Survival isn’t always for the fittest.
 The farm was scorching in the humid summer. I pespired at such a rate, that I could not wipe it all away. I tried to cool myself, but I could not find any place that was cooler than 100 degrees, other than the chicken coup, but that red and white hut was filled with chickens that would attack if you invaded their safe space; even with that it, it smelled like rotten eggs in there, adding to a list of reasons no one should go in there with their dignity.
I resorted to chasing Fido around as he tried to chew on his bone. I dumped my head in the horses’ water, to find it was near boiling hot. I went into the barn and made a fort out of hay, making chairs and tables and sitting some chickens to eat at my puerile table. The chickens clucked in indignation as I ran them off to try and save my masterpiece
The sun became evenascant and it became dusk. I accompanied Fido when he went to herd the sheep back into their pen for the night. We walked home together with the little light there was to see with, to find that there was no food for me that night because I had messed around with the animals all day. My mother enlightened me that John Smith once said, ‘if you don’t work, you don’t eat.’
I played from dawn ‘till dusk each day of each week, and I savored every moment of it. I knew my parents would soon become tired of me and send me to school where I would just skip class every day. Soon enough my father had a conversation with me.
“We are losing money feeding you, and we will have to kick you to the curb,” he said with diplomacy “We have no other choice but to, and our only hope is that you find triumph wherever you go next.” I screamed and wailed at the locked doors and closed windows. My brother was magnanimous enough to open a window to let me in to grab my things and that only.
So, with some habiliments, Fido, and my prized watch, I headed out in search of adventure; I am poised
 I would find something to do in a month, like a big sprawling adventure across the country, and I wasn’t wrong. I set out north in search of something interesting.
The sun was in the sky and the sky was the lightest shade of blue you could imagine. The trees swayed with the cool Autumn breeze making the easy 90 into a cool 80 degrees. I hoped to get far in the several hours of light I had left, but alas, it soon became night and I needed to make shelter quick. I found a tree which served good enough shelter for the time being. I lie down at the base of the tree in the most comfortable position I could find, and Fido lie down next to me.
I awoke with Fido laying by my side keeping me company. He watched the horizon as the sun began to rise to make a beguiling red and orange sight. I began to get up as my Father’s old chevy truck went by; he seemed to be going so sluggish yet so rapid at the same time, just like molasses out of a shotgun. It awoke me out of my almost vegetative state and I began to realize that he drove straight past me without a care in the world; I doubt he even realized that I existed in that moment.
My stomach started to growl and rumble. I was still 10 miles from town with no expeditious way to town to get food. I needed to leave now to have any chance of making it before dark.
With an empty stomach and some time on my hands, I followed the road that I knew so well, looking for a food source as I passed by. I walked swiftly as to not waste time. The shrubbery around me started to fade as I swiftly jogged. Fido kept pace quite easily, almost running faster than me at times.
My paucity of fitness was made apparent by how fast I slowed down over time. My swift jog rapidly turned into a crawl as all the strength left my body.
“My deficiency of food would be the death of me.” I thought as I slowed to a snail’s pace. I took a glance around to find that there was a bush with pink flowers around a foot high that had a salmon colored fruit on it. I was told by my brothers that wild cranberry bushes were normal around where he lived, and he was right. I quickly scavenged as many as I could carry and feasted on the berries, and I even gave Fido some too.
Although there would never be enough to savor my insatiable hunger, I lived and tracked onward. I began to go again at a leisurely rate as to not upset my stomach. I counted the time on my watch. The clicks of the faded silver watch soothed my anxiety from being alone in the middle of nowhere.
To my dismay, Fido occasionally barked at stray squirrels and deer. Deer would often poke their heads out from the treeline to see why I was here.
I blithely strolled along blissfully unaware of my changing surroundings. The green shrubbery and steady tree line started to fade away, as vast plains took their place. The town was just ahead on the skyline, the buildings were so small that bugs could inhabit them. The road changed under my feet, my malleable shoes needn’t conform to the harsh rocks of the southern ground. Cracks shot through the shoddily made paved road, the cracks were a tree, branching off into smaller and smaller cracks until they disappeared completely.
Perspiration rolled down my face and arms; the heat was blistering. It seemed insurmountable, and my body was starting to go out on me. Everything around me went dull. Everything in sight faded to a black nothing where it seemed like nothing could ever be created.
Water is wet. It invades every substance and finds a way in between it’s molecular structure. I felt something close in around me but I was too scared to look. My eyes were sewn shut and nothing could ever change that. My hands moved without my consent to keep away what evil lurks around me. Voices rang out like gunshots. The silence there was once was shattered. A ringing started that wouldn’t stop; it surrounded me even more so than everything else, making me feel encapsulated, claustrophobic.
“Stop,” I yell “Make it stop!”
Silence enveloped the room as it had before, which made me quiver. My eyes finally open to reveal several disgruntled bar goers and the sheriff of the town. The room was quite dark, very few windows were in the building, let alone being open. The room was that of an old western saloon; nearly everything was made out of the oak trees that were native to the area. I got up hurriedly, running into one of the support beams while stumbling over myself in the process of finding the exit. The room spun and spun with no sign of stopping.
I was surrounded by 3 aliens staring down upon me. Their mein was that of something that was unfamiliar to me. Their alien language was unintelligible to my human ears. They had tan skin and stretched eyes, their noses malformed when compared to a normal person. When they spoke they revealed their endless rows of mustard colored teeth. Their hair was a wide range of colors, from black to brown. They had ears but they were stretched to unworldly proportions. Their faces were round but circular, usually with quite sharp chins.
