I was grounded for an entire week.

With the exception of doing chores, outside was off limits, so I wasn't allowed to play in the fields or anywhere near the woods. In a way I was sort of relieved, because it rained nearly every day. It looked quite cold out there. The sky was a weepy gray, and the puddles were so big that when people attempted to hop over them, they would end up getting completely soaked from head to toe. The thunderstorms rumbled from above, sending vibrations throughout the ground. In the evening, lightning formed in the sky as my neighbors rushed to get inside as quickly as they could once done tending to the fields.

Rain was all I could see and hear.

Stephanie was watching me like a hawk as I worked alongside her. I scrubbed each pot and utensil in the kitchen, soap suds rising in the air. With an old broom, I beat the dust out of the rugs and tapestries, the dark brown clouds making me sneeze multiple times. In the pouring rain, we pulled up muddy turnips and potatoes and dumped them into wheelbarrows. I milked two of my neighbor's goats, carrying the warm liquid with care so that I made sure not to spill it on the ground. Stephanie showed me how to peel a potato properly with a small knife. I enjoyed watching her knead dough and seeing it rise within the red surface of the brick oven, gold and flaky, soft to the touch.

She saw me looking one evening as she plucked the feathers of a beheaded chicken for supper. She washed, cut up, skinned, and sliced the meat in several pieces, and coated them into the crushed seasonings she hung from a rack above the stove in a huge bowl. Paprika, curry, thyme, and rosemary met my nose. Seeing her strong hands moving so effortlessly and with such skill had me mesmerized. Pointing a grubby thumb at me, she asked, “You want to help?”

I nodded.

“You done with the laundry I gave you?”

Another nod.

“All four baskets? Folded and put away?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmmm. Make sure you are, because I’m going to check behind you.”

A smile gathered on my face. Stephanie gave me a wink and waved me over. She showed me how to make a hearty, spicy chicken stew, one filled to the brim with thick potatoes and vegetables. She demonstrated to me the proper way to cut with a knife, to chop the carrots and onions in such tiny pieces at a fast speed. The aroma filled the kitchen and the steam caused my glasses to fog. And when we sat down near the entrance of the hut to eat it with the thick biscuits she had made with butter on top, watching the rain heavily pour outside, I made sure not a single drop was left inside my bowl. As I began to lick the bottom after having seconds, a hint of pride was apparent on Stephanie’s face.

”Next time I’m going to ask you to make it, the exact way I’ve shown you,” she said. “Yup. That’s the way it’s done. And then I’ll show you how to make something else.”

I wiped my mouth and grinned.

* * * * * * *

There was a small knock near the doorway of my hut, and the sound of a tapestry being pushed to the side.

”Can I come in?”

I turned my head to my right, barely lifting it from the window, watching the rain continue. Security lazily rested against the ledge. Papa stood in the threshold, a long dark coat placed over the strange navy blue uniform he wore at his meetings. Dark circles were under his eyes, so I knew he had been working. He wore a cap on top of his head. I could see the pistol he always carried on his waist. He dropped his hand and gave me a smile. It looked unnatural to me, the kind that grown ups gave right before they told people things they didn’t want to say. I squirmed in my seat.

"Hey, buddy. How are you?”

Ignoring him, I tightly folded my arms and focused my gaze outside. I could hear his footsteps across the room, the squeaky sound of him pulling up a stool that he was too big for and sitting beside me. We both sat in silence, listening to the pattering of the rain. He then leaned forward and rested his arms on his lap, before taking a deep breath.

"I've been meaning to speak to you a lot earlier.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Are you eating properly? Getting enough sleep? You’ve been having nightmares since that day. Stephanie has told me you yell in the middle of the night.” His body was slumped forward, like a rag doll. “If you have anything you’d like to talk about, you can tell me.”

The words slipped out of my mouth. “I’m scared of drowning. Of not being able to breathe, or being trapped. In my dreams, I can’t move or see. And it’s always cold.”

As Papa placed his left arm around me, I leaned against him. His uniform was freshly washed and smelled like soap and baking soda. “I understand. I know for sure it’s time I teach you how to swim so that never happens again. Your sister has been bringing it up to me ever since that day.” He glanced down at me. “How would you like that? When you are ready to, of course.”

“Can we?”

“Yes. We can start whenever you want. You just need to let me know. There’s a spring nearby that you can start to practice in.”

I nodded. The idea of water still terrified me, but as long as someone was with me, it seemed a lot less intimidating. “Okay.”

