For those of you who have the unfortunate pleasure of finding this book, I am truly sorry. In fact I suggest that you close the cover and burn it immediately. You see, this book is more of a diary of my life. Well, at least a telling of my life before the renaming of myself.  This is a book of long journeys, heroic endeavors, agonizing pain and unbridled emotion. In fact, the only reason that any of this is written down is because…well, I don’t know exactly. Well, back to what I was saying. There are a plethora of stories, fables and legends telling of people who led lives similar to mine. The only difference between the Harry Potters, Dorothy Gales, and Jonathan Stranges and myself is that all these other stories are fiction. Or, at least, labeled as such.        

My name is Rone.  A simple name. Not, a simple history. And now I am going to tell you a story. Where do I start? Well, at the beginning I suppose. Or, at least the beginning of my adventure. I was just about to turn 21. Age never has been a big deal to me. Maybe, because I really feel like I am centuries old. New body, old soul or spirit, whatever you call it. That unforeseen force that animates the body seems very old. I lead a very average life. After I graduated high school I decided to live with my parents to help them out in their studio.I started working at a local coffee shop. I would get up, go to work, come home, and repeat. See what I mean? Just like everyone else I knew I led a fairly average life. Actually, it was average until the last winter before my birthday.

See what I did there? I’ve got you thinking a wondering what happened last winter. And, I am going to tell you. Just, not yet. You should know about where I come from and where I live. I was born in a town that few have ever heard of and even less people have seen. In fact, I’ve never been to my home town before. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve tried to visit, see my roots, but I’ve never been able to find the town. The town Clandestine, Colorado, where I was born, isn’t on any map. Apparently, Clandestine was established a little over 200 years ago by my ancestors. The town was built right in the heart of the Orchy Mountains.  The story goes something like this... My ancestors were prospectors. Upon finding quite a lucrative silver deposit my ancestors claimed the land and staked the mine and surrounding areas.  Buildings were constructed, but before a road could be constructed back down the mountain a sudden storm blew in and kept the town under a blanket of snow for 17 months. The whole town was believed to have perished. Then, one day a couple showed up in Denver claiming that they were from Clandestine and that they had been living there all their lives until recently. Curiously, if the couple had journeyed from Clandestine they weren’t able to tell anyone how to get there. They claimed that they went for a hike and got lost. After a few weeks of surviving in the wilderness they made their way through the mountains and found themselves looking down upon Denver. So, they decided to relocate, so to speak. The man’s name was Lucas and the woman’s name was Matilda. These two people were my parents. And, because they were the only two to have ever come from Clandestine, the town’s history comes from those two people alone. So now you know about as much of the town as I do. Clandestine, the town of myth and legend.        

So, like I said, I was born in Clandestine and so were my parents.  My parents were a bit eccentric. They were lovers of art, music, writing and they dabbled in a little of all things. Unfortunately, they seemed to love their hobbies a little more than me. The only time I was given real attention was during the holidays. I don’t mean Christmas, Easter or even Fourth of July. My parents didn’t celebrate “Those generic holidays” my parents would say. They would celebrate holidays I, or anyone else for that matter, never heard of.  Each of their holidays, there were four all, required a week of celebration.  My favorite though was the holiday called The Crossing. This particular holiday was actually on my birthday. And it was coming up soon.  Because of The Crossing, my parents gave extra attention to me. They would always say I was special and chosen for a purpose. Stuff I imagine every parent says to their children when they are younger. But, my parents say it means something different for me. I’m not dull like the rest of the kids my age. The only thing I ever noticed different about me was that all the other local kids avoided me like the plague. In fact, i was so popular with the kids at school that they gave me my own table to eat at during the lunch period

Oh, by the way, if you haven’t figured it out by now I tend to ramble on quite a bit. What does this mean for you? Either you will get bored and finish this story in about half an hour or you will find this story the most entertaining and peculiar one you’ve ever read. I promise though, things will gradually take a much more serious tone later on.  Ok, so there was this time when I was 12 maybe 13 years old and it was another typical day of school. I missed the bus which, by the way, didn’t make any sense because the bus stop was actually two blocks further than the school in the opposite direction. But, I chose to ride the bus in hopes that I would make a few friends. Anyhow, I missed the bus and had to walk twice the distance to school making me an hour and 45 minutes late. This had happened on more than one occasion. So, by the time I made it to school I had missed the whole first period and was put on silent lunch. Silent lunch wasn’t a punishment for me. At lunch you have to get your food or bring your own brown bag lunch and eat by yourself in a classroom with nothing to keep you occupied except a teacher who silently graded their papers. Unknown to everyone else silent lunch was more of an escape for me.         

