A few hours have past and looking at my room now, pink is not that bad of color. It really fleshes the room out. Gives it a feeling of youth. Oh, who am I kidding? I hate it. I hate it, but its way better than having a bunch of creepy masks and totems staring at me in my sleep.

While reclining on my lovely new pink and purple pooka-dotted bed, I retrieve my smartphone from my pocket. It was somehow spared from the previous sudden flood from earlier. At the moment I have nothing to do, so learning more about this town is a good way to pass time. I’m really curious about this town. I’ve always had at least a decent grade in geography, but I’ve never once heard of Wolfden, Illinois.

At the airport a few days ago, I tried to find Wolfden on the map. There was nothing. It was as if the town didn’t exist at all. When I asked grandma about this, she just said that the town was so small and forgettable that the cartographers must have forgot about it. I didn’t get it then, but I’m kind of starting to understand what she meant now.

The town of Wolfden is located about ten miles northeast of Galena, Illinois. My oddity of a grandmother not only lives here, but for some reason lives on the outskirts of the town on top of a hill. From the peak of this hill I could see nothing but trees. Mostly pine trees, but anything remotely resembling a town was nowhere to be seen. Confused, I again begged for my grandmother’s timeless wisdom. She just cackled and said that the town resides within the trees.

I remember the panic that overwhelmed me. I thought the crazy woman had somehow tricked me into joining her lifelong dream of a tribal lifestyle. In a way she kind of still did. Anyway, after enjoying the sight of my internal panic, grandma then enlightened me that the town and its residents were still eight miles east past the sea of trees. She’s a witch this woman.

Scrolling through social media on my phone, I’ve learned something vital about this mysterious town. It’s a place where millennials go to die.

No Wi-Fi.

No Reception. Complete information blackout. This is what I have learned after messing with this now useless device for about a half-hour. I am by no way addicted to the convenient entertainment found online. What kind of man would I be if I just crumbled at the seams because of this. It would be ludicrous. Thinking now, there are many ways to kill time in the countryside. I can enjoy a nice book found around the house. Become one with nature by relaxing outside and bathing in the light of the sun. I can- I can begin my lifelong dream of birdwatching. Yeah, birdwatching.

Feeling something rolling down my left cheek, I use my right hand to wipe it away. Examining my hand, I find that both my hand and cheek are moist for some unknown reason. My guess is that I’m still not one-hundred percent dry from my earlier shower.

“Wyatt! Come down for dinner!” I hear my grandmother’s voice coming from downstairs.

Looking out the window, the sun has long past disappeared from the sky. In its place is a beautiful full moon that outshines the others stars in the sky. It became this late with me even realizing it.

“Wyatt!” Grandma calls for me again, this time with a little more force than last time. Her patience must be running thin already. Great.

“Coming.” I jump out bed and make my way toward the kitchen downstairs.

Because my long jeans and pollo shirt were still drying, I decided to just wear a pair of red shorts and a white t-shirt for now. It’s the same combo I use for when I had gym class, but for some reason they feel comfortable enough to work as pajamas.

As my feet reach the bottom steps of the staircase, my nostrils are filled with home cooking. It’s a wonderful smell. It fills my body with an unmistakable warm feeling. I normally eat out, so this aroma and sensation almost feels completely foreign to me. A strange sound comes from within my abdomen. Thinking of delicious food is making me hungry.

The first floor inside of grandma’s house is not overly large, it only has a living room, a kitchen, a downstairs bathroom, and a storage room. The storage is for leftover Native junk. So, walking to the kitchen was quick and easy. Finding my grandma hopping up and down as well side to side over the food was even easier. I think this is what the older generation call dancing. It was strange nonetheless to look at.

“What you are doing?”

“Isn’t obvious?” She answered my question with another question.

“No, it isn’t.”

“I’m blessing the food, you ignorant child.”

“How, by summoning Satan?” Ignoring the strange ritual, I avoid my prancing old lady and grab a plate of food off the kitchen counter.

I take a seat at the table in living room. The table itself is made of wood and has weird totem faces carved into its four legs. On its surface there are drawings of stick men holding spears above their head. In some of the drawings the stickmen surround a beast with two curved horns on its head. My guess is that these drawings tell a story about how a group of men hunted buffalo.

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It all felt tacky. I thought after a day of being around all this stuff I would become immune or at least get used to grandma’s tastes. I hadn’t. It was like a flooding of culture shock down my throat. Looking at the food in front of me, I think I’m about to choke from it. On the left side of the plate is brown rice and red beans. On the right is a large piece of meat skewered by a single bone. Seemed like the perfect meal for a caveman.

“Aren’t you going to eat. It’s going to get cold if you don’t.” Like magic, grandma appeared sitting across from me at the table. I didn’t even notice her arrive. Maybe she is a witch.

“Grandma, what is this?” I ask pointing to the meat the size of a small dog. No matter how hungry I get, I in fact cannot eat a horse.

“It’s ox tail. I thought a growing boy needs plenty of protein.”

“T-thank you.” Despite how I actually feel, she did cook this for me. I have no right to really complain. Not out loud anyway.