His tone was gentle, but stern. "It’s just that things have been so busy for me that I can barely squeeze one event after another. You've been doing a wonderful job with Stephanie. She's told me how much of a help you have been to her. And I want to let you know how proud of I am of you, you know? You've been showing me how responsible you--"

"I didn't fall into the well on purpose," I mumbled. "Is that why you won't let me go outside?"

Papa placed a hand on one of my shoulders. "No. I wanted you to reflect on how you could've done things differently. It's..." He lowered his gaze. "It's not safe out there. People...t-they do bad things because they're unwell. They're sick in the head. And when you aren't sound in the mind, the body withers away as well. Their thoughts go haywire. They don’t act normally.”

”Why can’t they take medicine, so that they won’t be sick anymore? Or go to the doctor? Then they could feel better.”

“Not everyone has access to such resources, so they remain ill for a very, very long time. And sometimes it’s an underlying problem that would be missed. I wish it were that simple, that they could get the help that they most desperately need. Because people end up getting hurt by them.”

”Oh,” I softly said.

“It's not that I don't ever want you to go outside and play ever again. It may not make sense now because you are so young.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s why I have rules, son. To keep you safe from those bad, sick people. They will not hesitate to harm you. Your sister had to go through the same thing when she was your age. When you are older, we will show you how to protect yourself against them. But in the meantime, this is why it is so important for you to listen to us. Do you understand that?”

”I understand.” Yet I wanted him to show me how to shoot a gun or use a knife in case I ended up in a duel or a fistfight. I didn’t like being a burden on them, for them to constantly worry about me. Mary had her own gun, one that I saw her oiling and cleaning every three to four weeks until it shone. I had asked him for one and he said that I was far too little. And that was that.

“Good.” Papa took off his hat and rubbed the top of his head. “It’s a mean world out there, and you’ll be plenty exposed to it when you’re older. Believe me.” Then he scooted forward in his seat. “Tell me the three golden rules I have in place for you.”

I raised a finger after each sentence. “Number one, never talk to strangers. Number two, if you see something strange, tell another grown up. Number three, never go to the ocean.” I wanted to ask him more about the third one, about why he seemed to hate the beach so much, but a pleased look came across his face. Not wanting to spoil the moment, I withheld the question.

”Very good,” he exclaimed. “That’s my boy.”

”Do you have rules, Papa?” I whispered.

“Absolutely. And if I didn’t follow them or decided to break even a single one, we would all be in a very different place right now.” He took a deep breath. “I have people who are depending on me because of them. Every day, I make sure to not let them down. It’s more than my job. It’s my duty to serve my country—your country—in such a time of need. They are very important to keep.”

“The older you get, the more rules you have keep up with, right?” My ears slightly rung. “What if you forget them? Do they pile up after each birthday you have? How can you possibly remember all of them?”

“You won’t.” Papa quietly laughed. “You’ll have a lot more responsibilities, and you’ll expect to receive what life will throw at you. It won’t be so much about memorization, but understanding how important they are. And why they matter. And people do have them, whether they like it or not. If they don’t follow them, then they have to face the consequences.”

“So does Mary have more rules than me?”

”Yes. Every person you see outside of that window has to follow some set of rules.”

Finally, I turned to face him. "I haven't seen her in days.”

"Your sister is out assisting me with the important work I have to do. She’s stationed with me outside of the camp. There is an emergency situation going on. But she'll be back soon.”

She didn't even tell me she was leaving.

"Hey...hey.." Papa must've seen my face crumple up, and he immediately pulled me into a gentle embrace as hot, salty tears traveled down beneath my chin. A hiccup erupted from my mouth, he gathered me into his bear like arms. A devastated expression gathered on his face. "What’s wrong? It's alright. It's alright, now."

With the back of my hand, I wiped my sticky nose. "She doesn't like being here with me. She's going to leave for good. Because I ruined everything that day. I made her cry. She hates me, doesn't she?"

"No, no, no." His voice was soothing. "Don't ever think that. She had to leave really early in the morning because it was an emergency, son. It came suddenly. She's working with me and a few others at our main base. She misses you a lot." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled napkin, wiping at my wet face. "She hates how we don't get to spend enough time together. She was deeply upset with herself because she wasn't there to protect you when you needed her the most."

I looked up, sniffing, my glasses blurry with tears. "Really?"

"Really," Papa gently said. “She told me herself.”

"How long will she be gone?"

