my brother would never thing to do something to foolish and immature.”

While he had veiled his intentions in simple conversation, he and I both knew very well that this was a warning. I pouted at him and sulked, upset that I had yet to earn his trust. I hadn’t gotten in trouble since I was young, and that was quickly beaten away with a few quick lashed from my father’s belt. I glanced over at Anne, as she trudged through the snow. She looked like me, I suppose. The same dirty blonde hair, matching chocolate covered eyes and rosy cheeks. Of course, she wore it better than I ever could.

Wagons were bustling to and fro, and I occasionally lagged behind when a particularly interesting family or person caught my eye. Once I’d seen a man with one arm, and had been staring so intently my brother had to backtrack and snatch the back of my collar, tugging me so roughly I gasped, as he scolded me for staring. I apologized furtively, and eventually he just sighed (He’d come to doing this a lot as he grew older.) and told me that he was sorry for being so violent in his chastising my actions. Then he released my shirt and rubbed my back, as I basked in his attention for a few moments.

We arrived at the carpenter a few moments later. My mother scooped up Anne, beginning to coddle her, rocking her back and forth. My father gave my brother a friendly slap on the back, as they went to inspect the wagon. My mother glanced at me, bidding me good morning and telling me to make sure I was ready- We would be leaving soon. Then I was alone again.

Being alone is a horrible thing. Even surrounded by these people that hustled through the streets, even surrounded by my own family, I was alone. I huddled up and stood strong, determined to not let my loneliness get the better of me. I was a miniature tower in the snow, eyebrows furrowed toughly, arms stiff from the cold, and my chest inflated so much with the breath I held I feared it might burst.

My brother had once glanced over to me, but only made his way over a few moments later. He peeled off his scarf and wrapped it gingerly around my neck. He then pulled off his hat and set it right on top of my head. It was too large and fell right over my eyes, like a blindfold. He chortled freely and took it back, sliding it back on his own head. He arranged the scarf like he was fluffing a pillow, until it brushed against my ears. “Must you insist on being so strange constantly, Gregory? Honestly.” he scoffed, a smirk spreading on his lips as he completed his makeshift attempt to keep me warm, “That will have to do for now.”

My emotions were torn. Was I really that strange? Was I imagining things, I asked myself. Was it bad to be this way? Well of course it was. But was it any better to live your life in ignorance to the faults and problems of one’s own life, as well as society as a whole? I thought not. But then again, I told myself warily, you think a lot of things. I pushed my melancholy mind blabbering and carrying on aside, as my fingers felt along the edge of the scarf.

It smelled like him, I found as I breathed in deeply. Even the bitter stench of winter couldn’t choke out the familiar scent of my sibling. It was of basil, baking bread, and of summer twilight. I smiled and closed my eyes, and for a moment it was summer again. I was lying in the fields of buffalo grass that littered our used-to-be home, staring up at paling sky and listening. Listening to the wind in the trees and the bugs on the ground- The birds in their nest and my own breath in the air.

Anne ran back to me, and eyed my scarf in jealousy. Mum, or Mother as my brother had told me to call her from now on (As it made the family seem perhaps more educated than we truly were.), had tied her bonnet on, and she looked like a little doll. My hands instinctively went to the scarf, as I watched her grubby little hands twitching to reach up and try to snatch it. “Don’t. You. Dare.” I spat each word with more venom, narrowing my eyes at her. She glared back at me with equal vehemence.

We stayed like this for a long time. But I refused to let down, and eventually she huffed and skipped off toward mother for attention. I sniffled a little in the cold, dragging my feet toward where my brother and my father were making finishing touches on the wagon. My hands twisted around my pants awkwardly, as I coughed to make my presence known. My dad raised his eyes and spat. “What you want, boy?” he demanded. My eyes strayed to the ground, as my mouth fell open to speak. But the words seemed to anchor themselves in limbo between my throat and my lips.
“Don’t just stand there and act like a fish out’a water! What you want? And boy, I thought I taught you to look people in the eye when you spoke to them.” he growled. Part of me yearned to retreat back to my own space. But somewhere, the scarf around my neck managed to kinder a small spark of flame. It burst free and burned up my throat. “I want to help.” I finally managed. My father gave me a look in disbelief, before he broke out laughing so loudly a few people turned. He was mumbling, as if what I said was a joke- ‘boy wants to help’ he grumbled, ‘only get in the way!’

My body blushed wholly, and my throat tightened like a brush snake around a field mouse. I hiccupped a little, and sniffled. I began to creep away, shivering in shame and my own worthlessness, but my brother caught my shoulder with a strong hand. He smiled falsely down at me, seeing that I was upset. I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve, still refusing to look up. He gave me a few coins., as he used his hand to nudge my chin up. “You go buy some witch hazel, some flour, and be back fast. Got it, Gregory?” he said, and I nodded, “Good boy.” I beamed so widely at the responsibility, and smidgeon of praise that my cheeks ached, as I took the money. But I decided, that it was a good hurt. I spun on my heels and I was off, faster than any steed we’d ever had on the farm. My lungs urged me on, as my body urged forward like a well oiled machine.

I found the store relatively easily. I wobbled in, wheezing. The man behind the counter was sipping at a mug and reading a book. I couldn’t read all too well past the bible, and the few books that we owned. But of course none of these books particularly caught my fancy. But that was to be expected, of a boy my age. The man looked up, and smiled warmly at me. He was chubby but not fat, with a graying half mop of hair, and a scraggly beard. I inched forward slow as a snail, like a hunter on a starved panther.

