| Fantasy Fiction posted June 20, 2023 | Chapters: |
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A fantasy adventure about a secret world.
A chapter in the book Return To Concorde Valley
Return to Concorde Valley
by davisr (Rhonda)
Echo Jones stood in a dense wheatfield watching as men in a red truck sprayed water on her burning farmhouse. She saw them run inside looking for survivors and inhaled slowly. Would they find her parents, the ones that had squeezed her through a narrow bathroom window and told her to run?
Frozen with fear, she could neither move nor speak. Only her eyes flitted across the scene, her heart alternating between hope and fear.
She glanced down at the pink dress Mommy bought her to wear to a schoolmate’s birthday party, one she was getting ready for when Daddy ran in to tell them there was a big fire.
A noise drew her attention back to the yard, eyes reflecting ravaging flames like tiny, blue mirrors.
She watched as two limp bodies were dragged onto the front lawn, followed by a huge crash as part of the roof fell in. One of the firefighters dropped to his knees, large gloved hands shielding his face.
Were those her parents lying there? Surely not, they wouldn’t sleep through this, and why were they covered with blankets? They couldn’t be cold in all this heat.
Echo remained motionless, holding tightly to her stuffed teddy bear, Cindy, a fellow refugee from the inferno.
“Anyone else in there?” a voice called out.
The man who had fallen to his knees stood, his hands still partially covering his face as though to protect himself from horrors this job couldn’t desensitize. He said, “No one I could see.”
“A neighbor said there was a five-year-old girl.”
Another roar of flames and more roof fell in. “I didn’t see anyone,” the man repeated.
The firefighters looked at each other, then down at the bodies on the ground. The search for survivors was over. No one, especially a small girl, could have lived through that.
Somberly, the workers finished their jobs and left.
Echo had been doing as she was taught; not talking to strangers, and staying out of grown-ups' way. But now, she was completely alone. Not knowing what else to do, she left the wheatfield and slipped into the forest behind the smoldering ruins of her home.
She had been told never to wander off into the woods, but she instinctively wanted the comfort of trees around her. She wouldn’t go too far, she decided, just far enough to find some soft leaves to rest on. She was so tired.
Echo followed an old trail she and her father used to walk, more out of habit than choice. She could still see his footprints by the fading light of evening and their familiarity gave her solace.
Once the sun had ended its journey in the sky, and she could no longer see where she was going, she sank to the ground. Cuddling Cindy in her arms, she rocked back and forth like a mother comforting her child.
The rocking motion made her sleepy so she curled into the cool autumn leaves until blessed forgetfulness took her over.
Silent trees watched over the child that night, lending what consolation they could as they swayed gently back and forth.
When morning dawned, Echo sat up yawning and stretching. She hadn’t been afraid during the long night, snuggling close to nature for support, but now it was morning and no one had come to get her. She suddenly realized how hungry and thirsty she was, and how totally alone. Panicking, she rose to her feet and ran.
She cried out for her parents as she fled deeper into the interior of the forest. Low hanging limbs scratched her skin and tore at her clothing. With each new pain, she cried louder and ran with greater desperation.
Finally, her tattered pink dress became so entangled in briars, she couldn't move. With a jagged groan, she leaned against a tree and hugged Cindy close to her heart. Sobs slowly subsided to exhausted whimpers as she gave up trying to get free. She had no idea what had happened to her world, but she lacked the strength to fight it any longer.
“Who’s out there?” the faint voice of a boy called from deep in the underbrush ahead of her.
Echo looked up, the last embers of hope rekindling with the resilience of the very young.
“Help me,” she said softly, then louder, “help me.”
“Don’t worry,” the boy said. “I’m coming. Keep talking.”
Echo called several times and listened for movement. Finally, the rustling drew near and branches before her parted.
A young boy, a bit older that Echo, squeezed through a gap. Dark curly hair framed a kind face, and emerald eyes sparkled from beneath skin tanned the color of golden wheat. He reached out a hand to grasp hers.