"I can't say for sure, but most likely not more than a couple of days. And since the week is almost up, you'll be able to go and play tomorrow." He gave me a stern look as he noticed my excited reaction. "And remember. Stay where folks can see you, understand? Nowhere near the woods or the beach. Or outside of the village.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Papa," I asked, "what did you and Stephanie find at the well?"

A long silence passed.

”You were looking for something.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. To my surprise, he appeared a bit startled at my question; caught off guard. "I was checking to see if the rope had snapped or if one of the stones had gotten loose when you were leaning up against it. Then I spoke to some people and asked if they could make it so that it would be less dangerous to others. It’s a very old well, you know. It was there before we even established the camp, before you were born and—”

"But you got me out because I fell inside.” I swung my bare feet against the stool I sat on, causing the legs to creak. “You managed to pull me out."

“Pulled you….” Papa shook his head. ”No one pulled you out. That’s impossible. That space is too small and narrow for someone like me to fit in. Also, there wasn’t anyone available reach you in time if you did. There’s no way that I could have gotten—”

“No,” I said. “I fell in. I really did.”

Confusion spread over his face. "Rehan, that is a ten foot drop. It would have taken a whole team of men with ropes and shovels to reach you at the very bottom. You most likely suffered from heat stroke, and because you were carrying those very heavy buckets, you must've slipped, hit your head on the ground, and spilled the water all over yourself. That's why your glasses were found only a few feet away. If you had fallen in, they would've been long gone for sure. And that reminds me---it's almost time for you to get fitted for a new pair."

I stared at him for a long time.

"What is it?" Papa asked.

"Maybe I did bump my head." I ran my hands through my hair; the memory was indeed foggy and hazy. "I don't remember much.”

"Hmmm," he quietly said. "Maybe we should take you the doctor and check to make sure you don't have a concussion.”

”What’s a concussion, Papa?”

“It’s a brain injury that can occur due to head trauma.” He smiled. “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you ? Mr. William has been absent for a while, but once I get in contact with him, I will definitely make sure we do schedule an appointment." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "The time never stops, does it? I'll see you tomorrow, right around noon. And then, we will play our game. So do you think you could handle one more day of complete boredom before you have a taste of freedom by the next morning?"

"Okay. But prepare to lose. I don't want you to end up getting a bad cramp. I'm the fastest kid here. I can beat you in my sleep." I pretended to nod off and snore. “Easy.”

"I'll take your word for it."

I snorted, causing him to laugh quite hard. Another knock sounded near the threshold, interrupting us, and we both looked towards the direction where it had come from.

A tall, slim man with red and white paint marked on his face stood near the parted tapestry. His brown hair stood upwards. He looked surprised at my presence, and two very large knives clad in leather material were bound to his back. As his large dark eyes fell on me, I suddenly felt very, very tiny. And then I noticed something odd on his left cheek, like it was carved into his flesh. The letter K. I looked up at Papa, getting ready to ask him what it meant, but he had already rose to his feet and gave the man a formal bow.

“Rufus, it’s time.” When he spoke, I noticed that his voice was raspy and deep. “We are waiting, sir.”

“It’s not polite to make others wait,” I said.

”No, it is not,” Papa replied, holding back a chuckle. He gave me a light pat on the head. “I’ll see you soon, little guy.” He wagged his finger in my face. “Stay out of trouble, you hear? And no dawdling.”

I turned to look at the man again, who was watching our entire interaction. He kept studying me, like he was trying to figure out if I had come from a place he knew. I stared back at him, and he quickly glanced away and followed my father out of the hut.

* * * * * * * *

Morning could not come fast enough.

I built a pillow and blanket fort for Security and whispered stories to him all night long, using what remaining fuel was left in the old gas lamp in my hut. I asked him about what magical place he had explored and when I would expect him to leave for his journey. With my fingers, I made shadow puppets against the wall---an alligator, a giraffe, a bunny. I attempted to make a hippo dancing up on its hind legs, but I couldn’t get it right.

The gas lamp hung from my hand as I crept over and peeked into Stephanie’s hut, moving behind the tapestry just one inch, peeking out with my good eye. She was fast asleep on her bed, her mouth open, chest gradually rising and falling. I slowly dropped the curtain and rushed back to my hut.

