The rain fell hard, soaking everything it touched. The Earth itself, not able to stomach any more water, spat it back out onto the ground in a desperate attempt of survival. Among the many creatures caught in this eternal elemental struggle is a small boy, only 12 years old. He does not mind the rain, however. He enjoys the splashing sounds of his feet stomping into the puddles on his driveway. His mother will not be happy about having to clean his clothes again so quickly after the last wash. This does not concern the boy. It is his time for play and play he will.
“Lucas, if you so much as get one piece of dirt on those pants again I swear it will be the end of you!”
Shocked by this sudden intrusion of reality into his playtime, Lucas does his best to ignore the outburst from his mother. She is now standing at the open front door of his house. He decides to continue playing instead. He tries to remember where he was putting the castle wall. Was it next to the garage where the flowers were being drowned by the rain? Or was it by the end of the driveway next to the bins that still needed to be brought inside?
"Dad is going to be in big trouble when she finds out he forgot to bring them in again," Lucas thought. He turns to reassess his newly created kingdom when another shout splits the air, even louder than before.
“Lucas Brown, if I have to tell you one more time to come back inside, I might never let you back in at all!”
Still determined to finish the layout of his freshly imagined new world, Lucas turns back toward the road and begins to measure the amount of space there will be between the streets of his walled city.
“Lucas Edward Brown, your last warning was two warnings ago. If you want Charlie to come over tonight you better move your legs right back inside this house!”
Lucas drops his head in defeat, knowing that his mother’s use of his middle name meant she is no longer playing around. “Yes mother, coming right away, mother.” He takes one last snapshot of his city’s map in his mind and turns towards the house. His steps are long and pronounced, purposefully creating waves in the puddles on the driveway. If he has to go inside he wants to be sure his protest is noticed. He watches his mother roll her eyes and say something he can’t hear over the sound of the rain. She turns and walks back into the house, confident that using his middle name had the desired effect. The last few drops of rain splash against his glasses as he steps onto the porch. He opens the outside storm door and steps inside.
The landing at the base of the stairs is normal enough. A little mat for shoes rests against the wall and a coat rack towers over his right side as he closes both doors behind him. He takes off his rain boots and tosses them onto the mat, not caring that they get mud all over his younger sister’s shoes when they land. His coat is just as quickly discarded onto the very top of the rack, ensuring that everything underneath it will get wet. The door at the top of the stairs is shut, but the rumblings of music can be heard escaping underneath the crack at the base of the door.
I hope she stays in there all night, especially once Charlie gets here, he thinks.
The eggshell-white walls of the hallway before him are adorned with family photos from past vacations. As he walks towards the living room, the family photos give way to his father’s watercolor paintings. He hears the sound of the television as he approaches the entrance. Lucas steps inside and sees his father, David, sitting on his favorite chair. A drink sweats onto a coaster on the end table next to him.
“Hey Dad,” says Lucas as he walks towards the couch.
“Hey Son, David replies. “Don’t you think about sitting down with your pants soaked like that, your mother will have a fit.”
Lucas looks down at his pants and sees that the cuffs are completely caked in mud. He smiles as he looks back up towards his father, “If you don’t tell her about my pants, then I won’t tell her you forgot to bring in the trash cans again”.
A look of fear, shock, and pride mixes and plays across Mr. Brown’s face as he realizes that he indeed did forget to bring in the trash cans after he got home from work. He begins to get up and walks across the room, “Deal. And you’re getting too good at that. You better be careful or your smart mouth will get you into trouble one of these days”. Lucas lets out a short laugh before he can stifle it and sheepishly looks back at his father. “You’re the one who taught me, after all,” says Lucas. Mr. Brown stops at the entrance to the hallway and looks back down at Lucas. “Watch it, Mister. Don’t press your luck”. Lucas looks back up at Mr. Brown, knowing he is playing a dangerous game, “Sorry, dad. I didn’t mean it,” he says. Mr. Brown steps towards Lucas and puts a hand on top of his head. He allows a smirk to grow and replies, “Yes, you did. Now go upstairs and get ready for dinner before your mother puts us both in time-out”.