“I’m here.”
Echo couldn't say anything at first. She was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.
As though he understood, the boy gently pulled her out of the thorns without saying anything. Once she was free, he spoke again. “What happened to you?”
“I got lost,” Echo said in a quiet voice.
“I can see that. How did you get that way?”
“There was a big fire at my house and these men came to put it out, and they took my mommy and daddy away. They left and no one came to get me.”
“I’m sorry,” the boy said. “Would you like me to take you somewhere else? Do you have grandparents or something?”
“Yeah, I have a grandma and grandpa. I go see them all the time."
"Why didn't they come help when your house burned?"
"They're gone to visit my Aunt Suzy in another state called Louisiana."
“Will they be home soon?”
“I think so. Mommy said they were just going for the weekend."
“Good, then I’ll take you to them. Where do they live?”
“In a big house with horses and chickens,” Echo said. It wasn't very accurate, but was the only description she knew.
“That doesn’t help much. Do you know how to get there?”
“No, my mommy and daddy always take me.”
“Hmmm, okay, best not to go look for it or we’ll both get lost. I have an idea. There's a tree-cave near here where we can wait. I’m sure someone will come looking for you soon. My mother always says that if you get lost you should wait in one spot until help comes.”
“My mommy says that, too,” Echo said.
“Well, then that’s what we’ll do. What’s your name?”
“Echo.”
“Mine's Anthos.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“I Know. I was named after my mother, Diantha. Both names are Greek for flower. My family is really into gardens. You can call me Theo if you want, that’s what my little brother and sister do.”
“Okay, Theo. Why don’t we go to your house? Maybe we could call the police like they taught us in school.”
“We can’t. I live a long way from here." He took her by the hand and carefully lead her through the underbrush, “and we don’t have phones.”
“Why not?”
“My father says phones create a situation where people isolate from each other."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure, but I think he means people should talk face-to-face. We don’t have TV’s or computers, either. None of our people do.”
“That’s funny,” Echo said, ducking under a limb. “What do you do for fun??”
“We play outside with our friends, we walk in trees and we practice for the Festival Games.”
“Festival Games, what are those?”
“Big contests of bravery and skill where you can win prizes like golden bows,” he explained. “I get to compete this coming year for the first time because I just turned eight.”
“Wow, can I come watch?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not allowed to bring company home. I could ask my parents, though.”
“Well, come get me if I can go, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Can girls play the games, too?” Echo asked.
“Not until they are eight-years-old like I am. Until then they can only come and watch.”
“What kind of games can girls do?”
“They can shoot a bow and arrow, throw a discus or spear, jump over a pole or across a sand pit, race, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Mostly the same thing the boys do. Some of the teenagers and mothers have cooking contests, too.”
“Oh, like the fair,” Echo said. “My mommy put a cake she made in the fair in Dalton. She won a ribbon and was so happy.”
“That's good. Do they have games at your fair like the ones I told you about?”
“I'm not sure, but I do know they have rides and barns full of animals. They also have this cool candy called taffy. It’s really stretchy, and I got to see them make it on this huge machine that stretches and pulls it. They also have cotton candy, and that’s my favorite because it’s so soft and fluffy and tastes like a sweet cloud.”
“Sounds yummy. They have a lot to eat at our festivals, too, but that's not all that's cool. Every four years we have a giant event called the Olympics where people compete from both of the valleys near where I live. The last time we had one I was only five. We’re supposed to have another one next year, and I hope I can be in it. If I win in any of my categories this year, I'll get to compete in that one, too.”
“Wow, I'm pretty sure we have Olympics, too, or at least I heard them talking about it on TV.”
“See, our people are a lot like yours.”
“Yeah, but I’m allowed to bring friends to my home, or at least I could before my house disappeared.”
“I'm sorry that happened to you. I can't imagine what it would be like.”
"I can't either. It's all so mixed-up in my head and it makes me want to cry."
Theo put a hand on her arm and patted it. He knew there wasn't anything he could say to help.