This particular silent lunch I will never forget. There was another student in the classroom with me. There was never anyone else on silent lunch. This boy was a peculiar sort of boy.   He would slightly lean over to the desk next to him as if someone was whispering in his year and he would nod emphatically.  Then, he would turn towards me as if to say something and just sit back up his chair. Then, the whole thing would start over again.  There’s something about knowing when someone talks about you that really gets under my skin.  It makes me itch.   Really, I start scratching all over.  When I finally had enough scratching because of this boy I asked him if there was a problem I said  “excuse me, if you are talking about me please do it when I’m not around.” Of course, he wasn’t really talking about me because there wasn’t anyone for him to talk to.  You decide which is crazier, having an imaginary friend or a boy who thinks that he’s talking to his imaginary friend about him.  Me being the latter.  Naturally, I was loud enough for the teacher to hear me. The teacher looked at me and said “first, there is no talking.  Second, who are you talking to?”  I turned straight around to the boy next to me and realized that there wasn’t anyone there.  Where had this boy gone?  Did too many silent lunches finally make me go crazy? I refused to think I was crazy, but I couldn’t explain it. Needless to say, I stayed and finished my lunch and the rest of my day. And I definitely didn’t tell anyone about it.  I never had any other moments of insanity for the rest of my school career. What is the point of me telling you this story? Easy, it is called an allusion. Meaning, that something about that story has something to do with something else that I will tell shortly.

Back to my parents and the holiday. So, now it’s my birthday and my parents have decided to give me the biggest surprise of my life. They tell me they have decided it’s time to travel back to Clandestine for the winter and to celebrate my birthday.And, we were going to take the train. How were we going to take a train that doesn’t exist? It struck me quite funny because here my parents hadn’t so much given a word about my hometown for at least ten years and now they want to go back! What was I to say? I was elated. But how were we going to get there? My parents said they couldn’t remember the way. Had they been lying to me the whole time or did they just remember all of a sudden. I didn’t really care. I was just happy to be going to the place of my birth. My parents and I packed for our week long trip and before I knew it we were on our way to the train station. You mean to tell me I could have taken a train to Clandestine any time I wanted. All I had to do was catch a train to the mountains. I woke up early that Tuesday morning. There was a crisp light shining through my bedroom curtains. A grey subdued light reflected by the three inches of snow that had fallen the night before. I walked downstairs from my small room to the kitchen and sat at our little dinette set where my mother had already set breakfast. It was a huge breakfast. Eggs, toast and jam, bacon and plenty of fresh baked muffins. Unfortunately, I was so excited to leave that when I packed for the trip I left no room for an appetite. So, I drank a glass of orange juice and barraged my parents with questions about Clandestine.  “How long is the trip going to take? Will there be lots of snow, lots of people?” What were the people like?” Was the town a beautiful town. I always imagined Clandestine to be a town where the building are a mixture of old clay brick and stone and marble columns. Cobblestone roads and a river that meandered through the streets and alleys. Now, that I am older I imagine this depiction was nothing more than an amalgam of various fantasy cities I’ve read about.  

My parents would only answer my incessant questions with thinks like “You’ll see when we get there”, or, “Oh, it was so long ago.” Neither answer was to my satisfaction and I never acted this way, but I couldn’t help myself.  So I resorted to daydreaming.  Now, I know that it was about to be my birthday. And any self-respecting young man wouldn’t have acted this way. Finally, a few hours had passed and we were finally throwing our luggage on top of the trolley and rumbling down the track towards the train station. Being as Denver was a town that arose from miners and traders doing business from east to west we had a very good trolley system.  The trolleys which were brass and mahogany covered the whole city. You only needed to walk a few steep from anywhere and you could hop right on. It was one of my favorite features of our city. After a very cold forty minute ride, because the trolleys had no heat, we finally made it to the train station.

