CHAPTER 1: Content and Discontent

Benjamin was a rather lonesome teenager. He’d find joy in the simplest of things. Such were his games, his books and his hikes at the nearby grove.

He always thought of his imagination as his most powerful weapon in life. Always dreamt of distant lands and exciting adventures.

The towering trees of the town’s grove proved to be a stable source of ideas for that very pool of fantasy. Their swinging brunches creaked by the light breeze, and their old trunks, often hollow, provided an ideal nest for Benjamin and his galloping imagination.

One such time, Benjamin, or as he prefers to be called, Benji, was swept by the light breeze and the aromas of the forest, into a deep slumber.

When he woke up, the large orange disc of the sun was half sunken into the horizon. His mind raced, and panic almost got a grip on his thoughts. My father would be worried.

He lifted the old blue backpack off of the ground, and began treading along the path to town. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. I could take a shortcut by the Crown.

The Crown as the locals called it, was a rock formation, the two sides of which rose up vertically as if trying to reach each other to form a full circle.

The familiar dirty path led Benji into a small meadow teeming with the echoes of the emerging nocturnal wildlife. Cicadas fell silent as the chirps of the crickets filled the atmosphere with their soothing rhythmic sound. Numerous fireflies lifted their bodies onto the air, covering the surroundings with a star-like radiance.

At the same time, Benji approached the Crown, and when his steps brought him on the other side of it, a nauseating feeling surged throughout his body. He stumbled momentarily and put his palms on his knees to breathe. What a strange feeling.

He took in the light breeze and while the last few rays of sunlight still shone upon the town, he began descending the hill.

Stonewood, a small town nestled between two hills and an expansive valley, laid before his eyes. The street lights shone brightly all over the picturesque enclave. Benji could see his home from where he stood, as well as a familiar manly figure at the front porch, his father.

The clean orange tiles of his family’s rooftop stood out like a beacon, surrounded by several old, unmaintained houses.

In Benji’s eyes though, the small rural town held an unparalleled rustic charm and an admirable sense of community.

As he strolled through the cobblestones of the town’s square, the local shops rolled down their shutters, and the first customers began gathering at the local eateries and pubs.

“Your father is worried, Ben,” a rough old voice echoed in Benji’s ears.

He turned around hastily. “It’s alright, Mr. Brown. I am heading home.”

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The old baker shook his head in disappointment and scoffed as if to reprimand him, before disappearing inside his store.

Ben felt his ears redden. He was always afraid of old-man Frank.

He jutted forward, and leapt over the park’s fence leaving a cloud of dust behind. The low shrub gave way to his feet, and before long, the pitch black, newly laid, asphalt street of his neighborhood opened up before him. The sun was now set, and the first stars began popping up around in the night sky. The moon hung brightly beside them, and his father, ever vigilant, leaned against the wooden fence of their porch.

When he got a glimpse of Benji, his head shot up, and his eyes gleamed with joy.

Benji could never understand his excessive worry, but did all he could to not trigger it too much.

“Hello, dad,” he said as he approached the house.

“Benji! Where have you been?”

“Out at the grove. Got asleep in a tree trunk, believe it or not,” he said slightly chuckling. His father wasn’t strict, nor one to parent through punishment, so Benji felt all the more his angst.

“You know how it is. Just don’t go out alone after dark,” he said, his tone tinged with a strict undertone which rang weird in Benji’s ears.

He squinted while opening the small outer gate, and glanced toward his father who was already by the door, and turned as if remembering something important. “Did you pass by the Crown by any chance?”

Benji was taken aback. How does he know?

“Yeah… I did,” he mumbled. “The fireflies were all around. Their light was brighter this time.”

“Hmm,” his father managed to say and momentarily mumbled something Benji couldn’t really comprehend, before continuing. “So, tell me about that tree trunk. I bet it was comfortable enough to make you fall asleep.”

Benji thought that his reaction was unusual, but decided to shrug it off. Most of his own thoughts were still occupied by the nausea he felt on the hill by the Crown, but decided not to worry his father about such a trivial matter.

“Benji?” his father called, seeing him lost in thought.

“Oh… It was nice and warm. You know how it is when I read at the grove.”

“Yes, I know,” he chuckled and brought his left arm around Benji’s shoulders, accompanying him inside the house.

The steep staircase invited their feet as they yearned towards it. The old wooden stairs creaked, and all along the ascension, Benji recounted the day’s adventures to his father.

After a hearty dinner and some more talk, they decided that it was late enough for them to sleep. Benji went through his bedtime routine, as boredom and tiredness threatened to consume him.

He looked up at the bathroom mirror but he immediately shut his eyes as if the light was too bright for him to bear it. He felt the floor liquify and almost lost his footing. Simultaneously, a ringing sound echoed inside his head, and flapping his hands around, he tried to hold on to anything to steady himself. With both hands grabbing the sink, the floor gradually solidified, and before long, the ringing sound and the dizziness subsided.

He breathed heavily. Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead and into the sink. With worry etched on his face, and a growing sense of unease, he retreated into his bedroom.

The dim moonlight, coming from the half open curtains of the room, tore an ethereal wound through the darkness of its interior. Benji, having his room mapped in his head, navigated easily toward his bed.

The small bed, wrapped by two layers of black and green blankets, welcomed his tired body onto its confines.

As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing just beyond the edge of his perception. He sighed and pulled the curtain close. As his vision grew darker, he managed to bypass his own inner turmoil and surrender into a deep sleep.