The children said nothing else until they approached a sort of cave-like opening in the trees. Theo pulled a limb aside, and helped Echo climb inside the enclosure. She went in and sat on a soft bed of pine needles and leaves. She laid Cindy down beside her, the little pink satin dress she had on, matching Echo’s.
She then sat with her legs crossed and looked at Theo. Even though she was a young child, she felt a certain kinship with her strange new friend, almost as though they weren’t strangers at all. Ordinarily she was shy around people she didn’t know, but not this boy who came from a strange world.
“I’m hungry,” she said into a silent moment, “and so is Cindy.”
“You stay here, and I'll go catch some fish,” Theo said. He reached down a hand and ruffled her hair. “That is if you think Cindy would like some.”
“Oh, Cindy loves fish. She eats it everytime my daddy brings some home. Do you have a fishing pole like he does?”
“No, I can catch them with my hands. It's something all kids learn to do where I come from. I can also build a fire and cook them.”
“Wow, that's so cool. My mother let me make biscuits in the oven the other day. She says little girls need to learn to cook early.”
“And she’s right,” Theo said, “but we don’t have any ovens here or any flour to make biscuits. All I can bring you is fish.”
“That'll be fine,” Echo said. She was trying her best to sound more grown up than she felt.
Theo smiled and walked over to a tree where he leapt nimbly up into its branches. He waved at her as he soared from that tree to another one close-by. Echo waved back and then leaned against the sturdy trunk of a tree to wait for her new friend to return.
She tried not to think about the fire or her parents as she waited. Those thoughts made her sad and afraid. She needed to feel good again, and so she just played with Cindy and pretended that she was on a picnic.
Some time later, Theo appeared in the tree he had first leapt into. In his hands were two promised fish and a bunch of wild chrysanthemums he had gathered in the forest.
“My mother always puts flowers on the table when we eat,” he explained as he approached her. He placed the flowers in the middle of what would become their eating area. He took one bright blossom and handed it to her.
“This one is for you,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, and then stuck it in her hair the way her mother had always done for her.
A First Book Chapter contest entry
Echo Jones stood in a dense wheatfield watching as men in a red truck sprayed water on her burning farmhouse. She saw them run inside looking for survivors and inhaled slowly. Would they find her parents, the ones that had squeezed her through a narrow bathroom window and told her to run?
Frozen with fear, she could neither move nor speak. Only her eyes flitted across the scene, her heart alternating between hope and fear.
She glanced down at the pink dress Mommy bought her to wear to a schoolmate’s birthday party, one she was getting ready for when Daddy ran in to tell them there was a big fire.
A noise drew her attention back to the yard, eyes reflecting ravaging flames like tiny, blue mirrors.
She watched as two limp bodies were dragged onto the front lawn, followed by a huge crash as part of the roof fell in. One of the firefighters dropped to his knees, large gloved hands shielding his face.
Were those her parents lying there? Surely not, they wouldn’t sleep through this, and why were they covered with blankets? They couldn’t be cold in all this heat.
Echo remained motionless, holding tightly to her stuffed teddy bear, Cindy, a fellow refugee from the inferno.
“Anyone else in there?” a voice called out.
The man who had fallen to his knees stood, his hands still partially covering his face as though to protect himself from horrors this job couldn’t desensitize. He said, “No one I could see.”
“A neighbor said there was a five-year-old girl.”
Another roar of flames and more roof fell in. “I didn’t see anyone,” the man repeated.
The firefighters looked at each other, then down at the bodies on the ground. The search for survivors was over. No one, especially a small girl, could have lived through that.
Somberly, the workers finished their jobs and left.
Echo had been doing as she was taught; not talking to strangers, and staying out of grown-ups' way. But now, she was completely alone. Not knowing what else to do, she left the wheatfield and slipped into the forest behind the smoldering ruins of her home.
She had been told never to wander off into the woods, but she instinctively wanted the comfort of trees around her. She wouldn’t go too far, she decided, just far enough to find some soft leaves to rest on. She was so tired.