“No need to be all mousey with me! I don’t bite, ’les you be one of them hungry fingered rascals that keep filching me goods!” he said, laughing loudly, “But you hardly look like a trouble maker. What you need?” I told him and he guided me around the store, handing me everything I needed. When I handed him my money he counted it and frowned. Then he sighed and shrugged, patting me on the back. “Well, you’re a bit short, but no need to worry. I’ll let ya’ slide this time. But I’m sure your folks’ll be itchin’ to get out of this blasted town, so off with ya’. Git on, now.”

I smiled and thanked him quietly, scooting out of the store. The flour was heavy in my arms, but I managed to get all the way back to the wagon with only dropping it twice. The packaging was a little dented, but nothing too bad. I turned the corner, panting once again from my trip back. I trotted back to my brother like a hound with a prize duck in it’s jowls. I dropped the goods in my brother’s lap, and waited for his approval. I was sure that if I had been a hound, my tail would have been wagging up quite a storm, out of self-satisfaction. My dad and my gaze crossed for a split second, and I had the splendor of knowing that I’d proved him wrong.

My brother handed me a cold biscuit with a bit of jam on it. “You certainly got there quick, didn’t you?” he prompted, and I nodded enthusiastically at him. He knew how to work me like a sculptor works a vase. He knew what I so desperately wanted and needed, and he fed it to me in small spoonfuls, never giving me more than necessary, always leaving my stomach growling for the pinch more he refused to give.

“I ran. The whole way and back.” I boasted, grinning ear to ear. I could tell he was acting more impressed than he really was, but I didn’t mind at all. And he didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t mind, so after a few more moments of my boasting and his congratulating, I excused myself to the wagon to eat. Proud of myself, I sat on the back of the wagon, swinging my legs and nibbling on the edge of the sweet roll. When I finished it, I clapped my hands together in an ‘all in a good day’s work’ type fashion.

After that I went and tended to the animals. We had two oxen, a cow, a horse, and a chicken. My father had refused to leave his prized horse at home, insisting that it would aid us in hunting along the way. My mother argued back that it would only make us a target for bandits. But my dad had then turned around and refused to acknowledge her opinion any further. We would be taking a wagon train of eighteen, my brother told me. Then he squeezed my shoulder and told me that this was a new start. That I could be anyone I wanted to be.

I thought about that for a very long while. Who did I want to be? I had always been told to be myself, and to be happy with myself. Well, I had been trying at that for years now, and I’d yet to find myself any happier than I’d been the days before. But I didn’t want to not be me, or then again, maybe I did. This thought made me feel so disgusted with myself I almost kicked the chicken. But instead I went and found my mother, and nuzzled into her shoulder for awhile.

She scolded me for being so clingy, but secretly I knew from her light wavering voice that she liked when I came to her for comfort. Her first son, her pride and joy, was growing up and would very soon leave her completely. And even with Anne, she knew soon enough I would be gone too. So she wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pecked me with a sweet kiss on the top of my head. She told me about all the wonderful sights we would see on our way, and all the new people I would meet. When I told her I didn’t think anyone would take a liking to me, she only laughed, and told me that I was just like the spring, she was sure that I would blossom into something wonderful soon enough.






Act two: It hurts to grow up
Rickety scritch scritch.
Rickety scritch scratch.
Scritch rickety scratch.

It’s got a soul and voice of it own, this wagon. We’re near the end of the train, and I’m inside. I’ve been lying here pretending to nap for an hour now. My father’s on the horse, and walking alongside the wagon except me. I’ve found myself a comfortable spot on top of a small crate to curl up like a cat. My nose is pressed into the canvas covering, and I can barely make scent of the linseed oil. I’m asleep but I’m not, here but invisible. I can hear every word my family’s saying- But they don’t know that. It’s just small talk, and the occasional hum of my mother playing with Anne. My brother makes a joke about riding the oxen rather than walking the whole way. My mother and Anne laugh loudly. I decide that now is the best time to wake up, so I stretched and groaned loudly.

I managed to hop out of the farm wagon. My mother looked down at me with a special glint in her eye. I can tell she feels young again, the fresh air in her hair, and the dust kicking up behind her feet. “Bored on the first day, are you! Well you’d best get used to it, we’ve got a long way West! You made it to Independence from Iowa! You shouldn’t have a problem now!” she said. I ignored her and allowed myself a look around into the open field. It was still cold, but the ground was barren of snow. We must’ve left a bit before the middle of march- A tad early but my father declared that we’d rather face the cold and crowds.

The real problem of course was for our oxen and animal. But there was barely enough grass on the ground that they could get by if they tried hard enough, I suppose. And at least now we wouldn’t have to worry about being caught in winter hell later on. As my dad put it, we were ‘plowing through’. Of course he never mentioned anything about the safety of his family. I couldn’t help but think that if he’d have to choose one of us to lose, that I’d be the first one on the chopping block.

Eventually I began spotting things on the side of the road. When I pointed them out to my brother he only laughed. “Some people just want to take their whole house with them. And when they can’t, they can’t do nothing but cast it out. We have no worries as of yet, father is very smart when it comes to these things.” he assured me, and we played a game of spotting things out in the land. It kept us occupied until the objects grew sparse. Then we talked about small things, little kid things. Sometimes I wanted to tell my brother that he didn’t need to treat me like I was young, and that I could understand ‘adult talk’. But I knew that he wouldn’t believe me. So I decided to be pleased enough with talk of colors and birds, and how badly the oxen smelled.

By nightfall I was nodding off as I walked, a zombie of the trail, and my feet screamed at me to take a break. My brother showed no discomfort, so I tried my best to be strong as he was and continue on. But eventually I broke down and asked him how much longer we’d be walking. He sighed and told me a good long while, and that perhaps I should just ask father to ride on the back of the horse with him. I shook my head and dealt with my aching feet, straying closer to my brother than before.