Now, the station was a bustling grand building with all sorts of people. There were new arrivals looking for a familiar face. Teary eyed mothers and proud fathers waving farewell to their children were scattered all about the platforms.  School boys standing in groups eyeing the school girls all of which were going back to boarding school.  And there were families like ours quietly and patiently waiting for our train’s arrival to be announced by the train porter. At last, “All aboard!” The north bound winter sleigh through Jones pass will be leaving in ten minutes.”. “ That’s us.” My mother said. I could hardly stand it. I looked around and gathered my bags and threw a muffin at the freckle faced red head boy who had been making faces at me the whole time we had been waiting for the train. I was finally boarding the train. My parents led the way through the train cars to our cabin at the very back of the train. I couldn’t believe how much room there was in the aisle. So much room in fact, that if you carried your suitcase above your head and walked sideways you had about two inches of room between you and the cabin doors.

Like I said before our cabin was at the back of the train but, trains aren’t like school buses where the cool kids sit in the back. In fact, it is just the opposite. The back and front of the train were for the least important and poor people. And my parents had the pleasure of being both. You see, the upper-class people could afford to buy a cabin in the center of the train. The center of the train is always the safest place to be, if an accident occurs and the train is derailed the center cars have the greatest possibility to stay on the track. Of course, when you purchase a ticket the train company never tells you this. The bit about the train was just one of those random bits of information that I learned along the way and I thought I might share that with you. Naturally, the bit about the train has nothing to do with this story. Well, it might, but we will just have to see.

As I was saying earlier, my parents and I shuffled our way to the end of the train finally arriving to our cabin just as the train pulled from the platform. The sudden lurch of the passenger car made me lose my footing and I stumbled backwards into the arms of a girl so stunning that once I righted myself I had to fall in her arms again for good measure. But, I blamed that on the movement of the train also. I didn’t’ want to seem like a creep. Although, looking back it still seems a bit creepy. Now, when I say this girl was stunning, I really mean vivacious, almost other worldly. It was as if no matter what angle you looked at her, her moss green eyes were highlighted  by whatever light was around her. They just drew me in and held me captivated. As did the rest of her features but those eyes were nothing like I had ever seen before. “Do you want to go for round three?” she said. That’s what finally brought me to my senses. “If you please, get off me you’re wrinkling my travelling clothes.”  Then she shoved me back to my feet and turned away and entered her own cabin. I turned around and said quietly.” What’s wrong with her? Not the greatest way to start a trip”. My  mother just smiled that annoyed smile of hers and grabbed me by the shoulder and forced marched me into our cabin, which happened to be right next to the girls cabin. “What has gotten into you? I raised you better than to act like that.” My mother said in her cold, listen to me tone of voice. I didn’t care though I had just had my first taste of infatuation. As it was I situated my suitcase in the cubby hole of the cabin, sat down and stared out the window watching the last of the train yard slowly pass out of eyesight. The whole while plotting how I might run into the girl in cabin 28c again. It wasn’t long before my scheming was interrupted by my curiosity to hear what my parents were quietly discussing across from me. “It’s going to be difficult going back.” My mother was saying. “We didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms you know. We should have at least let the council know” My father was shaking his head as he spoke. "That was years ago and what gives them the right to tell us how we should raise our child? I will not be kept from what is rightfully ours.” “You mean what is rightfully our boys” my father interjected. Just then, trying to get a better hear of what they were saying I leaned in just a little closer. So close in fact, I had my nose right between them. “What’s mine?” I asked. I immediately knew I made a mistake. My parents both shot me the iciest look that made the blood in my veins freeze up like the windows of the train. “Rone!” they both yelled. That was it for that conversation. Oh well, I guess I’d just have to wait to find out. So, I bet you wanted to know what they were talking about just as much as I did.  I bet you wanted to find out just as much as I did. And, I’ll be damned. If I didn’t find out neither is anyone else.