Echo followed an old trail she and her father used to walk, more out of habit than choice. She could still see his footprints by the fading light of evening and their familiarity gave her solace.
Once the sun had ended its journey in the sky, and she could no longer see where she was going, she sank to the ground. Cuddling Cindy in her arms, she rocked back and forth like a mother comforting her child.
The rocking motion made her sleepy so she curled into the cool autumn leaves until blessed forgetfulness took her over.
Silent trees watched over the child that night, lending what consolation they could as they swayed gently back and forth.
When morning dawned, Echo sat up yawning and stretching. She hadn’t been afraid during the long night, snuggling close to nature for support, but now it was morning and no one had come to get her. She suddenly realized how hungry and thirsty she was, and how totally alone. Panicking, she rose to her feet and ran.
She cried out for her parents as she fled deeper into the interior of the forest. Low hanging limbs scratched her skin and tore at her clothing. With each new pain, she cried louder and ran with greater desperation.
Finally, her tattered pink dress became so entangled in briars, she couldn't move. With a jagged groan, she leaned against a tree and hugged Cindy close to her heart. Sobs slowly subsided to exhausted whimpers as she gave up trying to get free. She had no idea what had happened to her world, but she lacked the strength to fight it any longer.
“Who’s out there?” the faint voice of a boy called from deep in the underbrush ahead of her.
Echo looked up, the last embers of hope rekindling with the resilience of the very young.
“Help me,” she said softly, then louder, “help me.”
“Don’t worry,” the boy said. “I’m coming. Keep talking.”
Echo called several times and listened for movement. Finally, the rustling drew near and branches before her parted.
A young boy, a bit older that Echo, squeezed through a gap. Dark curly hair framed a kind face, and emerald eyes sparkled from beneath skin tanned the color of golden wheat. He reached out a hand to grasp hers.
“I’m here.”
Echo couldn't say anything at first. She was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.
As though he understood, the boy gently pulled her out of the thorns without saying anything. Once she was free, he spoke again. “What happened to you?”
“I got lost,” Echo said in a quiet voice.
“I can see that. How did you get that way?”
“There was a big fire at my house and these men came to put it out, and they took my mommy and daddy away. They left and no one came to get me.”
“I’m sorry,” the boy said. “Would you like me to take you somewhere else? Do you have grandparents or something?”
“Yeah, I have a grandma and grandpa. I go see them all the time."
"Why didn't they come help when your house burned?"
"They're gone to visit my Aunt Suzy in another state called Louisiana."
“Will they be home soon?”
“I think so. Mommy said they were just going for the weekend."
“Good, then I’ll take you to them. Where do they live?”
“In a big house with horses and chickens,” Echo said. It wasn't very accurate, but was the only description she knew.
“That doesn’t help much. Do you know how to get there?”
“No, my mommy and daddy always take me.”
“Hmmm, okay, best not to go look for it or we’ll both get lost. I have an idea. There's a tree-cave near here where we can wait. I’m sure someone will come looking for you soon. My mother always says that if you get lost you should wait in one spot until help comes.”
“My mommy says that, too,” Echo said.
“Well, then that’s what we’ll do. What’s your name?”
“Echo.”
“Mine's Anthos.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“I Know. I was named after my mother, Diantha. Both names are Greek for flower. My family is really into gardens. You can call me Theo if you want, that’s what my little brother and sister do.”
“Okay, Theo. Why don’t we go to your house? Maybe we could call the police like they taught us in school.”
“We can’t. I live a long way from here." He took her by the hand and carefully lead her through the underbrush, “and we don’t have phones.”
“Why not?”
“My father says phones create a situation where people isolate from each other."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure, but I think he means people should talk face-to-face. We don’t have TV’s or computers, either. None of our people do.”
“That’s funny,” Echo said, ducking under a limb. “What do you do for fun??”
“We play outside with our friends, we walk in trees and we practice for the Festival Games.”