We stopped around six, just before dusk fell. I watched from a small distance as the train of wagons curled around like a snake in a coil. The animals were herded inside the center of the coral, and everyone settled down to begin making preparations for the next day. I snuck around the outside of the wagons, listening to people carry on about their aches and pains. By the time I returned, the fire was going and my mother was trying to make some biscuits over the fire, as well as cook enough bacon to feed us all. I could tell it wasn’t enough to fill me to the brim, but I knew well that rationing now would be smarter than running out of food later.

My brother sat down on top of a small stool we‘d brought, a grim look on his face. I made my way to him quickly, plopping down and pulling my knees to my chest. My chin fell on top of my knees, as I rocked to the left so I could rest my head against the side of his hip. He reached down and scratched my head gently. “What happened?” I asked. He sighed for a moment, looking down out me as if debating whether or not to tell me. I gave him a small nod, trying to show him I was mature enough to handle it. He closed his eyes, and spoke slowly. “A girl a bit younger than Anne. Strayed too close to the wagon and got careless. Tripped right in the wagon’s path. They’re going to bury her now. Or, what’s left of her.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just said how sad it was, and laid by head down. I ate my dinner slowly when it was served to me, thinking about the little girl. It was like when I had sat on the edge of the cliff’s a bit away from our home. I only realized how foolish it was now, of course. It was amazing, and frightening how one inch could really mean life or death. How the smallest decision could make or break everything your life revolves around. How a small snip at a thread can cause the whole tapestry to unravel. My dad and my mom were talking with each other, and later on my brother and father settled down to play cards.

Anne of course, came to me for amusement. And the only fun she saw and me, was to wring me of every drop of despair I had in my body. I was lying down feeling sick to my stomach, when I felt her poke me. I jerked up and glared knives at her. She acted innocent, shrugging when I hissed at her. “Oh for lord’s sake Anne, there’s no one else here, I know very well it was you.” I said, yet she refused to listen to logic and continued on. Whenever I would lay down, I’d feel her jab me in the gut. And as soon as I would sit up, she would be off about like she hadn’t done a thing- Twiddling her thumbs and batting her eyelashes.

At one point the stabbed me with her particularly hard, but I had been prepared. My hand snapped out like a cobra, and caught her wrist. I jerked her as hard as I could, as she fell over me and onto the ground with a flump and a cry, like a shot bird. There was no way that I had hurt her, more startled her, if even that. But she began to shriek and wail like she’d lost an arm. Crocodile tears ran like acid down her cheeks, as she screeched for mother. Mother came quickly, tripping over her skirt tails as she scooped Anne up and cuddled her to her bosom.

“Gregory what in lord’s name have you done to Anne?!” she yelled, as she glared at me like I were scum of the Earth. I vainly held my hands up to my chest as if to defend myself. A few short syllables fell from my lips as I blabbered incoherently. As much as I tried to explain to her that I had dealt her no wrong, the words refused to come. Anne beat me to it, with lies of me hitting her after she’d only asked to play for while. I finally broke free with my own story, though it went unheard as my mother berated me with scolding. Meanwhile my sister acted teary eyed, giving me cocky little smirks whenever mother wasn’t looking.

Eventually my mother left and told me I was to go to bed immediately. This honestly wasn’t such a bad punishment, considering the fact I was planning on going to bed soon anyway- But the fact that I had been so unjustly judged, punished for my sister’s immature game and later blatant falsities, only to get me in trouble, made my whole body shiver with rage. I fell down flat like a fallen giant, only to hear her mocking giggle a few moments later.

She teased me for several minutes, while I remained silent to her provoking. She was foolish hunter pointing knives at the injured wolf. Suddenly I reared up, as I slammed my fists on the ground, and the world shivered under my fists and wrath. “You deserve to be crushed under the wagon wheel for your wickedness.” I spat vehemently. The moment I said it I know that I regretted it. My feelings were strong, yes. But spiteful? Definitely not. She was still my sister, even despite what a bratty little witch she was.

I watched as the train collided with the ground, and rolled over the ground with a sickening crash. Anne didn’t cry again. Instead she stared at me for a long time, refusing to unbind her stare from my own. Her eyes spoke many things to me- Hurt, anger, and realization. As if she finally empathized with me, yet hated me for it. I didn’t stand down, though. I wouldn’t grant her such privileges. She left wordlessly, stomping her feet and tears pricking her eyes. I flopped back down with a troubled sigh, and fell into a fitful slumber almost instantly. I woke just as tired, if not more than the previous night.

Severalweeks later, I was fully accustomed to my life on the road. You wake up, yoke the animals and get a move on. You walk and walk, shuffle your feet as you try your best to keep yourself entertained while you drag yourself along. The days went by horribly slow, inching along like a snail across the window pane. Spring did come, though the splendor I’d hoped for was only crushed by the reality of a chain of very bland events that lacked the magnificence I had expected. But the grass did spindle it’s way upward, and my family was thankful for that.

I suppose I should have been excited to go on ‘such an adventure’ as my mom had taken to calling it over the past few day. I’d seen many things over the beginning of our travels. But none of them sparked my interest, though I’d become rather good at faking it to please my mother. When we had passed by blue mound, I had mocked a few good ’ooh’s and ’ah’s, before retiring to playing number games in my head to pass the time. My brother would later tease me for my overly exuberant reactions to the landmarks, yet I refused to heed his playful remarks.

Dinner was calm now. We all were convinced that things were going well, and that perhaps the journey wouldn’t be as hard as we’d expected. But none of us voiced this allowed, afraid we might perhaps would jinx ourselves and encounter more treacherous misfortunes later on. My sister didn’t bring up what I had said, but she’d made a very clear point of avoiding me, as well as the wagon. If I tried to approach her she would huff up her chest, stick up her nose, and stride away. Part of me was surprised that someone so small could hold a grudge for such a lengthy time. The other part of me wasn’t complaining that she and I kept our separate distances.

