The City of Chryselia

Chapter 1 

The droning of July’s cicadas harmonizes with the humming engine of a beat-up green Dodge. Its tires kick up red dust on the Oklahoma dirt road. The truck pushes a breeze of soil and air through the fields of wheat and corn as it passes a small farm with a pasture full of horses. Several of them run alongside the truck until the end of their enclosure. The young driver looks in the mirror to watch them walk back towards their barn and sees his own dark green brown eyes surrounded by sunburnt pink skin and a mess of dark brown hair. He rolls up the windows as he passes a small pasture of a dozen cows and pulls into the gravel driveway of another small farm. The barn doors are open, and chickens roam around the yard pecking away at small bugs while the horses walk the length of the fence following the truck and hoping for a treat from the young man exiting.

"I'll come back and see y'all when I'm done," He says to them, retrieving several bags of groceries from the truck. While walking through a small garden filled with patches of vegetables, roses, and all manner of flowers, he tries to avoid stepping on any of the chickens. Jumping up the porch steps, he kicks the door three times and waits for an answer.

The white inner door opens to a gruff man with a graying brown, untrimmed beard and messy hair, deep green eyes, and a dirty set of farming clothes in the entrance. He studies Norman for a moment before opening the screen door and letting him in.

"Anything left in the truck?" He asks, stepping aside to let the young man in and taking half of the bags off his arms.

"Thanks, Joey. No, I've got it all. I just got a few groceries and ran to the library, so it's not much." The young man says as he walks through the cluttered living room full of books, plants, and half-repaired furniture and into the kitchen, where he begins to put away the groceries.

The large, gruff man follows him and places the rest of the bags down before pulling a thick novel from one of the bags. "Well, Norman, what are you reading now?" The gruff man asks as he flips the book over to inspect the back cover.

"Never heard of it before, but it sounds interesting. I think it's about a fantasy world where people summon magic creatures."

"Sounds like crap to me."

"Well, you never liked fantasy that much. I think Aunt Rosa would have thought. The main character has her attitude."

"Yeah." Joey sighs, turning and walking back to his recliner in the living room and clicking on the small TV. “She always liked a good story. No matter the genre.”

Norman finishes putting away the groceries and heads to his room. The walls are lined with posters of movies and shows that he loves, and the shelves are full of books of all kinds. Fiction, Nonfiction, Fantasy, Farming, Mystery, and so many more. He flops on his small bed with the new book and flips to the back. Skimming through the summary, he hears the gentle whine of the horses outside, making him set the book back down on his bed and head outside.

"I'm gonna go take care of the animals, Joey," Norman shouts as he leaves the front door.

"Will you water the garden too, please?" Joey shouts back at Norman as he is halfway out the door.

"Will do!" He hollers back and jumps off the porch.

The hot wind has picked up and almost covers the buzz of cicadas as he walks through the clear day towards the barn. The horses meet him in their stalls, and he gives each some scratches and treats. He feels a small peck on his boot and looks down to see that the chickens have followed him in, also expecting something. He grabs a handful of seed and scatters it around their coop before heading into the pasture to see the cows. He makes sure they are all well before walking through the rest of the field to a small patch of trees that have collapsed onto an old barn. The area overlooks a small pond right on the edge of their land. He comes here often when the weather is nice to watch the animals and relax outside. Lying there, he begins to think about the fact that school will be starting again. The only thing it fills him with is annoyance and hate. Hating that he will be stuck in a brick room with a bunch of people who make fun of him for being an isolated weirdo. Just because I would prefer to read and hang out with animals than with them doesn't make me a weirdo, he thinks, staring at the reflection of the sun in the lake.

Even the football coach dislikes him because he refuses to join the team every time he asks. The only places in school he even cares for are art class and the library, where he could escape into new worlds or creations. He loves painting, and many of his school pieces adorn the walls of their small home.

He lies there, contemplating the next year ahead while watching the sun set behind the horizon. Can’t I just be homeschooled? Thoughts flow through his head as he walks back up to the house through the garden. Grabbing the watering can and filling it with the hose, his head continues to race. I’m more responsible than most people my age. Thinking while carefully watering each plant that his aunt always cared for when she was alive. If only we had internet, I could do school online. Walking in, he opens the door quietly just in case Joey is asleep. A good idea since he is passed out in the recliner with an empty whiskey glass in his hand. Norman silently walks over, takes the glass from his uncle's loose grip, and sets it on the coffee table. He grabs a blanket from the other chair and places it over his uncle before heading to his room. He throws himself back in his bed, kicks off his boots, and turns on the small reading lamp above his bed frame. Cracking open the new book for the first time, and descends into a new world—a new escape.

BANG. Norman shoots up out of bed. A gunshot? He must have dozed off while reading. BANG. A second shot rings out from right in front of the house. Norman rushes out of his room, grabs a knife from the kitchen, and tiptoes towards the entryway barefoot. The front door is open, illuminating the entryway in both moonlight and a flickering orange glow. He creeps up to the door frame and peeks around it. BANG. A third shot rings out, blinding and deafening him for a moment. He flinches from the shot and sees Joey standing on the porch, aiming his rifle into the pasture. Which has now been set into a blazing inferno.

Cows scatter and moo in anger and discomfort. The fire spreads fast across the dry pasture ground and up the side of the barn like a wave. “What’s happening?” Norman yells in terror.

