First Gen Drafts, pt. 4
Note: This is a random excerpt from a story I’m currently working on. Here’s the jist…
Earth is not the only messed-up place in the universe. Across the portals, there lies a land with an eternally full moon and an ever-changing sun. A land full of nations, struggles, and cultures completely foreign to Earth known as the Realms. Whenever the Earth and the Realms are both dark- with a new moon and new sun- their realities form a bond- creating portals between the two worlds. Though accidents have happened before, portals are mere swirls of energy- energy that’s good at finding anomalies and sending them back where they came from.
The fate of the Realms changed drastically when not one but two ruling families found their heirs missing- both now at home in Brookwood, Colorado. One a teenager, the other a baby- both make their homes on Earth, unaware of their origins. Years go by, and the former- crown heir to Murdoch- finds himself a hotel manager with an ever-changing roster of kids and a faith unheard of back home, while the latter, is slowly growing into the giant king he was born to be- finding himself spending half his Walmart paycheck on food.
However, they will not be the only people portal-jumping. The lost heirs and some of their fellow Earth wanderers band together, crossing over to the Realms for good. They stay together in Mondon, the heart of Murdoch, before splitting across the map of the Realms. They each work to make their home in the Realms somehow- becoming powerful, having families, or just trying to survive. Yet, as their ideals begin to clash, the group crumbles, paving a way for the next generation to reform a once strong alliance. All of them sit in the wake of their own destinies- anxious, curious, and excited to see them unfold but, most of all, wanting freedom.
What I picture Jethro’s original house/living room looking like. When he lives alone, I doubt he’d be into flamingo pillows or maintaining any house plants.
His dad was an army man through and through- high hopes, high expectations, high stamina. He’d come home from duty only to immediately turn around and train his son in everything he could, tell him everything he was learning himself. Mostly he trained Jethro to learn fast- and well. Jet was certain his dad could do just about anything- but he was, well, there I guess. He was usually training for a boss battle or major invasion whenever his dad was off training for real ones. It was late one night when he found the note, only illuminated by the dim blue light of the loading screen. “I’m so sorry” it started, his mother’s handwriting rushed and scattered- detailing how she was so lonely, so restrained. How she wanted more, wanted freedom, was tired of the constant change only to be left alone in a new place. She just couldn’t take it anymore she said. So she had to go. Had to go be her own person somewhere new. Maybe one day she’d come back, she said. Finished by promising Jet could always call her, and so could he. She wasn’t angry, just tired.
That was the last time Jet saw his mother for 2 years. She didn’t pop up again until the day he went off to bootcamp, only to plead for him not to go- not to wind himself and some poor girl with the life of a solider. He’d sigh, shrugging off the woman too weak to just stay. To not run. To not leave when she should’ve known she was always loved. He thought she wanted to come to see him but he got on the plane, beating himself up for expecting anything less.
Jet couldn’t sleep the night he found the note. Just sat slumped on the couch, controller beside him, as he stared into the eyes of his ever-fidgety character on the screen. The blades of grass swaying behind the menu overlay gave him an odd sense of peace- like there was a place out there where people didn’t do this. Where things were normal. Where it was purely good battles, advancement, and quests. A place where things only got better, only made more sense for men like his dad and him. Men who worked, trained, and loved. Places where your character never found notes from now ex-lovers. His sense of comfort became intertwined with the CGI grass, with the world at a high FPS. He picked back up the controller, stuffing the gushing wound under gun upgrades and new map chunks.
The sun creeped through the blinds slowly but surely, and when it hit 600 hours, he figured he should call his dad. He usually only called on Saturdays or emergencies, so his dad’s voice was urgent on the Thursday morning. “What’s wrong?” His voice was steady yet demanding.
“Um… I don’t know how to tell you this, but um, Mom left you a note and, uh, I don’t think she’ll be here when you get back.” Jet’s voice shook through the phone, unsure how to break the news of a divorce between his own parents
All he heard were noises for a while. Not crying per say, nor pure silence, but just noise. As if his dad was simply thinking, swaying between pain and contemplation. Finally, after a few minutes, he sighed, “I’m so sorry bud. I’ll see if I can get leave this weekend.”
