We were eleven when Rayne invited me to the trailer home where he lived with his stepparents.
Before dark, we walked to nearby woods and came to a large dirt mound with thick, long branches sticking upright around its circumference to form a circular fortress. It was from another time.
Rayne said he’d arranged the branches that way to honor the Protectors. He told me stories about them—I understood them to be like gods.
“What if they aren’t real?” I asked.
“They’re real,” he answered.
“You seen ‘em?”
“Duh.”
We never spoke about Protectors again; I was never invited back.
A stepmother and a stepfather? Must be a weird and complicated family situation. Interesting piece, but probably should have been longer. I felt like a lot has been left out. You do write convincingly of youngsters, Alex, and I’d like to see more of you work.
Thanks, Bobby. Always appreciate the kind words. Definitely a lot to think about in this piece.