Rivers would have to be the scariest part, I’d say. A bunch of guesswork, pull a card out of the deck and hope you’ve landed the maiden of luck. God forbid you pull the wrong one, and suffer the consequences of rushing rapids and furious currents. Occasionally or wagon would get wet, and we’d have to lay things out to dry. But we decided to count our blessings and be glad that we only had to fret over fishing out the occasional skirt out of the water, as opposed to a lifeless body.

We were waiting now, my father grumbled to me when I’d implored our camping at Alcove Springs, waiting to cross the Big Blue River. My dad told me it was beginning to flood, and this was causing trouble with many of those wishing to cross its icy depths. So the area was congested, and we would have to wait our turn to cross. I didn’t mind. My brother and I spent the time venturing out around the wooded area and wrestling, or just lying around talking. Talking about everything, from food, to our new home.

We got news that we would be to go in a few short days, and to be prepared. The night before we were to leave, we tightened and bound everything tightly down. I was nervous, as this would be the first major river we’d have to cross. I sat beside the fire we’d let, and warmed my hands until the stung with the heat of being burnt. Only then did I creep away, only to find that the heat continued to simmer under my flesh. I broke into an icy sweat, kneading my temples with my fingers as I tried to talk myself out of going into another attack.

I fell to sleep a good while later, my brother not yet returned from his capering about the large mass of people. He said he was going to meet some fur traders, but sometimes I wondered if he wasn’t just out looking for pretty ladies. I wouldn’t have blamed him. But it seemed everyone’s mood here had soured with the wait to cross, and he wouldn’t have had any luck anyway. I stretched out under the blanket, and yawned widely. Then, there was nothing.

I woke up to someone gently shaking my shoulder. I sat up to meet my brother’s shadowed face. My jowl fell open to gasp something at him, but he clapped a hand over my lips faster than lightning, before I could so much as mutter a syllable. He waggled a finger at me, placing it over my lips as he removed his hand, shushing me. I obediently remained silent, as he beckoned me to stand up. I did, and we were off. He tugged me along like a limp rag doll, not pausing for explanation until a good while later.

“Thought you’d like to see something.” he whispered, glancing nervously around. I could tell it was late. There were now specks of fire through the trees, so most, if not all of the occupants were either asleep, or gone. He led me through the dark with a firm hand on my shoulders, as we left the path and stumbled through the underbrush. I had to jog to keep up with his long-legged strides, as we threaded and navigated through trees and rocks. Once or twice we’d hopped a stream, until we reached our destination.

Normally it wouldn’t have been very awing, the modest falls. Only a weak rush of water managed to tumble of the carved rocks, tumbling into the springs below. I reckoned it was a good dozen feet up, gurgling in a welcoming tone to us. “They only fall in spring, and early summer.” my brother told me. Even though we were alone, he still spoke in a low voice. As if perhaps the trees that loomed above us would perhaps try to eavesdrop on us, and share our secrets. My brother looked down on me, his warm face illuminated only by the lunar rays that reflected off of his marble-chiseled cheek bones.

“This is the beginning. Can you feel it?” he asked me. For a second I didn’t understand what he meant. The beginning of what? Another day? Another twenty-four hours to drag my self through- And for what? A good night’s sleep, and then off the the daily races once again! No rest, no rest for the tired and poor. His hand closed painfully tight around my shoulder. “This could be the start of anything, Gregory. I know so. I’ve never been so aware of it in my life. This is the biggest chance we’ll ever get, Greg. Make the most of it. Make the most of you life.” he told me. I looked up at him with eyes filled with confusion. He only laughed sympathetically, and pulled me down to the spring’s edge.

“Naomi Pike Falls,” he told me, “It is beautiful, is it not? A meager memory by day. Astounding after nightfall. Do you know how many men have stood on the edge of these waters? More than we will ever know, Gregory. And what do they do?,” he stopped and sighed in exasperation, as he rocked me a bit back and forth. He looked down on me, swallowing loudly. “They stare on, and comment on how nice it looks. A hollow remark, before they pick up their goods and move on. How oblivious we as mortals can be. Oh, Gregory. How I wonder and wish to see all the wonders of this amazing world we live in.” He breathed in deeply, and I copied this gesture. I could catch the flavor of clean water and blooming forest on my tongue, and swallowed subconsciously.

I was still unsure of his ramblings. While passed through my ears like a summer’s wind, a few sentences stuck right to my heart. A little voice in the back of my head told me that they were important. How even just a few words spoken from the soul can mean miles more than a whole book filled with visages of emotions- Speaking so eloquently and laced with flowery poetry, until you’re fooled into believing that the book actually owns a true meaning. But in reality, it is nothing more than soul deprived text and a waste of ink. And the important words, these are lost to the winds of time and the acid of self-important tongues and cloudy memories.

Laurence kneeled down to my height, and kissed the top of my head. “You and I are the same, Gregory. I too can sympathize with your plight, I know- Oh god how I know the tortures of being captured and held hostage by one‘s own mind. Not all of your problems I can guide you in, however.” he said, tapping the top of my chest. My eyes followed his fingers, as I stared at where he had touched. “Follow it, and it will lead you home. Wherever home may be. Whether you find it in wood and cement, or in the arms of the one whom you love, when you find it, you will know. Life is hard, Gregory. It hurts to grow up.” he said, his brows drawing together. His arms wrapped around me, and he embraced me tightly.

He held me like he was afraid to let go, like maybe he would tumble right through the ground if I wasn’t there to anchor him down. And perhaps, perhaps he would have. I shook gently, feeling the threatening of a sob welling in my throat. I hadn’t an idea why, but my heart ached at his words. His voice cut me like a blade, shards of my being fluttering to the ground around me. I scrambled to the floor and tried desperately to piece myself together, as the rest of me fell apart.

