Scrivenings of the King-Beyond-The-Wall

Western World #1

When Jake's mom announced they were spending a week in the countryside, his heart sank. A whole week? He imagined himself besieged by endless fields, the monotony of chirping crickets, and the suffocating smell of manure. In his fifteen years, Jake had never left the bustle of Chicago, and he wasn't looking forward to starting now.

The drive itself felt like an eternity. Skyscrapers gave way to sprawling suburbs, then to greener patches dotted with cows and barns. Jake's initial curiosity about the new landscapes quickly waned. By the time they reached Aunt Marlene's farm, he was slumped in his seat, headphones on, drowning his dread in loud music.

The old farmhouse stood like a relic from an ancient time, its wooden sides groaning in the wind. Aunt Marlene, a spry woman with laugh lines and hands toughened by years of farm work, greeted them with such warmth that Jake felt a pang of guilt for his reluctance.

"Welcome, city boy! Ready to be a farmhand?" she chuckled, her voice carrying across the fields like a breeze.
Jake managed a weak smile. "I guess," he mumbled.

The first two days were as bad as he had expected. He woke up at dawn, fed chickens that pecked at his shoes, and tried not to gag while milking cows. His hands ached, and his phone reception was abysmal. What was the point of all this if he couldn't even share his misery on Instagram?

On the third day, Aunt Marlene took him to the creek. "City kids don't know what they're missing," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. They spent the afternoon skipping stones and fishing. Jake, surprisingly, caught three fish. His excitement was genuine; his usual sullen facade melted away as he showed them off to his aunt.

That evening, they sat under an old oak tree, the sky a canvas of oranges and purples at sunset. Aunt Marlene shared stories of Jake's dad when he was young, tales of midnight escapades and summer friendships. Jake listened, enraptured. The countryside wasn't just a place; it was a part of his father's history, a part of his own heritage he hadn't known he’d been missing.

As the days passed, Jake's disdain slowly transformed. He began to appreciate the crisp morning air, the golden hue of sunlight through the cornfields, and the quiet that wasn’t silence but a symphony of nature's sounds. He helped fix a tractor, learned to make apple pie, and even raced the farm dogs across the fields, laughing all the way.

On his last night, Jake stood at the edge of the field, looking up at a sky bursting with stars—so many more than he’d ever seen in the smog-filled city nights. It dawned on him how vast and beautiful the world was when you stepped out of your comfort zone.

"I'm going to miss this," he admitted to Aunt Marlene as they packed the car the next morning.

"You’ll always have a place here," she replied, hugging him tightly. "Don’t forget that, city boy."


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(504 words)


Prompt: First visit in the country for a city boy.