In the morning, I woke up with the first sound of the rooster. It was the best way to wake up. Dad had an old alarm clock that he used on me when I was younger and couldn't wake up. It was wound up, and if we didn't wake up from it, he would put it into a stock pot and tie the lid to the handles. That definitely woke us up. That was when I was way younger.
Today, getting ready felt strange. Not because I was going to procrastinate. I was leaving home.
Not for long. I was going to walk to Aaron's town, visit the art exhibit that he was going to participate in, and then come home. Maybe I'd stay a few extra days to explore the town. I mean, how long could it take to see everything in a City? Probably not much longer than it takes to see everything in a village. I mean, how much bigger could it be?
My siblings got ready for their day but waited to leave to say bye to me. It was a heartfelt goodbye with them. My youngest hugged me tightly. "I'm going to miss you." "Bring all of us back something cool."
I chuckled, "Yeah! For sure."
The two brothers, who were too cool for long goodbyes, just waved and left for work. The second brother waited to be last to leave for work and gave me a tight hug, "Look man. Get it out of your system and come back home. You always wanted something bigger. But this village and all the villages are safe compared to the evil world out there."
He sounded just like my dad, but I wasn't going to say that. I just said, "I'll come back, I promise."
He said, "You better."
My dad's farewell was brief and unexpectedly tender, a departure from his usual stoicism. He pulled me into a rare embrace, his arms wrapping around me in a firm but fleeting hug, the second time in a long time, crammed into a 12-hour time frame. It was an unusual display of affection from him; I couldn't recall the last time he'd hugged any of us kids, his embraces usually reserved only for Mom.
"Take care, Eli. Don't give in to evil. That's all the advice you need," he said gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of emotion. With those final words, he turned and walked out of the house, his steps heavy.
My uncle, who had been sitting by silently, rolled up to me as Dad left. He extended his hand, his face etched with a knowing smile. "That emotionless block of a man probably didn't give you any real advice," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
I snickered, but I remained silent, respectful of my father's effort.
My uncle leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "When I took a trip, my dad gave me good advice I've always obeyed: Don't add to the population, don't subtract from the population, and avoid getting scammed out of your money, health, and future."
I smirked, appreciating the humor and wisdom in his words. "Thank you, uncle. I'm grateful for the kind words of wisdom," I replied.
As everyone left, my mom lingered behind. She waited until Dad, my uncle, and my siblings had left before approaching me. Her eyes, usually happy, now brimmed with tears.
"Are you sure you want to go?" she asked, her voice soft and laden with worry.
I nodded, my resolve steady despite the emotional turmoil. "Yes, Mom. Besides, it's not for long," I reassured her.
Tears escaped her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks. "I really want you to be safe. To stay. But your dad let you go, so I'm not going to stand in your way," she said, her voice breaking with each word.
From the kitchen fridge, she brought out a sack of prepared lunches and jugs of water. "Here. This should be enough food for a few days for you to reach the city. Be careful, don't talk to strangers, and don't succumb to evil."
Adding the sack of food Mom had prepared to my packed bag, I stepped out of the house, the weight of her tears and worries pressing heavily on me. I couldn't let her sadness sway me, though; I had my parent's blessings to leave the village. I wasn't going to squander this opportunity.
Just past our white picket fence, I paused and looked around at my village, taking in the familiar sights one last time.
For a brief moment, I contemplated visiting my friends and classmates to say goodbye, but that would only delay my departure, giving me more time to second-guess my decision. I didn't want to risk that. Instead, I turned away from the village center, choosing the road less traveled by my peers—the road leading out of the village. The same road Aaron would disappear on, heading to the city. It was a path of uncertainty and excitement, one that promised a world beyond the confines of what I had always known.
As I walked closer to the village border, the outside world seemed to loom larger and more daunting with each step. My dad's frightening tales of what lay beyond our safe village began to echo louder in my mind. He had painted a world rife with wars, thieves, criminals, and degenerates.
I recalled the conversations between Dad and my uncle about the horrors reported in the news—murders in the nearby big cities, kidnappings of children who strayed too far from their homes. They often lamented the pandemics that ravaged populations, casting a shadow of fear over the unknown.
Dad's warnings also included tales of people mutilating themselves and others for incomprehensible reasons, painting a picture of a world gone mad. These stories were meant to instill caution, but now they stirred a mix of fear and anxiety within me. Could the world outside really be as perilous as they described?
I reached the border, marked by a simple stone on the side of the road. As a kid and teen, I explored almost all the grounds of the village, but I never dared cross this border. Sitting down on the ground, I looked at the stone and took a swig of water. It wasn't too far—maybe five miles from the village center. It wasn't too late to turn back, to go home and forget about this completely.
Just as I was considering my options, a truck rattled along further down the road, driving across the T intersection with the big road. Nope, I was not going to back off now. This was my chance to see the world beyond the village. With renewed energy, I got up and, before I could change my mind, started walking again, stuffing the bottle of water back in my bag.
Twenty minutes later, I finally made it to the T intersection with the big road. This one was large, with two lanes going in each direction. It still wasn't traveled very often, as far as I knew. But thankfully, there was a sign: Greenfield City was 60 miles away, and in the opposite direction, Mirage District was 700 miles away. Sixty miles wasn't that bad. I already walked five, so only twelve more times what I'd already walked. How bad could it be? I bet I walked at least sixty miles a day for work. Maybe?