“I sense death in our future, I do. I see it in my dreams, and I feel it in the air. I can hear the hooves of death’s stallion beating against out path… I can… I can even taste it- …” he trailed off, “Gregory. Don’t lose faith like I did. Promise me that.” I looked up at him for the millionth time, and I saw nothing. I reached up, and touched his face. Then I winced back, as if his cheek had burnt me. I stared at my fingertips, then my gaze rose up to his crumbling face. He was fading, and I could see it. He gripped my shoulders roughly, and I whimpered a little. “Gregory… Promise me. That no matter what happens, you’ll make sure you keep searching, searching for home. For me.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about. For a moment the thought occurred to me that he was crazy. But I quickly banished that thought far from my mind. I nodded silently. “I promise.” I choked out. Thoughts rushed through me in torrents, washing my mind blank and filling it to the brim with questions that I doubted even truly had answers. I stared up into Laurence’s eyes for a long time, trying to decode his cryptic speech. Was he insane? Something told me yes. But what was insanity really? If deep thoughts and premonitions, paranoia and he fear of death were calling cards for a demented psyche- Weren’t we all at least a little bit crazy? Surely so.

It’s funny, really. So often had I looked at my elder brother, and seen only the strong man I knew I would never me able to be. And this haunted me like a bad demon, perching on my shoulders and cawing at me with insults and torments- breaking my ego down to the very core and devouring it wholly. But as I watched- as his mask fell to the ground, and he shed the cocoon he’d so skillfully constructed, I saw many things. And if I truly did see anything, for that split second, it was a reflection of myself. A weak child, shivering like a naked pup abandoned in a lonely snow drift. And I sympathized with him, but more so for his dignity.

And then he was back. He let go of my shoulders, as if surprised at himself. He took a few steps back, to the water’s edge, and stared down. I mimicked his actions, staring into the small mirror of water below us. The waves distorted our faces, blurring the image like a poorly made pane of glass. “Forgive me. I just… I sense it.” he said, brushing his hair out of his face, “I don’t want to be back here…” I nodded in understanding. I reached up and for once, I was the one to pat him on the back. He looked down, eyes apologetic. I smiled, and he smiled. He chuckled, wiping his nose. “You just wait. You’ll outdo me one day, and I’ll be able to nothing but blink into the cloud of dust at your heels and wonder what in lord’s name happened- and where my little brother has gone.”

There are some moments in my life I look back on, and I realize have made all the difference. This, I knew right away, was one of them. This was the foretaste of something awful. It left a bad scum in my mouth and mind. It brewed in my stomach like a monster, thrashing and turning until I wanted to vomit. My brother laid down in the grass, and so did I. Seconds passed, minutes crawled by, hours flew past, centuries wheeled on- Yet for us the world was frozen and time allowed us peace. For a few moments, just a couple minutes, I was happy. Despite my worries and my fears, my whole body swelled and reveled in the emotion I had chased after for so long. The feeling that slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, tumbling away from me into the life’s cruel gusts.


He was crazy. And so was I.








Act Three: Faith

Today, was the day. The day we’d be crossing the Big Blue River. I woke in a cold sweat and a hot mindset. I couldn’t stomach breakfast and lost it to the bushes. Our turn was soon. It came all too fast and yet not fast enough. My brother didn’t bring up his previous break down, nor his dreams of death riding on his coat tails. I was wearing his scarf, for good spirits. I sat on the edge of the river, running my fingers over the woven pattern. My father teased me for it, telling me to stop clinging to my brother like a baby to a security blanket. I ignored him.

We approached the river cautiously. It was too deep to try and ford. Right over my head, as my father said. The ferry was still dangerous. If anything it was just a large boat, I supposed. My parents had saved up extra money, just for ferry costs. But rumors had begun to circulate that in some places this fee had inflated up too sixteen dollars. Enough to buy another oxen! But for now we risked wasting a bit of money in the name of safety. To many of the people here, we were naïve greenhorns. And one stupid mistake could make us fish food.

I boarded the ferry second to last before my father, and clung to the wagon anxiously. And then we were off, slowly inching our way across the river. The whole vehicle shook and wobbled under my feet, making my stomach swerve and my gut thankful it was already empty. My sister wandered over to the edge of the ferry- Too close. I hurried over, trying to ease her away. “Anne be careful. It is still very dangerous, especially for someone your size.” I said, as she punched my arm away. I took a few cautionary steps back, growling in my throat as she defiantly approached the edge again. “Anne!” I yelled, ready to yell for mother and father. They were preoccupied tending to the raft and our goods, as was my brother. And plus, I deemed this a good time to show Anne her place. I was her elder. Thus, she was to obey me.

“Anne I swear on my grave if you don’t-” I began, as she stuck out her tongue to interrupt.
“Or what!? You gonna throw me under a wagon wheel?” she spat like a sprayed cat, her fur ruffling up as she arched her back and flexed her claws at me.
“Anne, please. It’s no sense in getting hurt, come on.” I tried to usher her back toward the center. But then I felt her hands on me.
“If I deserve to be crushed under our wagon, you deserve to drown in this river!” she screamed. And then she pushed with all her force.

A combination of both land legs and surprise cause me to lose my balance. I shrieked as I fell backward, squealing as I tumbled over the edge. I hit the water like a stone wall, my screams immediately choked out by the water that shoved itself down my throat. I fought my way to the surface with a few desperate kicks. I couldn’t swim in the slightest. Panic found it’s way into my veins, as adrenaline surged through my body. It spread through my flesh like a raging wildfire, setting every organ, every limb, every sense ablaze.

