The Ocean’s City

I was up before anyone else was. The slightest signs of a sunrise had me giving up on the sleep I already lost. I was careful to crawl out of bed and not wake Fran. I walked out to the porch and studied the men’s sleeping arrangements. They had dwindled in number over the night, and now only three remained. They slept around the fire. I’d feel bad if they weren’t some illusion of real cowboys. They didn’t have a roof over their heads like I have.

The fire embers crackled and glowed on the porch in the cold morning air; I could feel its warmth as I walked to the chair to sit and wait for the sunrise. Before I sat, I saw it had words carved into it. Silvestia Baxs, My loving wife.

My lips pouted as I read the chair, but I sat in it despite my emotions. Anger fumed in me so fiercely I could walk on the embers barefoot and not feel a thing because my rage was hotter than any fire. Not only had I been entirely in the dark and got Dannie killed when I tried to escape, but I was left behind. I felt so out of control of my life— like a rag doll that Dalton could toss around any way he pleased.

My eyes stared at the embers crackling in their final stages of life without even bothering to blink. What could I do? I was the helpless damsel who waited in a castle, or in this case, the Wild West, guarded by dragons, or in this case, cowboys, waiting for my knight in shining armor, Dalton, to come to save me.

“You are staring at that fire like it has wronged your family.”

I glanced away from the fire to see Jones, fully dressed, leaning on the porch railing.

“It pretty much has.”

“How so?”

I wasn’t sure, but somehow Dalton either created this reality or he could manipulate it. Anything he has touched is an object that has wronged me and my life. I bit my tongue, deciding not to tell Jones that. It was too early in the morning.

“Why is Fan afraid of you so much?”

Jones sighed, pulling his body up to sit on the porch railing. “She will come around.”

“Does she know the truth?”

His eyes twinkled slightly before his face turned to a stern expression. “About what Silvestia?”

“Never mind.” I was already feeling delusional. Did Dalton even exist, or was I just going crazy?

…

I was absolutely going crazy sitting around the farm helping Fran with the daily chores. We sat in the house, rocking our chairs back and forth as we worked on stitching some clothes.

“I swear, Silvestia!” Fran grunted for the fourth time in frustration as she inspected my stitch work. “That bump on your head should have been something else because there’s no way you forgot how to stitch.”

“Well, there is another explanation why I don’t know how to stitch,” I responded, struggling with the simple needle in my hand. I knew I shouldn’t try, but I needed to know if Fran knew or if she was just a figment of Dalton’s imagination.

“And what would that be?” Her tone hinted she knew where this was going. I hid my smirk as I continued.

“I never learned?”

“Never learned?” She shouted. “Now, are you just trying to get out of helping with the chores? I remember Mama teaching us how to stitch very well. What on earth do you mean never learned? I watched her every movement. If she did know, she wasn’t letting on. I nibbled on my lip, praying she was just an outstanding actress.

“I didn’t grow up here. I grew up in the city.”

Fran’s facial expression fell, looking completely worried. “If you live in the city, how did you end up here?”

“I was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped… right… by who?”

“Dalton. He has the scary ability to alter reality.”

“and Dalton brought you here?”

“Well, he brought me first to the ocean city, but I escaped back to the real world, and then he brought me here.”

“So you are saying this isn’t the real world?”

I shook my head no.

“Wow…” Fran looked into my eyes, searching for any signs I was lying. “You hit your head really hard.” Her act didn’t falter once, forcing me to revisit that fear that it was all in my head. Perhaps I just badly wanted someone to be in the same boat as me like Dannie had before.

I was going to continue, but then the door to the house swung open, and Jones came in. He looked utterly pissed. And his gaze landed directly on me.

Fran froze like a fainting goat.

I stumbled. Could Jones hear us? Memories of my dreams, now nightmares, flashed before my eyes.

“Fran,” He spoke, holding back a snarl. “Could you please step out for a minute? I need your help with something…”

Her voice was utterly meek. “I’m busy.”

The sound of him grinding his teeth rang through the quiet room. “Very well.” He huffed and made his way to the chair across from us. “I’ll wait.” Our small farm owned three rocking chairs. Each has a carving for Dalton, Fran, and me.

Fran’s fear practically ran rampant in the room. Her guilty gaze met his knowing one. Or was I just making up a story in my head?

“Why the hostility, Jones? Is everything alright?” I asked, trying my best to pretend like Fran had with me. If she was even pretending.

“No…” he rocked the chair back and forth as he petted his beard. “I don’t think there is a reason for me to be angry. Is there?” His question was directed towards Fran.

“No, Jones… I just complained to my sister how convenient it is; she also forgot how to sew.”

He was silent for a second, then let an eerie laugh rip through the tiny house. His hand slapped his knee. “My, my Silvestri! We might need to call the doctor back if you bumped your head that hard.”

My eyes narrowed on him, not missing the threat. My heart picked up the pace as I was all too aware of Dalton’s methods. I looked into his eyes, struggling with that egging thought in my brain that would come and go with so much uncertainty. At this moment, I wouldn’t be shocked if it was Dalton playing some kind of mind game on me.

“There’s no need to call the doctor. I was simply pranking my dear sister.”

He rocked the chair forward as his eyes darted between Fran and me. “Well… you two are always busy with the sisterly pranks.”