Lucas walks back to the stairs and begins his ascent to his room. He makes it halfway up when he realizes that his dad will need to remove his drenched raincoat in order to find his own. He stays still as he peeks back down the stairs at the door. He sees the back of his father, an umbrella in hand, as the door closes. Crisis averted, he thinks to himself. He climbs the remainder of the stairs and walks past his sister’s room. A bright pink sign with gold, glittery lettering warns anyone who passes by that no boys are allowed inside. An even larger sign above it, surrounded by unicorns and tiaras, proudly advertises that the domain on the other side of the door belongs to “Princess Sophie”. Lucas motions his hands over his mouth and makes a pretend throw-up noise. He then bangs on the door as he walks by.
“Leave me alone!” can just be heard over the music coming from inside the room.
“Dad wants us to get ready for dinner!” Lucas screams back, much louder than is necessary, before continuing towards his room.
“Lucas, leave your sister alone!” his mother yells from the kitchen downstairs. Sighing as he opens his door, he stops to look at one of his own signs, hung crookedly across it, that reads, “Beware of Middle Child”. He takes a step inside and a turn to look back down the hallway towards his sister’s room as he quietly says, “I wasn’t one before she came along.” He closes the door behind him and feels an immediate sense of relief as he is once again in the safety of his room.
Awaiting him is the ultimate den of a young child. Strewn across the floor are elegantly organized piles of chaos. It makes total sense to him, of course, as there is a system for keeping the piles separated by purpose. There is a pile of clean clothes lying haphazardly in front of his old dresser. The pile of dirty clothes lies right next to that, blocking the door to his closet. A tiny trash can sits in the corner with its contents straining against all odds to stay within its confines. A large window splits the room in half on the opposite wall. Between the slats of the blinds, decals of sports teams can be seen on the window panes. Most are yellowed from the sun and some have even curled off and fallen onto the sill. A delicate path from the door to his bed can be seen, just wide enough for him to safely travel across the minefield of belongings before him. He starts to walk towards his bed, careful not to step on or knock over the various table top game dioramas he has in various states of completion all over the room.
Once on his bed, he takes stock of his kingdom as he removes his muddy pants. After throwing them onto the pile of dirty clothes without a second thought, he grabs a pair of shorts left on his sheets from the night before. A stack of magazines and books rests between the wall and his pillows, and he reaches for the novel on the top of the pile.
The Hobbit or There and Back Again by J.R.R Tolkien, he says aloud. I wonder if this one is any good? Charlie keeps recommending it. I’ll ask him why he likes it when he comes over tonight. I hope he remembers to bring his finished miniatures with him, he thinks. He flips through the pages and stops at the first picture he sees. He received a beautiful illustrated version of the book as a gift from his uncle earlier that year. Looking back at him is a giant red dragon and what he can only describe as a tiny person. The dragon lords over a mountain of gold larger than it is, and it appears as though the tiny person might be trying to sneak up to him.
“Well, if it has dragons it probably is a great book,” he says as he looks down at the closest diorama to his bed. This particular one has a picture of a dragon cut out from a magazine and pasted on the top of a gray spire made from LEGO bricks. At the base of the spire are four toy figures with their names written on pieces of paper next to their feet.
“Lucas! Come down for dinner!” his mom yells from downstairs. Once again interrupted by his mother’s calls, Lucas puts down the book and swings his feet around from his bed. Ever careful not to step onto any of his creations, he tiptoes over the aforementioned spire and begins to walk to his door. As he opens it, he is greeted by his sister, who is none too pleased to be there.
“Mom says you have to let me play with you and Charlie once he gets here,” she says. Lucas reels from this new information and tests the validity of her claim.
“Why can’t you just stay in your room and listen to music and leave us alone?” he asks. Sophie rolls her eyes and lets out a prolonged, dramatic sigh.
“You think I want to play with you two? You guys are both such nerds!” she exclaims.
“How come mom is making you?” replies Lucas. Sophie starts to answer him, but he begins to think of all the ways he can convince his mother not to make her play with them. Noticing her older brother zoning out, Sophie snaps her fingers in front of his face to get his attention.
“You always do that! I was talking to you, so listen to me! Mom, he is doing it again!” she yells. Before Lucas can defend himself, a low, thunderous exclamation can be heard from the base of the stairs. “You two better get down here right now. Dinner is ready and your mom has already asked you nicely. Both of you, down here, NOW!” Knowing better than to test the patience of their father, they both glower at each other as they walk toward the stairs. Lucas slows his pace and allows Sophie to walk in front of him, giving him the opportunity to flick her in the back of the neck.