That was a bit rude of me. Sorry. Let’s move this story on a bit further. Let’s say about fifteen minutes to be precise. The train had finally reached its desired speed and we were cantering on down the tracks. Now, I’ve never been on a train before, so I couldn’t wait to jump at the chance to explore. Especially, if it meant a chance to run into the girl with the moss green eyes. I pushed open the door to our cabin and looked passively to the right and then to the left toward the dining car and the center of train. I would have glanced into the neighboring cabin to see if the girl was there, but the shade was drawn. So, I began to walk down the corridor, sometimes passing by another passenger as they scurried from one cabin to another. By the time I reached the end of the first car I was used to the movement of the train. I couldn’t wait to see what or who else I might run into.

        I’m going to stop right here because frankly I don’t know what I should tell you happened next.  Either, I could tell you about what happened when I tried to cross from my car to the next or what happened right before I crossed. I don’t think I’ll tell you about either one. Why?  Easy. Just when I was about to leave the car I heard the awful sound of my father’s voice. Rone,You need to come back this instant! We need to talk”. Reluctantly, I trudged back to our cabin, ready to tune out whatever my parents had to say. Don’t you hate it when you are about to do something or make plans and something else comes up that you just can’t ignore? Me too.  This was one of those moments. Or so I thought. With my head down I slid open the door and shut it and turned around to a third person in the cabin. It was the girl with the moss green eyes. I couldn’t believe it. Here she was, in my own cabin. I just stood there, probably looking something like a mannequin who had to really use the bathroom. I’m sure I had the most pitiful look on my face.  “Rone, this is Calise. She is riding in the cabin next to us. She brought over some sandwiches to share with us and I figured you would be hungry since you didn’t eat breakfast.” My mother was talking to me but all I could do was stare at Calise. There was something about her. I thought it was her eyes at first, but it was something else.  “Rone! Didn’t you hear your mother?” my father snapped. “Yes sir.” I said sheepishly. Lilly handed me what she said was a Newfoundland turkey sandwich. I asked what was in it. Lilly told me it had goat cheese spinach tomatoes and onion.  Does goat cheese sound good to you? It doesn’t to me. The only thing I knew about goats were that they ate anything from old boots to soup cans. And people made cheese from goat’s milk? How disgusting is that? Well, not to be impolite, I took a small bite. Then, I took another. It was actually pretty good! “Thank you” I said. Calise nodded and looked out the window.

My father leaned forward, “so Calise, where are your parents? I’d like to thank them for these sandwiches.” Calise didn’t look like she wanted to answer. “They died when I was younger. They just left one day and never came back. I was told when I was older that they were never found, lost somewhere in these very mountains.” I felt awkward. Here was a girl who, from the sound of it, never knew her parents. And me, a guy who wished his parents were never around. “So, how old are you?” I blurted out. “Rone, never ask a girl how old she is. It is rude” my mother said scolding. It didn’t seem to bother Calise. “I’ll be 20 this week”, she said nonchalantly. “Really!?” I nearly stumbled over my own words. “I’ll be 20 this Saturday.” “Me too” she said. And as I was hanging on Calise’s every word. I noticed my mother lean over to my father trying not to make it obvious. Of course, it made it even more obvious. So, learning my lesson from earlier I acted like I wasn’t listening to what she was about to say. But, Calise touched my arm. Just then, I felt a shock go through my arm straight to my heart. Once I recovered my parents had finished their brief conversation. I caught the very tail end of it. “ it might be” my father said in a hushed tone. I started to feel dizzy just then.  The shock I felt was more like being struck by a bolt of lightning. Although, I’ve never actually been struck by lightning, I can only guess this is what it would feel like. Then, my vision got cloudy and I felt myself falling. “Rone are you alright?” My mother was standing over me. “What happened?” I stammered. “Well dear, you were talking to Calise about your birthday, then you just feinted and hit your head on the light fixture. “ Left you quite a gash.” “What about me floating on the ceiling?” my mother looked at me confused. “I think that hit on your head might be more serious. We’ll call for the resident doctor on the train to look at you."  "But, I don’t understand. It all happened because of her.” I pointed at Calise. "She touched me and a shock went to my heart. “Dear boy, you’re imagining things.” My father said. My eyes got heavy then, so I closed them. I must have fallen asleep. Because when I opened my eyes there was a stranger holding my wrist and looking at his watch. He was checking my pulse. It was the doctor