We ran back to the rest of the family. They had heard the man’s last words.

“What happened?” mom asked.

“They said we can’t keep going down the road because we might be in danger and something about our kind not being accepted.” Mario said.

“But I just don’t get what he meant. What is ‘our kind’?” I pondered.

As they were talking, I stopped listening to focus on my internal thoughts. He pointed at my stick. That’s when he said we can’t trust them.

“Mario. He was pointing to our sticks. Something about them made them hostile to us.” I said.

“Yeah he did. But why would they be mad at us for holding sticks? Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to be racist or something?” he asked.

I couldn’t argue with that logic. Our skin colors weren’t much different, we were probably slightly darker than their totally pale skin. Or maybe it was our facial features. Or our clothes? It’s true they looked kind of poor and the clothes we were wearing were at least decent.

“They looked poor and they’re clearly weirdos. We may have woken up on grass, but we don’t look dirty like they do. Hunger must have driven them insane.” I said, shaking my head with pity.

“Well those are fancy-looking sticks. Maybe people here don’t like those.” Gigi said, annoyed, putting her hand on her waist.

“That’s ridiculous. They’re just sticks. And frankly I like mine.” I replied, holding mine up.

“They have a nice design, but what’s the point in holding on to these? Here give me yours too, Jay. I’ll give ‘em a good toss.” he said, looking like he was going to grab my stick.

“No, come on… I want to keep them. They look really nice.” I pleaded.

No sooner had he reached to try and grab my stick that something miraculous happened. As soon as it was nearly there, his hand was stopped short by a large visible spark of static electricity.

“Ow! What the hell?!” Mario pulled back quickly, looking like he was holding back tears.

The women in my family gasped, my mouth was wide open.

I couldn’t stop staring at the stick. I started moving it and put my own hand on the edge that seemed to have shocked my brother.

Nothing happened when I touched it. I felt every part of it against my skin, against my clothes. I wanted to test out and recreate what had just happened. Had a lot of static charge accumulated on it and been released when my brother held out his hand? If so, then if he touched it again, it wouldn’t shock him anymore.

I decided to test my hypothesis.

“Mario put your hand on it again.” I ordered.

He shrank back.

“Are you crazy? That hurt 10x worse than those bubble gum shockers Gigi used to have.” he said. He was referring to an old prank that was a hand shocker disguised as a gum container.

“But it was static electricity. All the charge that had gotten on the tip should have gone neutral when it touched your hand.” I pressed.

“No means no, dude.” He said, pissed. He started massaging his hand.

“Please!” I said, touching the tip that had shocked him. “Look, nothing happened. Gigi you touch it then.”

“No stay away from me!” she jumped back.

I laughed maniacally and started chasing her with the stick playfully and she started screaming.

Then I stopped in my tracks. I got the sudden urge to see if the same thing would happen if I touched Mario’s stick. After all, if electricity had accumulated on mine maybe it would happen on his since we had both been sleeping for hours, walking, and basically doing the same things.

I reached out to touch his, bracing myself for the shock.

But nothing interesting happened.

Then Mario composed himself and reached out to touch the stick. He paused for a second before making it to the tip and readied himself for pain.

Nothing.

We soon lost our curiosity on the sticks and focused on the real problem.

“Okay, it looks like they were just ordinary sticks.” I said, a little dejected.

Weird though, for the spark to be visible and that huge, the voltage must have been enormous. How could normal friction have caused this?

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“For now, let’s just hide them inside our shirts and keep going. I’m getting hungry.” he said.

I beamed. I was happy he had decided not to throw them away. Logically I knew these were just pieces of wood, but I wanted to believe there was more to them than that.

“Okay. Let’s keep walking so we can find some place with food.” Flo said, with a hand on her stomach.

I knew we couldn’t stay here. We’re an indoors family. If we had to start hunting to survive we might not last. My brother was pretty good at fishing, but without a rod and materials, he’s useless. We needed to take our chances and go to the town the man and woman were walking about and see if we could at least blend in somehow. And if they really were upset about a piece of wood then we’d get rid of them.

We collected ourselves mentally and got ready to start walking again.

Mario turned to me and whispered, “Jay, when it comes down to it, I’ll be going in alone to make sure it’s safe. If I don’t make it back, then take everyone and go somewhere else.”

I nodded in agreement. “Alright.”

The cobblestone felt rough on our feet as we continued down the path. I started to lose track of the time. My body felt like it was sagging. I couldn’t tell how far we had walked anymore, but some time along the way the forest to the left and right of us had disappeared from view, replaced by fields of empty farmland. We could see the trails of plowing and some crops growing, but no one was tending to them. Seeing a change of scenery lifted our spirits and I mentioned that we must be close.

“I’m really thirsty. I need waaaater.” Gigi complained, making a fuss with her hands.

“We’ll get you some inside.” Flo told her.

The sun had been beating down our necks and I could feel the sweat start to trickle by the drop.