I heard a few screams from my mother. I tried to screech back. I only got out the word ‘help’. Water filled my stomach and my lungs, as the currents knocked me under with an invisible fist. Horror leaked into my system, as I fought for the surface- And my life. Occasionally my feet would hit the ground, and I would push up. But I would get a few wheezing breaths, before I was dragged under again. I couldn’t swim, and the river was only getting worse.

The thought occurred to me that I would probably die in this river. It wasn’t the fear of death, of the lost future that I would never have, or the hurt of missing my parents that made me wish to weep. It was the fact that this death was welcome. Would it really be so bad? For a moment I stopped struggling. The water pulled me under again, and I didn’t fight back. It clung to me with freezing claws, refusing to let me leave it’s watery grasp.

I felt no pain. It was there, but I was oblivious to it. I spun around and around in the water, doing acrobatics like an angel in the sky. I was flying, and sinking all at the same time. The water rumbled and grew darker. A few bubbles of air exploded from my lips- The remnants of my life, I supposed drearily. I stared down, up, who knows? I saw death, I saw heaven. For perhaps a moment I wasn’t in a river of icy water, but trapped in a tunnel of soft silk and warm feathery wings, that caressed my form, my body, and my soul all at once. Warm hands intertwined around me, and a chorus of voices rang out in perfect melodic harmony. ‘Welcome home, welcome home’, they sang to me, in a tongue twisted with pain and perfection.

And then there was light. And air. My lungs betrayed my wish of death, and greedily sucked in. I breathed, as my brother screamed at me. “Gre-” he was pulled under, as was I. He kicked us up. I was sobbing now. My tears were lost to the rapids. “Swim, Gregory! If you want to live, swim! To the bank!” he ordered. I tried to help. But my legs were weak, and so were my arms. I was useless. Completely and utterly worthless. Something tightened around my neck. I thought that perhaps I was being choked by the hands of the river itself.

But it was my brother, desperately attempting to remove my scarf- His scarf from my neck. I helped him, and he threw it to the bank. The first time it didn’t snare, and he howled in anger. The second time however, it did snag a branch that extended into the water. He tugged us over quickly. We both grabbed onto the tree limb, like a bee in a puddle to a floating leaf. He heard me wailing and weeping. I was rambling, and I couldn’t stop it. It came up again and again, as I purged my body- or frantically tried to remove the rubble of death from my mind.


The branch groaned, and swore. So did my brother. We both knew, and we both dreaded it. The branch was not strong enough to hold us both. And dragging ourselves inland would mean risking tearing the branch right from its roots. My brother looked at me. His hair was matted down, and his clothes were soaked. He reached up and stroked the side of my face. He smiled at me and I screamed. I screeched so loudly that it rumbled in the heavens, and shook the ground just as fiercely.

Faith.

That was the last thing he said to me. And then he was gone.









Act Three and a Half: The Calling

Another step. Just another step, and you’ll be closer. They wouldn’t have left without you, they couldn’t have. Would they? Leave you behind like you don’t mean a thing- Just a piece of garbage. But that’s all your worth. You’re the reason he’s dead. It’s all your fault! You’re the scum of the Earth. You should just lie down and wait for the vultures to pick the meat from your bones. But not even a vulture could stomach a meal so disgusting as you! You aren’t even good enough to be vulture food.

It isn’t my fault! It’s all her fault! If she hadn’t pushed me, none of this would have happened! She’s the devil. A incarnation of everything evil and nasty about this world. I hope she lives with it the rest of her life. The shadow the flickers in her peripheral vision- that will be his soul, haunting her. It will be the demons of guilt and past idiocy. Idiocy that is irredeemable, and the memories of what has been lost. And I will be there. I will be there to remind her. Every breath she takes, every blink of her lashes- I will be there to remind her of what she has done. I will be the voice in the silence, the whisper in the stark night air. She will not forget. I will not let her forget what she has done.

I will be his vengeance. I can feel his breath on my lips, his stride in my steps. My legs are bleeding, and my chest feels crushed. But I am void of pain, filled only with wrath and determination. I will not let her remain unpunished for the his death. My brother’s death. “Laurence…” I gasp, clutching my chest as I fall to my knees. It hurts so much… Too much. I wheeze and I scream into the paling night. I’ve been wandering for a long time now. I had no idea the river had carried me so far down stream. I’ve been jerked from reality and cast on my own. And I… I’m afraid of being alone. Terribly afraid.

The silence is too much for me to handle. It leaves my mind room to wander. I’m terrified… That if I let it wander- I might lose it. The voices I hear are not my own. They do not speak my language, nor language at all. They gurgle and hiss like a toad, and croak at me. I clap my hands over my ears and shriek. “Quiet! Quiet! Heavens above, kill me!” I plead with the wilderness. Let a bolt of lightning strike me where I lay- Put me free, out of this misery.

I sob into the dirt. It marred my face, and my blood stained the ground. I think my arm is broken. But so much more is shattered beyond repair that I doubt I’ll ever be able to recover from this trauma. No… I know I won’t. Hot tears slide over my cold skin. I raise my hand, and stare at it. It twitched like a cut lizard’s tail. I bring it to my lips, and my tongue ventured out to taste it’s surface. It tastes… Like winter. Like winter and death- And like him.

I cried hard then. What do you call this feeling? It’s beyond despair. Beyond devastation… I feel nothing. I am nothing. Once, I had knocked one of my mother’s dolls off the shelf. It had descended like a fallen angels through the heavens, and splintered as it crashed on the floor. The sound reverberated in my ears like a thousand bells, powerful enough to raise the dead and send them back to their graves all at the same time. His last words… That had been the crash- The collision of reality and myself. And I was the doll, strewn all over the place. My mother had then told be that broken, the doll would be worthless, and that meant now… I would be worthless as well.

