Be Not Easy

Chapter 1

The heat is blistering. My back is burning on a hundred different levels, and it doesn't seem like it'll stop anytime soon. I squint ahead, looking for some type of shade and all I see is some shrubs; nothing but a bush or two. Hopefully, when I get up there I'll see something else...

Its discouraging, really. Walking for an hour straight in the same direction can really dash ones hopes. Especially if that particular someone is lost. I was frankly stupid to assume that "keeping to the road" was a simple task, and I was even more stupid to turn down the offer to drive me to the bus station. But what can I say? Catching a ride with a complete stranger who smelled like horseradish didn't seem like a rational choice, so I turned her down. Sue me.

My eyes wander up ahead again and the bright sky stings them. Still shrubbery, but just a little closer now. The brows across my forehead are in need of desperate trimming and they catch the sweat before it reaches my eyes.

I'm honestly starting to rethink this, what seemed a like a solid idea in my head yesterday looks a lot like crap now that I'm being grilled medium rare. The plan was simple: catch a ride into Loresville, try to find Ms. Suttles, get her to help me, and find a way back home. The last part was obviously easier said than done. I guess you don't think about that when you're starved for information, when you feel like you're just on the edge of figuring out yourself.

That feat couldn't be any harder because the truth is, I've changed. Over the years, my resolve became slightly amiss; there was something missing and it left an empty chasm deep in the pit of my stomach. It felt like a tiny leak at first but the more I waited the more it expanded, like some black hole threatening to consume my sanity.

This journey was supposed to end it.

I trudge past the bushes and see a bend, not exactly exciting, but it is variation and that I appreciate. This road is a dirt one, not too many cars come and go on it I suppose. Not that they'd have any reason to - Loresville is crud. Okay, that's a bit harsh. It' s just that it's quite plain and I haven't seen a bit of life since stumbling into it. The buildings were strewn about like broken toys and everything is covered with dust. Even the people.

That's the very reason why I'm sure I landed my happy behind in the wrong town, just to find it was the right town but just the wrong time. According to the clerk, Ms. Suttles left for vacation 2 days ago, and on that note I was definitely bummed. I caught a ride with Mr. Vincent's son, and like a proper gentleman he dumped me in front of the Dollar General and sped off in his red pick-up shouting that I'd better have a bus pass.

What a fool - of course I have a bus pass. No one catches a ride with young Vincent and expects to get home the same way, I know that much.

Up ahead stands a bus stop off to the right of the road. It stands like a beacon of salvation, and I put a little pep in my step, relief surging through my veins. But when I get closer, my joy wavers a little. It's bent over to the left, and so rusty you woulda thought it was paint. The sign looks scratched up, and one of the bolts are missing.......does this place go through maintenance? And then a horrifying thought goes through my head - do buses even come here anymore?

That thought alone is enough to send a shiver throughout my sweaty body. You will not think like this. No, you cannot think like this.

Despite my lurking thoughts, I take a seat on the cracked ground in the form of a plop. If the bus comes, the grass is short enough to see it coming. If it doesn't, well then I suppose it shall be my time to die. I lean back on the sign and stare up at the clouds.

My heart is a stone thumping over and over deep in my chest, and dissapointment fills the void where my stomach is. Coming to this place was completely on a whim, solely out of excitement. I can't help but imagine the possibilities of what I could've found. What would my birth mother look like? Would she have dark skin like mine? Or perhaps my father gave me that - but what of him? Maybe he was someone important, like an official or something. I picture some sight of a regal man, tall and hairy with a birthmark on his shoulder. Wait, you can't inherit birthmarks....