Cole awoke and brought himself to a sitting position. He was in a cold sweat and seemed to have amnesia. He was oblivious to his location for several minutes, but after the chronic throbbing of his head subsided he remembered what he was doing, and why he was in the forest.

Cole picked up his third walkoli and headed to the stream to get the water his mother had asked for. After filling the buckets to the brim, he set them upon a long stick which he placed around his shoulders and set off back to his home.

The house he lived in was rather far from the forest in which he had just captured the three walkoli and the stream he had gathered his water. To get back to his house, Cole would have to walk across a large field, filled with grass burs, snakes, and parasitic insects. Cole had grown to ignore the buzzing of the insects that plagued the countryside, the grass burs however, were a pain.

Many a night Cole would spend almost an hour plucking out the burs from his feet, legs, and arms. As a result he had some of the toughest feet in the country, and running from snakes, didn't hurt his calve and thigh muscles from growing thick either.
Cole set off through the grassy plain, his head still throbbing from the blow to his head he experienced earlier that day. He trekked through the weeds and grass burs until he finally spotted his home on the horizon.

The house of Fatch was rather small and looked as if it was unfinished. With the death of his brother and the sudden crippling of his father, the vision of a large dream house was crushed. From the front, the house had a half white, half unpainted look, the shingles that actually made it onto the roof were chipping away. Windows halfway installed and unpainted gave the house a two-faced expression.

Cole finally made it to the back entryway. From the back of the house, the construction seemed to unexpectedly stop. The rear end looked like the sudden end to a story or an unexpected end to a song. The only way into the house from the back was a hole cut into the paneling that his mother just loved to call a door.

Cole was in constant fear of someone hiking down the road less than fifty feet from his home and seeing that hideous hole in his already ugly house. 'What if they find out I live here?' he pondered, 'What if someone comes by and sees my mom or my dad?'

As he approached the, 'back door,' his mother was waiting, pot in hand. 'What in the bloody hell took you so long?!?' 'Mom..it was wild! I went to get the....' 'Never mind I don't care, set the walkoli down and start cutting the vegetables.'

Cole's mother was a short, fat looking woman, her hair was thin and stringy, her head was a very dark brown plagued with grey and her mop top ran quickly to her broad shoulders then suddenly stopped.

Since the accident causing his father's lameness his mother was the larger one of the two spouses. Her broad shoulders resembled those of a silver back gorilla, her thighs were like tree trunks, and her calves were as if they belonged to a gladiator in the Great Arena in the golden city of Astar.

Cole cut the vegetables and raked them into the water, the steam hit his face, and he thought for a moment. He was six months past seventeen, and he was tired of the constant burden and embarrassment of his 'half house.'

'Mother...I'm goin' over to my room, would you call me when it's ready?' Cole asked as politely as possible. 'Yeah whatever, don't get angry when it's cold.' ' ...Ok... thanks....stupid wench..' Cole muttered under his breath as he drug his feet back to his room.

How could once such a sweet woman become the horrid witch that stood in the kitchen less than fifteen feet away from him? Cole's mother, Delba, used to be the kindest woman he knew. Cole and his brother Slade would wake up every morning to a hot breakfast and a smiling mother.

Their father, a taller man of about six feet, would come in the kitchen, kiss their mother and hug the boys. 'How're my youngin's doin' this mornin? Lemme tell ya'll what. If you two getcha chores done early I'll take you two out to the lake and we'll go fishin','

'Oh wow!!! really Pop? This time me and Cole are goin ta out fish ya!'

'YEAH!! dad we aw gonna dew ittt.'

Cole was just four when the accident happened.

Their mother would just smile and say. 'Oh I don't know Carthel, they might have a lot to do today.' Cole and Slade's father would chuckle and reply, 'Oh mom cooommmee oonnnnn!!!!' The two brothers would quickly say in unison, 'YEAH MOM PLEASE PLEASE.' but those were the good days, when Cole was happy and didn't have to worry about making mistakes or saying the wrong things every time he turned around.

With a hefty sigh, Cole walked through the house of Fatch. The house had a cold feel. The walls were poorly painted, the wooden floor was creaky and molded from the rain that would leak from the roof.

The living room seemed more like a dungeon than a living quarter. There wasn't even wood on the floor, just a stone foundation. His father would sit in a chair and stare at the wall for hours and hours until he fell asleep. An out of place chandelier hung from a rafter up above. A single candle sat by Carthel's chair, poorly lighting the cool, dark room.

Leading out of the living room was a hallway connecting both Cole and Slade's room and the kitchen. The kitchen was the most decorated room in the home. Complete with green and orange wall-paper, green shag carpet, and orange counter tops and a table. There was a cauldron over a flame pit in the uppermost corner of the room.

The chairs were fastened to the floor because of the vast amounts of mold coming from within the carpet. Try as he might to keep the house clean, the mold was a stubborn child, never hindering its grip on the chairs his father had made for the house.

Towards the back of the kitchen was the hole in wall or the 'back door' as his mother called it. Further down the hall was Slade and Cole's room. This room, like the others, was partially finished as well. Where bunk beds used to set, now just a single twin bed.

Cole's posters of his favorite gladiators and champions covered the wall. Demitrix The Great, his most favorite, was centered amongst the rest. The floor was wooden like most of the house, but with a loose board in the center of the room. Cole stepped toward the board and lifted it.

Underneath the wooden cover laid a bag of marbles, a fish hook and string, a weathered necklace, and a crudely drawn picture of two stick figures holding hands. Cole removed the necklace and held it in his palm..'I miss you brother..' he whispered out to no one, 'it's hell here...hell...if I could take it back I...' Cole was interrupted by a loud howl. 'Come on boy! It's ready!'

Quickly placing the necklace back in its home, Cole placed the wooden board over the hole and walked back into the kitchen. The salty smell hit him as soon as he entered the room. A sizzling, steaming, popping sensation filled the kitchen.

Cole was absolutely disgusted by walkoli stew. It was like eating over-cooked oysters, only worse. The texture of the walkoli was that of a roast, so unable to just let the food slide down his throat, Cole was forced to chew and savor the naturally salty meat.

Cole sat down and waited for his mother to say the blessing. Delba set the three plates upon the bright orange table. 'Dear Lord in Heaven, bless this dish I've slaved over with absolutely no help....for an hour. Help each person in this house to be what you would like them to be. Reveal to us your plans for the future, and Lord..please bring Cole closer to you, let him see the light...please..,' she drug out the please and Cole felt the burning gaze she set upon him.

Cole was a good son, he didn't back talk his mother, at least where she could hear it, and since his mother couldn't find any reason for the accident, she made it seem like it was Cole's fault. Prayers like this were a ritual at meal time. At first this bothered Cole, but his heart was so hardened after thirteen years of nonsense that it rarely bothered him.

After the prayer, Cole forced the food down his throat and walked to his room. He laid in his bed and thought. He thought of many things, about leaving, about being the man he wanted to be, about letting his mother do all the work and letting her see how it felt.

Cole rolled around his bed for minutes upon minutes, thinking of ways to better his life. 'What if I just leave?' he thought to himself 'That woman is too damn lazy to come chase me, and Lord forgive me, but dad can't just hop up and fallow me...'

Cole quietly drifted to sleep, the long day was finally over, he had plans for the next though, tomorrow would be different.