“Hey! What was that for?” she cries as she turns to face him.
“For calling me a nerd, loser!” he replies. Now at the top of the stairs they both see their father waiting for them below. Realizing any further escalation will result in punishment for both of them, they independently act out of self-preservation and walk down the stairs without further incident. At the landing they are greeted by their father’s motioning arm gestures, directing them both towards the dining room.
“Go to the kitchen, get your drink and sit down at the table. Quietly,” he demands. Sophie doesn’t say a word and makes her way to the kitchen. Lucas stops in front of his father and once again drifts off in thought.
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Even at his young age, Lucas marvels at how his father is able to go from being loud and scary to calm and collected. He and his mother know how to push each other’s buttons, and do so effectively and frequently without a moment’s hesitation. They always make peace, and things go back to normal. He and his dad, however, have a different relationship. He can never figure out why, but he knows that his father treats him differently than either of his siblings. It’s not preferential or unfair, but he notices that he is given more leeway than his brother or sister. He can mess up more. Lucas never likes to make his father upset, and even more, hates the idea of disappointing him.
“Yes, Dad. I’m sorry,” say Lucas. Mr. Brown leans down and looks Lucas in the eye, his own displaying a mixture of softness and sincerity.
“Don’t be sorry. Think about what you are doing and stop antagonizing your sister,” he says. Lucas slumps his shoulders and looks down at his feet.
“Okay, I will try. But does she really have to play with me and Charlie tonight?” asks Lucas.
“Yes. You know that your mother and I want you two to spend more time with each other. You don’t have to become friends, but you both have to find a way to get along, especially when Tom isn’t here,” his father replies. Lucas looks back up at Mr. Brown and begins to respond, but is cut off by yet another yell from his mother, this one layered with frustration.
“Really, David? Now we are waiting on you, too? Grab your son and get him to the table, please,” she says. Mr. Brown smiles and puts his hand on Lucas’ shoulder, applying pressure to encourage him to move towards the kitchen.
“Great, now we’re both in trouble,” he whispers. The pair makes their way into the kitchen without saying another word. Lucas knows his father’s comment about them both being in trouble is a joke, but also that he should tread lightly with his mother and sister while eating dinner. Once in the kitchen, he goes to the cupboard and grabs a glass. He then walks to the refrigerator, which is covered in family photos and magnets from all of the states they have visited as a family. There are also various Christmas postcards from family members – some they see regularly and some that Lucas can hardly remember the last time he saw them. He opens the door, grabs the fruit punch and pours himself a glass.
“Hey Lou, bring in some napkins with you, please,” his father asks. Lucas grabs the roll of paper towels, stretches it out the length of his arm, and rips some loose. He folds them over on each other and proceeds to the dining room. He is stunned when he sees what food is prepared and awaiting him. He looks first at his dad, and his eyes grow large. His dad catches this expression and smiles. He then mouths, “Thank your mother.” Lucas sits down at his chair and realizes that no one has put any food on his or her plate yet.
“Why did you make meatloaf, mom? You only make it for special occasions.” Before his mother can respond, Sophie interjects, “Can we eat now that we’re all here?” Mrs. Brown flashes a stern look at Sophie but calmly replies, “Yes, go ahead. Help yourself everyone.” Sophie grabs the bowl of angel hair pasta before Lucas can manage to and starts to spoon some onto her plate.
“Now, now, there is plenty enough for everyone,” says Mrs. Brown. She reaches for the bowl of green beans and puts some onto her plate. “Dave, can you get some meatloaf for Lucas please and then pass me the pepper?”
“Sure thing, honey. Pass me your plate, Lou.” Lucas hands his plate to his father but remembers that his initial question to his mother has gone unanswered.
“Well, what’s the special occasion?” he asks. He notices Sophie smiling out of the corner of his eye and even his dad seems in on a joke, as he lets loose a tiny laugh. “Oh come on, everyone knows but me?” he asks as he reaches for a basket of freshly baked bread. Realizing that if she doesn’t say something, Sophie will spill the secret, Mrs. Brown puts down her glass of wine and smiles the purest smile you will ever see.
“I talked to your brother earlier today,” she says.
“So, what? You talk to him almost every day it seems like. What did he want?” Lucas replies. At this point Sophie’s face is red with anticipation, a fact not unnoticed by Mr. Brown.