Joey snaps his glance to Norman for a brief second before returning to his scope. “One of our cows is dead. There’s people in the pasture, and one of them just set it on fire!” He yells. BANG! Another shot rings in Norman’s ears. Joey sprints towards the pasture, yelling something Norman can’t hear.

The fire in the barn begins to grow, and Norman hears the horse whining in protest. His legs move before he can really think, and he grabs the hose. Spraying as much water as he can before ditching it and running straight into the blazing barn. He unlatches each gate, freeing the horses back into the other field away from the inferno. He grabs the hose again and begins to spray the barn around the chicken’s coop. The squawk and cluck at him in anger as they are sprinkled with water.

Sirens begin to sound from down the street. They grow louder, and their lights begin to illuminate parts of the field. Norman looks for Joey but can’t find him around the corner of the barn. The first firetruck pulls into their gravel drive and begins spraying the barn. Norman releases the chickens to get them away from the thick spray, not fighting the flames. After they are all out, he sprints towards the pasture and finds Joey standing sullenly, his rifle limp in his hand. Norman approaches him and sees what he’s staring at. A young woman, no older than twenty. She’s dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a flannel shirt that’s now stained with blood. Blood coats her mouth. In her hand is a bloody sword, a bit longer than a yardstick, with a brilliantly beautiful ruby embedded in the crossguard. Next to her, a cow lies dead. Thick wounds line its body.

“Back up! Back up!” Shouts begin to call from behind them. “Drop the rifle and put your hands where we can see them.” Joey does as instructed, and Norman follows. “Now turn around.” They do so and are blinded by the flashlight pointed at them. The voice begins to turn softer. “Joey? Is that you? Are you alright?”

“I am,” Joey says, squinting.

The flashlight clicks off, and they recognize the figure of the sheriff, Markus Delmont. “Why don’t you two come up to the porch so we can find out what happened here?” Everything begins to blur as the adrenaline wears off and the sheriff guides them back to the house. Sitting on the steps helps clear Norman’s head, but not much.

“Joey. Please tell me what happened.” The sheriff says.

“I was asleep and began to hear crying from one of my cows. I got up and grabbed my rifle, thinking it was a coyote or something. There were three people, and they were…” He trails off.

“It’s okay, Joey, take your time.”

“Two were drinking the cow's blood.” Joey says hesitantly.”The other was running towards them, shouting something. I couldn’t hear him. When I took the first shot, I hit the girl, I think. The second shot hit the one in the back. I missed the third one with both of my last shots.”

“And what did you see, Norman?” The sheriff glances over to him. “Anything different?”

“I woke up to the first shot. By the time I got to the porch, he had already fired again. I never saw the people he was shooting at. Not until I saw the woman in the pasture.” Norman explains. “I was too worried about the animals to think of much else. The fire spread to the barn fast. I went to get the horses.”

“Thank you both. I’m going to grab an EMT to make sure you both are completely okay.”

A few minutes later, a young man in an EMT uniform and mask approaches them with anger in his eyes. “How are you two feeling?”

He is followed by an older man in the same uniform and with a white glass eye. “No need to be so short, kay’.

“Yes, sir.” The young man says and begins to listen to Norman’s lungs with a stethoscope. The man pulls a rubber mask attached to a cylinder and places it on Norman’s face. He inserts a small device at the end. “Breathe,” he instructs. “It’s an inhaler. It will help clear up your breathing.” Norman does as instructed and feels his heart beat a bit faster, but his lungs clear from the small amount of pain the smoke caused.

Norman stares out into the pasture of smoldering grass and complaining cows. Half of the barn has been singed black. He’s unsure what kind of damage it actually sustained. The police and firemen work together to ensure the remaining embers are snuffed out. He watches for another few hours as the police navigate through the pasture. Occasionally, one stops and places a flag in the ground. Another car pulls up, and the police load a body bag containing the woman into the back.

Sheriff Delmont approaches them again, a small smile of compassion on his face. “I think we are done here for the night, but we will have to come back and look around tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Joey replies. “Are we free to head inside?”

“Yes. Try to get some sleep. Both of you.” He tips his cowboy hat to each of them before turning towards his vehicle.

Norman and Joey stay sitting on the steps until each of the cars pulls away. They go back into the house and sit in the living room chairs. The clock on the wall reads 3:12 am. Joey stands after a few minutes of silence, and Norman can hear him rifling around in the kitchen before returning with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He pours a large one for himself and a smaller one for Norman and hands it to him without a word. Joey drinks his silently in one large gulp and lays his head back against the chair. “Are you okay, Norman?” He asks quietly.

“I think so,” Norman says. “I’m not completely sure.”

“That’s okay. Sometimes it takes time to process events this big. I’m here if you need to talk about it. Or anything you know?” He asks at the end.

“I know. Thanks.” Norman says, setting down his still full glass of whiskey and standing. “I’m going to try and sleep.”

“Me too. Come get me if you need anything.” Joey says as Norman walks to his room.

Norman strips out of his soot-covered clothes and into a clean pair of shorts before he flops onto his bed. He grabs the book he was reading, riffling through the pages to find where he was before he fell asleep. He takes the words in, escaping and placing his mind in the fantasy world of magic creatures and magicians. Sometimes when he reads before bed, they follow him into the short dreams he can never remember.