We continue to eat in silence. I have the feeling that we’re both terrible with small talk. I guess that means we are related. I take a massive bite out of the ox tail. Its salty, but strangely satisfying. I notice that there are only two chairs seated at the table. There’s mine and grandma’s. Does that mean she doesn’t get much in the way company? Even the chair I’m sitting in is made of plastic and foldable. Grandma must be used to eating alone. I wonder if she gets lonely. What if she came all the way out here to be alone? Am I just disturbing her desired peace? Should I just leave?

“Stop making that face! You’re ruining my appetite. If you don’t like the food, you don’t have to force yourself to eat it.” Grandma spoke while looking up from her meal.

Apparently, I was making a face without even realizing it. She must have interpreted that I didn’t like her cooking. Which wasn’t true, but she can’t read my mind.

“Hey grandma.” I decide to start some small talk.

“What is it Wyatt? Is there too much salt on the meat?”

“No.” Yes.

“Then what is it?” There was a hint of frustration in her voice. Her wording and tone must come from her lack of people skills.

“Would it be better if I went back to Los Angeles?” Like I said, I’m terrible with small talk.

I stare right into her eyes. They are an emerald green, further highlighting her Irish heritage. Then she slowly opened her mouth and spoke.

“Why do you ask? Do you not like living here?” She answered my question with another question.

“No, expect for the excessive junk everywhere, I don’t have a problem living here. I was asking if it would be better for you?”

“For me? Wait, what junk? Never mind.” She let out a sigh, then continued.

“Wyatt, we both know that moving back to Los Angeles is not an option.”

“I know.”

“Then why bring it up at all?”

“Because I know I’m a nuisance. An inconveniency. A-“

“Stop talking like that!” Her fists impacted the wooden table with a loud thud. My eyes never left hers. The emerald within only reflected rage. Pure undisguised rage.

“I’ll be fine on my own. I can get a full-time job.”

“Then what! Where would you live? What would you eat? Do you know how to cook? Do you even know how to take care of yourself? There are not many high paying jobs for a sixteen-year-old boy! Besides, with your record who would hire you?” Grandma shot question after question in rapid succession.

“…” I kept my mouth shut. Even if I had an answer, I have a feeling anything I say would just anger her more.

“Despite what you may think Wyatt, I took you in not because I had to but because I wanted to! You are not a nuisance! You are my grandson!”

“A grandson you just met two days ago.”

“I don’t care. You are family. When a family member is in need, you help them. No ifs, ands, or buts.” After finishing her piece, grandma lowered her body back into her seat. At some point she didn’t realize she was standing.

I just look at her. Grandma’s words were completely novel to me. Family. Such a simple word, but I never knew it carried such a heavy meaning. She’s helping me, taking care of me, because I am her family. Because we share the same blood within our veins.

I don’t understand. A part of me doesn’t want to. If this is how family is supposed to act. If this is how family is supposed to think, then why did…

For the first time since this conversation started I break eye contact with the old woman. The reason is simple. I don’t know how to answer her. I am at a loss of words. I can’t accept what she is saying, but I can’t dismiss her words either. Because if I do, I feel I would miss something crucial.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why but I apologize to her. It’s the only thing I thought to say.

“Don’t be, it’s fine. I’m sorry for raising my voice.” Grandma’s wrinkled face becomes sullen and her body language is one of exhaustion.

The living room becomes filled with a deafening silence. I hate it, but I’m not sure what to say. Do I smile and say thanks for everything? Do I make a joke about the cooking to ease tension? No, that would just piss her off more. My mind is completely blank to the point of annoying me. C’mon brain think of something!

“So, what’s our plan for tomorrow? Since I’m done with unpacking and all.” Good job brain.

“You will be going to school tomorrow. I already enrolled you in the local high school.” Brain you are useless!

“I’m surprised they even have a school all the way out here.” Actually, I was more hoping that I wouldn’t have to go to school anymore.

“Well they do. I know I said high school, but it’s more like an elementary, middle, and high school crammed into one building.”

“Great.” My opinion of this place is dropping by the minute. Thinking about it more, beggars can’t be choosers. I am more surprised they let me enroll. No school wants a problem child with a bad record.

“Regardless about the quality of the education, the school is pretty far from my house. You are gonna have to wake up early to make it to class on time.” As grandma spoke, she raised her fork to continue eating her dinner.

“So what time are we driving over”

“Ha! That’s funny, Wyatt.” Her snickering almost makes her drop the fork in her hand.

“I was serious.”

“Wyatt, I don’t own a car. Actually, most of the residents in Wolfden don’t own a vehicle.” Why not? That makes no sense!

“Then what time does the bus arrive.”

“There are no bus stops in Wolfden either.” You have got to be kidding me!

Okay don’t panic. Don’t panic. Calm down. Breath. Breath in. Breath out. Wait didn’t this old bag tell me that the town was eight miles east of her house. Forget inner peace! Panic! Panic!

I look up from my plate and with pleading eyes ask my lovely grandmother a question.

“I’m going have to walk, right?

“You are going have to walk correct.” She responded without any mercy. There’s even an evil grin on her face.

This demon is going to be the death of me.