“You better get to the good part or Sophie is going to beat you to it,” he says. Mrs. Brown takes a bite of her buttered bread and rests it back down on her plate. A small dot of butter somehow manages to find its way onto her cheekbone–a phenomenon not uncommon and as such goes unmentioned by her family.
“Tom is coming home early!” she exclaims. Lucas immediately sits up in his chair. He tries as hard as he can to not get too excited, but the thought of his brother being home again releases an uncontrollable wave of joy through his mind.
“How early is early?” he asks. Mrs. Brown, excited to see Lucas so happy, noticeably relaxes.
“He called this morning to let me know that his friends aren’t staying on campus as long as he thought, so he will be home tomorrow afternoon!” she replies. The thought of this being true sends Lucas into an emotional whirlwind. His older brother Tom is his best friend. Charlie is his closest friend from school, but Tom is his older brother. That means something. They did everything together growing up. If it were not for them being so many years apart in age, you could think they are twins. All the Brown men look eerily similar, across generations even, but the resemblance between Tom and Lucas is uncanny.
“Tomorrow afternoon? He wasn’t supposed to be home for another week!” he says while squeezing ketchup over his meatloaf.
Sophie, unable to contain her silence any longer, interrupts the conversation.
“I knew before you! I was with mom when she got the phone call!” she exclaims. The look on her face shows that she is the winner of a contest no one else knew they were participating in.
“Good for you, do you want a prize?” says Lucas indignantly. Quick to pick up on the tone in Lucas’ voice, his father breaks from his silent eating to quell any potential argument.
“We had asked your sister not to say anything so we could sit down as a family and share the news with you. We know how much you miss your brother.”
“I miss him more!” says Sophie. Mrs. Brown darts a glance at her husband. The intended meaning is surprisingly, correctly received.
“It’s not a contest, Sophie. I didn’t mean that only Lucas misses Tom.” Lucas groans and drops his fork down on his plate, resulting in a sharp clanking noise.
“I don’t miss him. That makes me sound like a big baby,” he says. Mrs. Brown, none too happy about the sound made by the dropped fork, responds, “Well you can call it whatever you want to, but you know you are happier when he is home.” Lucas reaches for another piece of bread; somehow already his third of the meal.
“Well, duh, if he is home then I don’t have to be stuck with her all the time,” he says.
“Don’t point at your sister, Lou,” his dad interjects. “And be nicer to her, you know she misses him too.” Lucas slumps down in his chair and pouts.
“Fine. Sophie, can you please pass the pasta?” asks Lucas. She looks at the bowl, which is clearly close enough for her brother to reach, and opens her mouth to speak. At the same instant she is met with a look from her mother and thinks better than to say what is on her mind. She instead grabs the bowl and hands it to her brother who graciously, but dramatically receives it from her.
“Thank you,” he says. A moment passes. One deemed just too long by her father, who looks at her disapprovingly. She notices and quickly replies, “You’re welcome.”
The remainder of dinner passes without further incident between the two Brown children. The family laughs at Mrs. Brown when she coughs and sneezes after eating her green beans covered in the pepper. Lucas makes sure to comment that it happens every time she puts pepper on her food but knows that it won’t stop her from continuing to do it in the future. Mr. Brown remains mostly quiet and enjoys his meal. He asks Sophie what she has been up to while in her room and chuckles to himself when she answers that she is listening to music. Sophie, to her credit, asks her brother what he and Charlie are going to do once he arrives, knowing that she will have to partake in the experience. Lucas, surprised by her interest, happily responds.
“We are going to start our new campaign!” he says. Any fleeting notion of enjoying the time she will spend with Lucas and Charlie quickly evaporates as she slumps down in her chair.
“Please tell me you’re messing with me,” she says. Noticing her displeasure, Mr. Brown takes the opportunity to steer the conversation.
“A new campaign? I thought you told me that you were months away from finishing the one you two have been playing through all year?” Lucas, excited to talk about his games, dives right at the chance to finally talk about the new one.
“Well, you’re right, that was the plan. But our party got to the gates of a new town and were kidnapped by the evil Lord who rules over the whole province,” says Lucas. Mr. Brown, to his credit, keeps a passing knowledge of his son’s games and what’s going on in them. He may not always understand exactly what everything means or how they are played, but Lucas’ imagination keeps him intrigued.