“Festival Games, what are those?”
“Big contests of bravery and skill where you can win prizes like golden bows,” he explained. “I get to compete this coming year for the first time because I just turned eight.”
“Wow, can I come watch?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not allowed to bring company home. I could ask my parents, though.”
“Well, come get me if I can go, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Can girls play the games, too?” Echo asked.
“Not until they are eight-years-old like I am. Until then they can only come and watch.”
“What kind of games can girls do?”
“They can shoot a bow and arrow, throw a discus or spear, jump over a pole or across a sand pit, race, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Mostly the same thing the boys do. Some of the teenagers and mothers have cooking contests, too.”
“Oh, like the fair,” Echo said. “My mommy put a cake she made in the fair in Dalton. She won a ribbon and was so happy.”
“That's good. Do they have games at your fair like the ones I told you about?”
“I'm not sure, but I do know they have rides and barns full of animals. They also have this cool candy called taffy. It’s really stretchy, and I got to see them make it on this huge machine that stretches and pulls it. They also have cotton candy, and that’s my favorite because it’s so soft and fluffy and tastes like a sweet cloud.”
“Sounds yummy. They have a lot to eat at our festivals, too, but that's not all that's cool. Every four years we have a giant event called the Olympics where people compete from both of the valleys near where I live. The last time we had one I was only five. We’re supposed to have another one next year, and I hope I can be in it. If I win in any of my categories this year, I'll get to compete in that one, too.”
“Wow, I'm pretty sure we have Olympics, too, or at least I heard them talking about it on TV.”
“See, our people are a lot like yours.”
“Yeah, but I’m allowed to bring friends to my home, or at least I could before my house disappeared.”
“I'm sorry that happened to you. I can't imagine what it would be like.”
"I can't either. It's all so mixed-up in my head and it makes me want to cry."
Theo put a hand on her arm and patted it. He knew there wasn't anything he could say to help.
The children said nothing else until they approached a sort of cave-like opening in the trees. Theo pulled a limb aside, and helped Echo climb inside the enclosure. She went in and sat on a soft bed of pine needles and leaves. She laid Cindy down beside her, the little pink satin dress she had on, matching Echo’s.
She then sat with her legs crossed and looked at Theo. Even though she was a young child, she felt a certain kinship with her strange new friend, almost as though they weren’t strangers at all. Ordinarily she was shy around people she didn’t know, but not this boy who came from a strange world.
“I’m hungry,” she said into a silent moment, “and so is Cindy.”
“You stay here, and I'll go catch some fish,” Theo said. He reached down a hand and ruffled her hair. “That is if you think Cindy would like some.”
“Oh, Cindy loves fish. She eats it everytime my daddy brings some home. Do you have a fishing pole like he does?”
“No, I can catch them with my hands. It's something all kids learn to do where I come from. I can also build a fire and cook them.”
“Wow, that's so cool. My mother let me make biscuits in the oven the other day. She says little girls need to learn to cook early.”
“And she’s right,” Theo said, “but we don’t have any ovens here or any flour to make biscuits. All I can bring you is fish.”
“That'll be fine,” Echo said. She was trying her best to sound more grown up than she felt.
Theo smiled and walked over to a tree where he leapt nimbly up into its branches. He waved at her as he soared from that tree to another one close-by. Echo waved back and then leaned against the sturdy trunk of a tree to wait for her new friend to return.
She tried not to think about the fire or her parents as she waited. Those thoughts made her sad and afraid. She needed to feel good again, and so she just played with Cindy and pretended that she was on a picnic.
Some time later, Theo appeared in the tree he had first leapt into. In his hands were two promised fish and a bunch of wild chrysanthemums he had gathered in the forest.
“My mother always puts flowers on the table when we eat,” he explained as he approached her. He placed the flowers in the middle of what would become their eating area. He took one bright blossom and handed it to her.
“This one is for you,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, and then stuck it in her hair the way her mother had always done for her.
 Recognized |
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