By the crack of dawn, before anyone was up, I got dressed as fast as I could and ran outside in the fields, the scent of wet mud and sweet grass filling the air. Laughing with glee, I rolled around in it, enjoying its softness. Security watched the purple and orange sky with me. I helped myself to a blueberry bush, licking my stained fingers and wiping them against my T-shirt. The sweeter ones were located at the very bottom leaves, and I shoved handfuls of them into my mouth, enjoying the sensation of them exploding against my teeth. The village was quiet because no one was awake yet, nor even the animal herders who were the first to rise. Snatching Security's bottom left leg, I ran up the grassy hill, letting the cold wind settle over me.

I knew where I wanted to go.

One of the farmers--Old Pete as we called him, had a rickety barn full of hay that he allowed the village kids to play with all the time. It was one of the best spots. His own place wasn't too far from the barn, so I made sure to move as quietly as I could around his property, because I heard he could be nasty woken up too early.

Sometimes there would be a couple of boys there who went there to hang out there to smoke. They were much older, taller, and usually bullied me whenever I crossed paths with them. But to my delight, no one was there. The air was still. I tugged at my overall straps that Stephanie had sewn for me to make sure that they would keep hold—they were much too big—despite her insisting I’d eventually grow into them. I stared at the apple tree that sat in his back yard and smacked my lips, planning to grab one before I went home. They looked ripe too.

Breathing heavily, I remained at the door, covered in sweat. The barn was mostly dark due the sun not rising yet, but natural light was starting to creep in just so I could make out the wooden pens and the abundant boxes of sweet smelling hay. And, if I was careful enough, I could help myself to a few apples that had fallen from the old farmer’s tree. They were a bit small and brown and mushy, but it was the sugary goodness that I was after, that made my mouth water. I craved it more than lemon pound cake, or the sticky berry juice on my mouth.

My bare feet left prints in the mud as I wandered into the double doors, the quiet sound of crickets filling the cool air. As the level of hay began to increase and rise to my ankles, I set Security down on top of a wheelbarrow so that he was facing me. His floppy ears hung by his side. I took off my glasses and placed them right beside him.

Using my hands and knees, I scrambled upwards towards the very top of the biggest stack of golden hay. The roof had holes in it, where I could make out the dark sky. I closed my eyes for a moment, pretending that I was a famous athlete or a diver, ready to jump into a pool thousands of feet below. Then I bent down, stretched my arms, legs, reached down to touch my muddy toes. I imagined a crowd of over a million people who had their cameras out. I waved to Security below, who was watching me with his polished button eyes.

“Geronimo!"

Gaining enough speed, I made sure to give myself a running start and dove into the pile of hay, sinking into it, laughing uncontrollably as I collapsed to the bottom. Thousands of pieces of straw flew up. Glancing at Security, I began to do a bellyflop, the soft hay cushioning my fall. The towering mountains of hay made me decide to build a tunnel. After placing a fresh layer of the stuff on the ground, I dug with my hands, throwing and tossing the golden straws up in the air, watching them flutter below. Straining my arms, I raised my hands up, jumping up and down, snickering, trying to catch them.

A brief shadow caught my attention, and I turned my head to the side, before it disappeared. Assuming that it was another villager passing by, I continued to leap over the hay bales, setting them up like an obstacle course. Of course, I wasn't very good at being balanced, because I fell flat on my stomach.

I kept this up, pointing to Security.

"The ground is lava!" I announced to him, hopping from one bale to another. With a grunt, I landed on my side, desperately grabbing at the edge to avoid teetering over. "If you fall, you die." I picked up a long stick and used it to push the bales closed towards me. "Wish me luck, partner."

With my sticky hands, I dug a tunnel, crawling under the gigantic pile on my knees. Giggling, I attempted to make my way through the maze of hay, and when I found myself at the very top of the pile, I smiled, realizing how close I was to the ceiling, and I touched one of the rafters. Straw stuck out in all directions from my hair as I began to eagerly dig back down to make it to the bottom.

After tumbling down head over heels on top of another pile of hay, a faint creaking noise caught my attention. One of the hinges in the door had been busted off, like someone had smacked the mess out of it with their fist. It hung lopsided, near dragging towards the ground. I slowly got up, staring at it for a while, wondering why it was swinging side to side like that.

”Mary?” I called, though I wasn’t sure why I did.

There was a faint popping sound.

Slowly, cold specks of white began to fall and descend up on the hay. The faint smell of manure in the barn was replaced with fresh air. As I looked upwards, I realized that it was coming from the roof. The sky. When I held a palm out, I studied the strange design on one speck, before it melted against my skin. I tried to catch another one, slapping my palms together. I giggled and ran after them, chasing the thousands that came down in abundance. Security was starting to become coated in it—it had gotten stuck in his fur.