Old wounds stretched and riveted, ripped open again. My eyes let flow with acid tears, and my mouth fell agape so I could howl into the night like a shot wolf, crawling it‘s way to find a suitable place to die. “Laurence!” I shrieked, “Oh, god, Laurence!” I wished I could reverse time… Take me instead! I realized now… That I had no will to live. Life had tore that from me long ago. I felt my body over feverishly, to reassure myself I was in fact whole. My limbs shivered with frozen numbness, and injury.

My fingers brushed over a familiar texture, and I yelped. My hand closed around the band of knit yarn as I jerked it to my face. It was soaked, but just holding part of him made my whole being flutter with excitement. I said his name over and over, until I felt he was there with me, beside me. I shuddered in the cold. I could hear him… His voice. It made me break into choking sobs and wheezes all over again. His words vibrated in my soul, as he spoke from the heavens.

“Gregory. Get up, now. You’re bleeding. If you don’t get help, you’re going to die. I didn’t die for you, only to throw yourself away… Gregory, get up!”

I obeyed. My body wobbled up, my knees swerving to and fro- threatening to buckle and topple my whole body over, like an unsteady tower. I hobbled on, a zombie in a spring twilight. I fell over more than a dozen times. My body slammed into the dirt, cracked and crunched. But I would pull myself up again, and carry onward. It was either that, or lay down to face my death. Perhaps… I was just stalling the imminent. What were the chances? I hadn’t even a clue if I would reach the path again before my family moved on.

And even if I did, what family did I have left? I fell to my knees again. The night was my cradle, and mother earth was my grave. The grass beneath my head became my pillow, and the dirt that caked and coated my skin and wounds, my blanket. The stars served as my guide, as I raised my eyes and aimed for the heavens. The wind around me rocketed into a raging twister, ripping up the earth around me in a violent display of life’s power. My guiding river began to shake and rumble, as it flooded into a vicious, furious tsunami. At first it reared up on it’s haunches, towering over me as a behemoth collapsing wall. Then it pounced. It crashed over me, and I was swept into the sea.

I opened my eyes, staring up. A single ring of light illuminated the surface of the water above me. I extended my arms, and kicked my legs with all the strength my fading body could muster. I ascended, for once in my life feeling truly free. My fingers brushed over the surface, yet did not break through. I gasped, and threw my body against the barrier. It did not break, as I pounded my fists against the impenetrable surface. I screamed, and the water ate away at my breath like a leech. As I looked closer, I found that the plane preventing my escape from the depths was a shimmering mirror. I stared at myself in shock, disgusted by what I saw.

Need burned in my chest. A frantic, unearthly need for something I knew I would never come to understand. I gasped as a single chain snapped upward from the darkness below, and snared my ankle, like the tentacle of some starving monster. In the silence of the liquid chasm, I swore I heard the snapping jaws of the fiend below. Then came another chain, this time around my waist. I screeched again, only to find my lungs were empty of air, and full of water. Soon I was completely tangled in these chains, struggling under their writhing grip. They ripped into my flesh and scalded me to the core. I tore at them fiercely, yet found no release.

Then came the voices. They started a low whisper that quickly escalated until the shuddering echo pounded in my ears, and in my heart. No, they spoke no language, but I understood every word. I closed my eyes and listened intently, trapped between life and death- And the claws of heaven and hell. I listened to the symphony croon to me in a low rhythmic bass, before gracefully cavorted into a trembling falsetto. It encased me completely, and tried to call me into their arms. And when I opened my eyes, I found I was not alone.

Two inches from my nose stared the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her face was cold and emotionless, like a painting. And it was so startlingly perfect, that even Picasso could not have sculpted anything to even perhaps compete with her looks. She approached me, gliding to me like shark on an injured whale. I cried out to her at first, begging for her to save me. Her skin was white as the snow, and her eyes were as empty as my heavy heart. She reached out to me, and ran her fingers over my cheeks. Her ivory hair fanned out around her, floating through the nothingness.

‘Help me. Save me’ I pleaded with my mind. She cocked her head to the right, and smiled. Her teeth were pointed, interlocking together like a nightmarish zipper of yellow fangs. I gasped, and she sank away into the darkness. The singing was deafening now. I opened my mouth to howl out again, but a flicker in the corner of my eye told me to save my breath. She circled around me, and I would occasionally catch a glint of her ghastly jowl. Her mien remained sickeningly predatory, as I heard her cluck my tongue at me in amusement.

I was prey, a sitting duck. And she was a cat playing with it’s next meal. My stomach tightened, as she charged me. Lightning fast seconds past by in hours, as my eye widened, and then shut. Her claws sprang free as she flew toward me, her teeth glimmering eerily, threateningly in the twilight. And I laughed. The world froze, as she stared at me with a gaping mouth, and furious eyes. I watched every muscle in her face flex and realign, as she pounced toward me deft as a cougar.

I chortled lowly at her. I could feel it inside of me. Gears were shifting, doors were being unlocked. The clinked into place like the pieces of an elaborate jigsaw puzzle. And though a good portion of the image were missing, the picture was still clear. It was me. I am me. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Lady death, I fear not your kiss- Nor your bite.” I said, in a voice that was not mine. It was Laurence’s. And a gunshot rang out into the ecstasy, as all things around me collapsed.

And the world shattered. The chains broke at their links with a few chirps of metal, and the woman began to decompose in front of me. Her skin peeled away to reveal a set of nasty black scales coated to the top with grime and sin. Her hair wound together and set itself ablaze, as she hissed at me. Her mouth grew threefold, spreading past her refined cheeks. And for a moment, our eyes met, and we managed a moment of mutual understanding and sympathy.

And then she exploded. In a rain of a thousand diamonds, the world collapsed, and I fell into the darkness. And I smiled. The voices fell to the blades of the emptiness’ blades.