Jet nodded solemnly as if his father could see him, “Yes, sir.”
“We’re in this together, okay?”
He nodded again, “Yes. sir.”
“Thanks for calling me.” It was the softest Jet had ever heard his dad’s voice.
“Sure thing, sir.”
“Take the day off school. I’ll see if I can get you excused.”
“Thank you, sir.”
School started at 7 a.m. and there was no way he wanted to make it. Doubted he could focus anyway. He returned to his couch and didn’t get up much until his dad came home that weekend. Flew in from some random place, he said, some base that needed some thing that only Dad could do. Jet just nodded and listened as his dad muttered on about all that he’d been doing on base, grabbing a beer as he watched his son fight his own pixelated battles.
Took a solid few hours before they finally broached the absence in the room. “So, about Mom-”
“She left a note.” Jet interrupted, pointing to the entryway.
His dad left his beer and simply read it, only letting a few grimaces and headshakes escape his stoic veneer. “All I got is sorrys, Aero.” He shook his head, filing the note away in his pocket. He then went into his once-shared bedroom, inspecting what was still there- Jet guessed. It’d been 72 hours for him already, his outer self numbed by Xbox achievements, beginning a long marathon of ignoring the new fears and anxieties that quaked within him. A new sense that anyone could leave. At any time. For any reason. Without any warning. But he didn’t think about that. He needed a better gun- reload was too slow against the new type of enemy.
His dad came back in and merely sighed again. “Well, I guess we’ll find some new normals then.” He looked at Jet, “Let’s talk.”
Jet nodded, pausing the game and turning towards his dad as he returned to his beer. “Jet, you’re a strong-willed man. You never wait and you never sway- remind me of me. This means a lot more of you and me- and a lot more of just you. But I’m always a call away. You can take this like a man. I know you can. And you’re gonna have to become a man- lock doors, make dinner, keep yourself checked.” His speech went longer but that’s most of what Jet got. Then they went shooting, grabbed dinner, and spent the weekend practicing all of his dad’s favorite things- guns, swords, and mechanics. He introduced him to all the neighbors, displaying the new lonely kid on the block and asking them to keep an eye out for him.
Then it was Sunday night and his dad left again to be back at some point. The neighbor lady gave him a ride home from the airport and on his way back in he noticed an old car rusting away in the garage. Dad’d taught him some skills on it- made him watch how to do this and that. So, he picked that up too. Figured it was something to do when his eyes got tired of blue light and pixels.
And that was his next two years- game, school, car, repeat. Then 18 he enlisted because he couldn’t figure much better to do and Dad loved the idea anyway. Dad was in and out but whenever he was home, Jet and him did everything together and he absorbed everything his dad taught him. His dad always raved over the car, always asked about the latest release, brought home a new upgrade or skill for them to master. But they never even mentioned mom again- as if she’d never existed in the first place.
Over the years, the unmentioned pain took its toll on both of them. His dad’s stack of empty beer cans got larger, Jethro’s “hours played” got longer- both men clutching their choice of anesthesia. One weekend when his dad came back, he didn’t even ask Jethro to pause his game, simply slumping his older body into the couch and muttering over well-played rounds or ridiculous story choices. And he never really asked Jethro to pause again- making a habit out of a pack of beers and letting his speech turn to mutters turn to snores as his son sat glued to the calm, blue screen, watching his remaining parent shrink away too- but, just, differently this time. His Dad never left a note. He didn’t have to. His note came in the form of gas station receipts and an ever-growing waistline. Finally his Dad just retired, called it quits, said he couldn’t focus well anymore and then Jethro came home everyday to a slumped-over Dad, his fiery passion now dwindled into sputters of ash.
Jet hated it. He hated watching his Dad turn into whatever this was- a loser was his best word for it. His Dad, the warrior, the fighter, the never-stop-improving guy, now an ill-shaven beard and slowly yellowing ball cap in the living room. Their once full days turned to small conversations turned to waves and noises as they each went between rooms- his dad between the kitchen and the living room and Jet between the garage and his room. “Take this like a man” rang in Jet’s head every time he saw him passed out drunk. He had hardened over about most everything, but that- he knew he never wanted to be like that.