Silence. Crackling echoed in my ears, like something growing on the wall. In the pitch black, the air suddenly grew more cold. My breaths became visible, small puffs of white. I slowed down my steps. A thin layer of white gathered on the wooden walls, spreading over the hay.

The ground became moist, soggy.

I remained still, my smile fading, wanting to get to Security. But he was too far, too close to the door. As it gradually closed shut, trapping me into pitch darkness, my throat went dry. I ran, I almost tripping over a hay bale. Moving as silently as I could, and avoiding the patches of light from the tattered roof, I frantically ducked behind a large pile of hay and dug a hole big enough to fit in. By now, the white stuff had begun to form in large piles all over the ground.

It was suddenly so cold that I was shivering, and chills ran up and down my spine. After sinking as far as I could behind the pile, I hugged my knees, clamping both berry stained hands over my mouth to stifle my breathing. As I sat there, trembling, the taste of berries in my mouth went sour. The crackling sound only increased from what presence had entered the barn.

The atmosphere was quiet, but I could hear footsteps. They were slow, very faint, but I was just about to make them out. They made a wet, slopping sound against the mud, like someone was slapping a soggy mop across the floor. As the coldness seeped on the ground, it reached the soles of my bare feet. And the ground was no longer wet or damp. It was hard as rock, and impossible to stand on. I had to use my hands for support so that I wouldn’t fall.

Slippery, frozen to the touch.

A thick trail of white followed the shadow’s lingering, awkward stride.

Behind the straws of hay, I managed to peek out with my good eye, trying to get used to the dark. The shadow’s contrast was more visible than the empty space—a long black one, that was moving silently amongst the hay bales. It had an odd shape and out of place on the edges. Distorted and twisted, it seemed to drag itself along. The moment it reached the wheelbarrow, it stopped, casting a shade over Security's button eyes. There was a faint thumping sound, like rocks being dumped inside of it. The footsteps resumed.

I was shivering so badly that I was sure that I would wet myself. Then the breathing, which was once quiet and still, was now heavier. Shakier, like someone was gulping for air. The shadow had stopped moving. It was bent over the rusted wheelbarrow, brief guttural sounds escaping from them like they had a bad tummy ache. It slowly faced my direction, and I could hear the sound of hay being pushed to the side, being parted in half. I held my breath, curling up into a ball as tightly as I could, staring at it. I was unable to move; my muscles were locked against each other.

After a couple of minutes, the shadow stopped walking. But didn’t cease its movement; it was gliding almost, while completely remaining still. It looked like something else was attached to its body—like snakes from the gorgon Medusa’s hair—one of the Greek myths that my sister had read to me. They rapidly spread out, filling the entire barn, causing walls to break off in chunks and crumble into pieces like rock. The hay became soaked and damp, and a dripping sound echoed in my ears.

I dug my fingernails as deep as I could into my palms. Once they finished their destruction, it stood over the bundle of hay I was crouched behind, slowly lowering its vine like arms. Silently, it moved away as quickly as it had come, leaving both double doors ajar. The squeaking resumed, blowing in the wind.

I waited ten minutes, before slowly emerging from the pile of hay. Shakily, I climbed over it, a cold sweat settling under my arms. Bewildered at the mess and the broken boards left behind, I made my way through the wreckage, using my hands against what remained on the walls for a guide.

The barn was cold, freezing. Immediately, I rushed forward to the wheelbarrow and felt for my glasses. Once I put them on, I reached out to pick up Security but stopped the moment I noticed what was next to him.

Four yellow and orange fruits, encased in the white stuff, but ripe as they could be, were placed to the right on top of a thick green palm leaf. Mangoes. Very large ones, near the size of rocks nearby the coral reefs. I knew that their trees were closest to the ocean, near the edge of the woods. It had been so long since I had eaten them that I had forgotten what they had tasted like. I leaned forward, began to smell them. Their aroma met my nose, and I could make out the imprint of fingertips against the surface of the skin.

My mouth went dry at the sight.

I reached out to touch a mango to make sure that they were real, their scent tempting to my nose, then hesitated and dropped it back into the wheelbarrow with the others.

Slowly, I backed away.

Grabbing Security, I took off running as fast as I could in the dense morning fog, not acknowledging that there were another pair of footprints leading to the dilapidated barn.