And I was going home.










Act Four: Shadows and Stallions

It smelled like burning. My eyes fluttered open like the wings of a newly hatched butterfly. My head wheeled and spun as my vision tried to focus an discern shapes. My sight blurred first, than cleared. A crackling flame spring up before me, hissing and sputtering. My heart broke. I sprang up, ready to suffer the wrath of the underworld for my sins and wrongdoings.

But I found that I had sorely overreacted. The flames I had taken as the embers of hell turned out only to be a small bonfire. I looked around, heart thundering in my chest. I was again sensed that there was a separate presence in the… Tent. I looked around, and my eyes fell on another boy. He was asleep, but the puppy on his chest seemed to have been awoken by my racket. It wriggled like a worm out of its owners, and bounded up to me.

I wasn’t sure how to react. I was so cold, yet this small animal was so warm. I scooped it up, and plopped down, nuzzling it to my face. I lapped at my cheeks and nose, and I laughed lightly. “I needed a friend.” I hummed lowly, as if the animal could actually understand my language, let alone the horror’s I’d been through. I wasn’t wearing most of my clothes, and my arm had been thickly bandaged, as had my abdomen. But I was alive, it seemed. The dog sensed my insecurity, yapping happily as it sprang away from me. It leapt on the other boy a few times, and I found myself quite afraid.

The boy grumbled in anger, and swatted the creature away. But he stopped when I shifted, and focused on me. He yelped and fell over before he managed to scramble up. He shouted something in his own language before he made an attempt to leave. I tried to grab his wrist, to beg him not to leave me alone. But my hand closed around empty air, as he disappeared like a ghost into the fog.

I was too afraid to venture out of the tent-like structure. That perhaps I would take a step out and find the pits of hell awaiting me, Satan lounging back in the chair of his own ego, head back as he roared in laughter. I could hear it now, mocking me as I hesitated to leave this small place of safety. Agoraphobia settled in my bones, and it seemed I couldn’t shake it. My body began to shiver as I reached to the flap. I could feel the fresh air threading its way in. Then I heard a loud crash, and I tumbled back.

The boy poked his head back in, a small but of dirt on his forehead. I laughed lightly, as it appeared he’d fallen. He narrowed his eyes and huffed, beckoning me with a single wiggling finger. I complied and stood up, trailing after him as he led me out. Much to me thanks, there was no hell waiting for me outside. Only the fresh air of breaking dawn. I gasped, and my knees wobbled. I wanted to fall to the ground and scream to the gods for their love, and to kiss the ground. A grin broke onto my face, ear to ear. I would have broke down crying right there, but I heard an angry yell in my direction.

I had stopped, and the boy had kept going. When he saw that I was not following, he’s spun around and called for me. I caught up quickly, as he yanked me into a larger tank. I was thrown down onto the ground. And when I looked up, I saw three men. The first was an Indian, wearing an elaborate headdress. The feathers were in all the colors of the spectrum, and the top tailed down to the ground with beaded tails and braids. The middle was also a Native American , but a young woman with a wise face and a firm brow.

The third wore a strange hat of animal skin, and a heavy winter coat. He would be the first to speak. “Well, well. It seems our surprise guest has actually survived his little coma. Next time you decide to pass out on the trail, maybe you shouldn’t venture so far from your folks.” he joked, but no one else laughed but him. He ran a hand through the scruffy beard that adorned his square chin. “Tell us boy, what are doing so far into an area that is quite obviously not your neck of the woods?” he asked.

I tried to speak, I really did. But all that came out was a sob, as I broke down in front of them. I told them about the river, and how my brother had died. I left out, however, my encounter with death. By the time I was done, the man had shifted uncomfortably, and the woman’s hard brow had softened. The man on the right seemed like he wanted to escape the small place, tugging at his collar like it had suddenly become several sizes to small. I wiped my nose and hid my face under my hand.

“I’m sorry. I’ve… Had a rough time… Please,” I tried to keep myself from beginning to sob once again. The woman stood, and ushered me out. She led me a bit away from the entrance, and let me weep again. Maternal instinct radiated from her, and I felt myself fall into arms- For I had no where else to go. And I cried until there weren’t any tears left. Then I sniffled and wiped my eyes, that were puffy and swollen from both the river and the crying. I wished we’d never left our cozy Iowa home. No new land was worth this pain and suffering.

“My clothes!” I cried, remembering my brother’s scarf. She nodded, and turned around, staring over at a tree that stood erect between a couple of tents. “Yuma. Find his clothes.” she called. I gaped as, the boy from earlier slinked from behind the tree. He looked disgruntled at how easily he’d been spotted, and he led me indignantly away. He walked with a certain power, and perhaps a bit of cockiness. I tried to catch up to him. “Your name… Is Yuma?” I asked. He glared at me do sharply you would have thought I’d insulted his whole family.

“Yes.” he said curtly. We retrieved my clothes on a frying line. He tossed my shirt to me, and my scarf. I smiled warmly and held it to my nose. They smelled clean. I raised an eyebrow and looked over at Yuma. “They… They’re clean.” I half commented, half asked. I pulled on my top, wincing as I ran my hands over my chest. Then I wrapped the scarf around my neck, breathing in deeply. I could still barely catch wisps of remnants of him on the scent. Perhaps I was just imagining it. Either way, I was thankful. It gave me the strength to keep from crumbling again.

_______

Well okey dokey. I wasn't going to post this but I thought, eh what the hell! I doubt I'm going to finish, because oregon trail dunt usually spark an interest with people. But if y'all like it, maybe I'll spit out a few more chapters, with some smut.


Please be nice in comments, my ego doesn't need petting but I'd appreciate if you approached it with consideration and love. Like a hamster.