"Alright, Eli," I muttered to myself, "you can do this." My footsteps echoed my determination as I set out towards Greenfield City.
"Sixty miles, You've got this." became my mantra for the day.
I walked until what I thought was noon, the sun high in the sky, casting shadows on the landscape. My watch was hidden deep within my pack, so I relied on my instincts to know the time. I paused on the side of the road, pulling out one of the sandwiches Mom had packed for me. It was just like her usual sandwiches but somehow tasted better.
"Thanks, Mom," I whispered, taking a big bite. The bread was soft and crusty at the same time, the vegetables fresh, and the cheese perfectly melted over the homemade and smoked sausage.
My mind wandered as I continued walking, creating stories about the people who might live in Greenfield City and the adventures they could have. In my imagination, my protagonist had powers beyond my wildest dreams, friends who supported him, and a guardian who protected him from harm. Unlike me, walking alone on this endless highway with only birds, deer, and the occasional truck for company.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I grew nervous. I was sure I had to be almost there, but the city still wasn't visible on the horizon. All I saw were more trees, shrubs, and the seemingly endless road.
"Keep going, Eli," I told myself, determination fueling my stride. "You've come this far."
Finally, as the day's light began to fade, I spotted a sign: "Rest area 1 mile, 30 miles to Greenfield City." I was horrified, realizing I had just barely made it halfway on my first day of walking. This rest area promised some protection, though. Maybe it was a safe zone for travelers to spend the night. Maybe it had a castle.
Before I knew it, I found myself standing in a large area with a bathroom sign on one of several buildings. Others looked like they had boxes filled with food, at least as far as I could see through the glass walls. Benches were scattered about, some with tables, some with metal boxes with grates on top. A giant billboard nearby marked the location as a historical site, pointing to a river and cliff and describing their natural beauty and significance in history. In front of one of the buildings stood a statue of a herd of cows running, frozen in time. At the far end, a cliff overlooked a breathtaking river, and off the edge, an impressive building hung precariously over the edge. The river was bigger than anything I had ever imagined, dwarfing even the rivers I saw on TV shows.
"Wow," I muttered, my eyes wide with wonder.
As I explored the rest area, I ventured inside one of the buildings and found bathrooms. On the door, there were symbols resembling triangles with smiles that I couldn't quite understand. Shrugging, I went into the cleaner-looking room, washed my face, and used the toilet.
Feeling refreshed, I walked into another building that housed various boxes of food. The displays featured numbers and descriptions like snacks, nuts, and drinks. Another section contained sandwiches and jerky. One corner showcased souvenirs, while another displayed an assortment of tech gadgets, none of which I recognized from the photographs or descriptions. A big red box caught my eye – it held emergency supplies and a few familiar pills. A sign read, "Tap here to pay." Unsure what to tap, I reminded myself that I still had food from Mom, although some of the items in the boxes looked tempting.
"Maybe later," I thought, trying to be practical.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange and purple glow across the sky, a shiver of unease crawled up my spine. The night was falling, and I had nowhere to go. This rest area didn't have any secure housing. No castle to protect me from bandits or vicious wild animals.
The thought of walking in the dark sent chills down my back; Dad's stories of nefarious deeds and lurking dangers seemed far more real when darkness enveloped me.
"Better find a spot to rest here," I mumbled to myself, scanning the area for the safest place to spend the night. I decided on a bench near the cliff's edge with a breathtaking view of the river far below. Sitting down, I leaned back, letting the cool metal press against my skin through my clothing as I watched the last light of day vanish, replaced by the first twinkling stars and a strange glow in a different direction, and then the sun just disappeared.
"Guess I'm sleeping here tonight," I said to myself, wrapping my jacket tightly around me. The night air was still warm, so at least I wouldn't freeze.
Sometime later, while lost in thought about constellations and memories of stargazing with Dad and Uncle, the sudden sound of a truck approaching snapped me back to reality. My heart raced as I heard the hum of the engine, followed by the screech of brakes. Whipping my head around, I saw the vehicle heading straight for me, and panic seized my chest.
"Should I run? Hide?" Thoughts raced through my mind as adrenaline surged through my veins. "I don't have any weapons... What if they're armed? With knives, guns... or something worse?"
As the truck's blinding headlights bore down on me, my heart pounded in my chest like a jackhammer. Desperate for some semblance of protection, I slung my bag over my shoulder and positioned myself behind a nearby table. It felt absurd, but it was better than nothing. My hands trembled, sweat beading on my forehead as I prepared for the worst.
Then, a familiar voice echoed out from the driver's seat. "I thought I recognized your oversized shoulders! Don't tell me you were preparing to jump off the cliff!" Relief washed over me like a tidal wave, and I blinked away the spots dancing in my vision.
"Is that... Aaron?" I muttered, squinting at the figure emerging from the truck. Sure enough, there he was – my friend that I was going to visit, grinning from ear to ear.
"Please don't tell me you came here to unalive yourself?" he called out, his tone playful yet laced with genuine concern.
"Ha! No!" I shouted back, feeling my fear dissolve into amusement. "I'm just taking your invitation and heading to your place for the art exhibit!"
Aaron howled with laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, you're in luck, my friend. Want a ride?"
"Are you kidding?" I strode toward the truck, my legs still shaky from the adrenaline rush, hands gripping my bag like it had threatened to leave me.