When he graduated, he took his stuff and left too, tired of his dad’s ever-increasing fits of rage, exhaustion, or lunacy. He was tired of the drooling or the shouting he’d wake up to, his dad sometimes deciding the best place to take out his still-aching wound was on the innocent messenger. So, he got a job at a repair shop, found a cheap apartment, and liked coming home to the smell of oil and sweat still smeared into the coach cover. He brought his console and his PC- the biggest boxes he had while moving- and spent whatever time he wasn’t working back in front of a light blue screen. Jet made some friends at work, usually quiet techy guys like him who liked gaming or cars. Those late nights on voice chat were his saviors sometimes, saving him from the overwhelming pressure to address the cracks inside him.
But in his dad’s old spirit, he introduced himself to all the neighbors when he moved in- just in case. That’s how he met Jack, another quiet techy guy large enough to fill a couch but kind- and consistent. He always ate a whole pizza at the game night, but did five chores to make up for it. Sometimes when it was Saturday, Jet’d knock on Jack’s door just to grab a drink and talk. He couldn’t bare to be alone on the only day he was used to company.
After a few months, his Dad tracked him to the shop then to the apartment. Jet could hardly face him. His Dad was a mess, half-swaying as he talked- excited at least to see his son doing something worthwhile. “Just don’t stay minimum wage, alright Aero?” He said with an awkward chuckle. Jet nodded. They resumed their Saturday calls- even the last one where Jet explained he’d be gone for a while, but he didn’t know how long.
He could hardly believe what he was saying though, both unsure and certain of the words as they came out- him explaining to his real-life father how he’d be gone off to some practically imaginary place. “You won’t be able to find me, but I’ll be back.”
His Dad chuckled, “You going off to India or something?”
Jethro faked a laugh, “Nah, nah. I just- see I met this girl and I-”
“Say no more, kid. I get it.” His father barked, his voice reaching a level of intensity Jet hadn’t heard in a long, long time, “Just don’t lose her, Aero. Wherever she takes you don’t lose her.” He could almost hear his dad choking again- like he had all those years ago, the last time he made a life-changing call he didn’t really want to make.
Jethro’s voice was firm, “I won’t.”
Even Jethro wasn’t really sure what was happening, what would happen, what had happened. After his mom, he hadn’t really attached to anyone, silently afraid of losing someone so suddenly again. He’d never have said that, but it was one of those deep, quaking, cracked-up fears he never shook off. Never healed from.
But her sitting in the repair shop all those nights- keeping him entertained with her quiet, focused presence as the muggy, hot air wafted through the garage. She’d bring her laptop and just write for hours, ignoring the sweat and the scents. She’d read too, bringing big stacks of old, tattered covers to scour. Always some old philosophy, ancient text, or mythology collection. They met when he insisted she get coffee with him and he matched her interest in lore and knowledge, her hunger for more and better. She was mildly disappointed when she discovered most of his passion came from made-up worlds but would watch him play his fantasy RPGs nonetheless. She’d get off from the ramen bar across the street and come keep him company, figured it was better than alone anyway. She’d never admit she didn’t wanna be without him- not even for a second. She thought his every move was magic and his every word poetry, even when he was covered in grime and gasoline. But he knew her intensity when it was just them alone and she knew he was just as addicted- he’d always be, no matter what happened.
The last few months had been intense, long, and hot. They had intertwined everything about themselves, figuring they were each other’s perfect, yet unexpected matches. He adored every part of her and she coveted every part of him- intrigued when he held back his cracks and innermost pain. He knew she had her own secrets, but she hated that he kept his- adamant that he had to heal. That he had to let go. That he had to be in reality, not fantasy. But it wasn’t that simple- and he had work the next day anyway, so why stay up and bother with it?
But now she wanted to take him to an actual fantasy land. The place she apparently came from. And, as absolutely nuts as it sounded, he just decided to believe her. He’d heard Sevrin and Joseph go on and on about it- the other place through the rainbow portal or whatever- and, hell, if the woman he loved was crossing- so would he. He had nothing here except a lease and a job he could take or leave. So, why not? And, besides, swords or wrenches, he just wanted to be beside her- wherever she was.
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