“Kidnapped? Your party was kidnapped? How did that happen? I thought they had just leveled up again?” says Mr. Brown.
Meanwhile, Sophie, resigned to her fate that she is indeed going to have to play with Lucas and Charlie, let’s out a loud fake snore.
“Borrrrrring!” she says. “Can I please be excused so I can go to my room and have a few more moments of happiness before Charlie arrives?”
“It is not boring. You are just too young to understand,” replies Lucas.
Knowing how negatively Sophie reacts any time Lucas comments on how she is younger than he is, Mrs. Brown breaks in before things get too out of hand.
“Now, now. Lucas, stop picking on her,” she says. And you need to be nicer to your brother. Yes you may go to your room until Charlie gets here.”
Sophie pushes her chair back and stands up. Plate in hand, she walks to the kitchen, puts the plate in the sink and goes upstairs to her room. Her footfalls are the perfect volume to be heard but not loud enough to seem obnoxious. Lucas looks over towards his father and smiles, “Women, am I right?” Mr. Brown lets out a laugh but cuts it short. He knows he made a mistake but also appreciates his son’s sense of humor. Mrs. Brown disapprovingly looks first at Lucas and then at her husband.
“I’m sorry Kate. But it was funny,” says Mr. Brown. Mrs. Brown, knowing it’s not worth the effort, puts away the argument and saves it for later.
“If you’re finished with your dinner you can clean up and go back up to your room,” she says.
She looks at the old clock on the mantelpiece, a family heirloom from David’s side of the family. It doesn’t match the décor of the room but somehow would be out of place if it were anywhere else. The stain that had been heinously put onto it had long worn away, leaving underneath the beautiful original Birch wood to shine through. A small clock as old family clocks go, it is no larger than a shoebox. Yet, carved into every inch of it are ornate figures ripped from fantasy and adventure lore. Tiny dragons flying over foggy mountaintops, dwarves digging deeper into their mines to find lost treasures, and even gangs of sprites tricking common folk out of their belongings, wraps around the clock. Definitely out of place in her house, but her sons’ love for it gives it a place of honor in their home’s formal gathering room.
“Charlie should be here in about half an hour. I know you like time to set up your over-world before you two start,” she says.
Lucas, shocked by his mother’s use of proper terminology, cannot hide the surprise on his face. Mrs. Brown notices her son’s reaction and lets out her own soft chuckle.
“I listen to you two and understand more than you know,” she says proudly.
Lucas smiles back and replies, “Sure, mom, whatever you say.” He gets up from the table to take his dish to the kitchen but notices his father motioning his head towards Mrs. Brown. Luckily, Lucas picks up on this and says, “Thanks for making the meatloaf mom. I am super happy that Tom is coming home tomorrow”.
Kate gets up from her chair, walks over to her son and gives him a hug.
“You are welcome. And I knew you would be. Now go and get ready for Charlie,” she says. Lucas prys himself free from the hug and groans, “You don’t always have to ruin it with a hug, mom.”
He walks to the entrance to the kitchen and turns to his dad and mouths “Thanks a lot”.
Mr. Brown, witty as ever, flashes a huge grin and says nothing while Mrs. Brown says, “Sure, son, whatever you say”.
Happy with her own wit, Kate laughs at her own joke and takes another drink out of her glass of wine. Lucas deposits his plate into the sink and runs upstairs. Sophie’s room is already playing the same music from before but the thought of her doesn’t cross his mind at all. His brother is going to be home tomorrow, his best friend is soon to be over to spend the night and the two of them are going to start another new adventure. He makes it to his room and deftly maneuvers through the piles of stuff, ending with a wild flop onto his bed.
He knows there is still much work to be done to set up his new game, but with all of the great news he got at dinner, he has a strong feeling that this game will be the best one they’ve ever had. He reaches over towards his desk at the foot of his bed and begins to rifle through the stack of legal pads and notebooks resting on top. Although there is a system to keep things organized, his adventure guides from one campaign are often used to augment those from other campaigns. For this new adventure, he has gone through them all, taking the best parts of each game he’s ever made to create the ultimate fantasy experience. He finally finds the notebook he is looking for and falls back down onto his back with it clutched in his hands. He extends his arms and looks at the cover, reading the title aloud, “The Felstone Chronicles: Trials of Sir Edwin the Brave”.