“Not a cloud in the sky today. Just our shitty luck!” I let out a curse out of frustration and mom got angry.

A few minutes of walking later, we saw a large gate system with a few people that looked like guards taking in a small line of travelers. There were boxes of something and a table where an important looking person was writing something down. The boxes looked like cargo. But they could also be things that were confiscated from people. It appeared to me that guy sitting down was the person who decided who got into the town or not.

My brother stopped us from going any further.

He told the girls what he had whispered to me earlier about him going in alone.

I told him that I would hold on to his stick and he agreed. His was a shade of light brown whereas mine was darker, so we could easily tell them apart.

He jogged a bit to get his place in line, while we waited a safe distance away close to the fields, about 15 feet from the line.

One by one the line grew shorter as people were either turned away or welcomed inside.

“Please let us inside.” A man holding a young boy about 7 said, both looking impoverished. He was so skinny, like a skeleton being covered in a thin layer of flesh.

They looked like they were inches from death.

There was a sign posted that said ‘1 silver entry’.

“Great another one. I’m tired of his kind showing up here and thinking this is a free meal ticket.” The man writing down on table stopped for a moment and looked up at him fiercely.

“Unless you got proof of business or a pass from Lord Sylvian, you’re not getting in. It’s blistering hot and I have to deal with more beggars.” he said in a scruffy voice, loudly enough to be heard from much further than we were standing.

New information. A whole string of new questions danced in my head. Who’s Lord Sylvian?

“Please sir, I know we’re poor but I can work. I’m a hard worker, you see. The hardest worker you will find. I will take care of your fields and earn you lots. I will earn my keep. My boy… we need this.” the man with the boy said in desperation.

Poor guy is just looking for a better life for him and his son. He’s worked harder than I have for sure. What hope do we have of getting inside if he’s getting turned away?

The scruffy guard shooed him away, and the beggar placed a hand on the guard’s arm, pleading for him to reconsider.

“Take your filthy hands off me. Now shoo before I lose my patience.”

A guard whistled and someone from beyond the gate came out. It was another guard, carrying food

“Sir, I’m back from the market. I’ve got some fresh meat sticks for us.”

The scruffy guard sitting down immediately perked up. “Hope you scored some wine with that, boy!”

“Nothing that fancy to drink, I’m afraid, sir.”

The subordinate guard set the food down on the scruffy guard’s table.

The line got shorter. Some got welcomed in, while others were turned away.

Finally it was my brother’s turn to face the man. My brother straightened his shirt collar and huffed out his shoulders.

“Ahh finally, someone that looks like the least bit respectable.” The scruffy guard said. He started moving his hands up and down as if to show off my brother.

“With clothes like that, you must be at least a knight’s son. No, a baron’s.” the guard proclaimed.

I stared at my brother and wondered just how he was going to win over that pushy guard. Finally he started to speak.

“Sir, I see you have a good judge of character. You are right, I’m not just any traveler. I am a merchant with a certain trading company to the west. I was visiting the town with my family on important business…”, he said pointing to us. “…when we were attacked on our way here. They stole our stuff, but at least not the clothes on our backs.” he said.

Nice. Surprised he came up with that on the spot.

“I see. And I’m assuming they conveniently stole your identification card as well, am I mistaken?” he asked suspiciously. It looked to me that he was not buying Mario’s story at all.

I looked around the fields. The crops on the one I was standing next to looked to be in poor shape. They were growing tomatoes, but they looked a sickly brownish color. And there were some weird spots on the leaves. I had read about this before when we planted a vegetable garden in the backyard. And by sheer luck, I got a stroke of inspiration. For a story that he might buy. It was a scenario that was just like an RPG I had played.

I quickly ran up to the man and my brother.

“Forgive me for the late introduction, sir. I am a representative of the Scholars Association of Farmers. My brother is our merchant in title, more like a salesman.” I eagerly explained.

I pointed to the crops.

“With all due respect, we came because of reports of the crops being lost, to disease or otherwise. The leaves on that tomato plant have brown splotches, and many are wilting. Those are the early signs of a diseased plant, namely Septoria leaf spots. We offer solutions for these types of problems at cost, which would be best discussed with the right people inside. Though our carriage was lost, it’s only a minor setback and has no bearing on our intentions here.” I said firmly.

I wanted to convince him that for us losing a carriage wouldn’t be a big deal to us. Maybe it would make us seem rich.

“Eron. Go check out that plant and see if what he says is true.” the scruffy guard said.

At once, one of the guards standing next to him went to inspect the plant I had been pointing to. He got near my mom and bent over next to her. Even from this far, I could see that he was trying to flex in front of her as he bent. I got angry.

He hurried back and confirmed what I said.

“Very well. Normally we would do a more thorough inspection, but you’re lucky it’s hot and I have my favorite meat kabobs.” the scruffy guard said. “Besides, those clothes don’t lie.”