Everything that was dull was now bright, everything that was stretched is standard, everything that was blurry is now in focus. The sheriff was in front of me, his hat was beside him and his hair was ruffled, beside him were his two confederates; their expressions showed a very deep confusion.
My head pulsed with a dull confusion of the last occurring events. I looked around once more to find 4 people staring down at me from the balcony of the second story. One person walked out from beside the bar to my aid and another and another, until people started coming back in droves. A small crowd of unknown faces surrounded me. Each faced as perplexed as the next, the whole town had to be around me. I couldn’t imagine a bigger crowd of people around me. It was suffocating, even more so than the water that had pooled around me.
It was quite the hussle and bussle, people in the back pushing to see what was happening, people in the front pushing back, afraid to lose their spots. Noise grew and grew from the crowd, either from it growing larger, or the people growing lowder. A large man parted through the crowd like moses did the Red Sea, his great waddle pushed on people even when they parted. “what is going on here?!” the fat man screached, his voice being high and feminine, like a piccolo being surrounded by a crowd of baritones. The talking ceased immediately.
My eyes lock to his like magic, his eyes were hazel in color, they were darker than the wood of the building, yet still a light color. They projected a message that was not one of peace, but war, like a deep dark burning hatred. To top it off, his face was that of a tomato, red not from being out in the sun too long but for being irate. The staring match seemed to go on forever, blinking was never an option in that moment, my brain never told me to close my eyes. My eyes began to go dry, it felt like I was in dire need of water. All the senses in my body turned off in that moment, all except my eyes.
“What’s happenin’ here?” inquired the sheriff impatiently, breaking our stare immediately. I look around the room to find blank stares as no one knew what was exactly ‘happenin’’, even I was clueless to the predicament I was in. The air grew stale and old, leaving a dry taste in my mouth. The puddle around me had dissipated, but still my clothes were cold and moist.
“Someone saw ‘em out of town and drug ‘em in here.” The bartender finally said, his voice was crackly like a record player, yet also demanding a demeaning way. The way his words rolled of his tongue made me shiver, it was like he was used to this sort of thing. The fat man stiffened up quite significantly when he had said that. His eyes dropped to the ground, his angry demeanor turned in that of guilt and longing. He waddled back through the crowd, the people in the way of his waddle parted more than before as to not get hit this time around. He no longer had confidence in his step, but fear, anguish. I could not feel good about the fact that I had metaphorically won the battle. I had no intention of having this be the outcome, but I cannot stop what has already unfolded.
“You’re going with us kid.” his raspy voice not conveying a hidden confidence. He gestures to me with his hairy, calloused hand to get up. Getting up was a struggle, I could barely stand let alone walk. My legs wavered and shook, and collapsed after a few seconds of standing. It was a like a deer with a broken leg trying to walk, it just doesn’t work. Every attempt got less and less successful until ultimately the sheriff got bored, put on his dark brown leather cowboy hat, it had a shiny pendant on the front of the hat, and he picked me up. I got in his black chevy pickup and we had left the bar. As we left I had noticed the name of the bar was “Easy J’s” a bar my father occasionally went to after work on Saturdays, although I have never been in it.
The sky was dark, but the sun was still visible. “Where are you from?” his voice was cordial, welcoming;  no response. “are you hungry or thirsty?” no response. “Where do you live?” silence. “Do you have siblings?” the crickets chirped in the background “Who are your parents?” a wolf howled in the distance. His barrage of questions soared from one ear to another, ‘ignorance is bliss’, they say.
It seemed that hours had past when we had reached the police station. The station was wooden with 2 glass windows in the front. The windows revealed nothing of the inside except the bars that prisoners were often held in.
The sheriff had opened the door to the truck and jumped out, splattering his surroundings in a thick layer of dark brown mud. He was quite the derrick in his body build, very bulky and confident with his stature. He walked to my side of the truck, and opened the door for me. I was careful not to jump out as I didn’t want my clothes being drenched in the mud. His exact path to the door of the truck was entrenched into the ground making an artifact for the day to come. His khaki pants covered in mud. He was disheveled from a long day of work, his green and black button up was halfway tucked in while the other side hung a drift by itself.
I followed him into the station. He swung the door open, and it nearly hit the side of the wall. The door was a massive oak wood door, probably weighing over 30 pounds. “Names tom,” he said placing down his hat on the rack next to him “What’s your name?”
“My name is Barney, I am 12.” He was quick to write down every detail.
I gazed off in amusement of the guns and bars surrounding me. I jumped around from one thought to another, thoughts of being a sheriff and stopping the biggest heist to what it was like to shoot a 12 gauge shotgun.
“Can you tell me about your family?” My attention went promptly to him.
“My ma’s name is Mary, and my pa’s name is John,” I said with certainty “They work on a farm in Aiken.”
The sun was enveloped completely in a veil of darkness, making it entirely necessary for a lamp. The room was lit by 3 lamps in the corners of the room, one corner being the office which was not in use.
“You can stay here as we find you a place to stay,” The sheriff proclaimed, ruining my train of thought “Your father refuses to come, says he ‘could care less for a slacker of your sort’.”
“My brothers could save me.” I mused, almost saying it aloud. My mistakes were finally coming to haunt me and I would have to suffer for it. There were so many opportunities to be had just by not having to live on that wretched farm. I could be a cowboy, or a bank robber, or even a sheriff. The possibilities are endless. Only my mind was keeping me back and I knew it.
“I’m sorry that I was being so rude before,” I said guiltily, annunciating every word out of spite “I was just unaware of how to respond.”
Tom glanced over at me, slowly smirking. “You don’t have to apologize son.” He stated bluntly “No harm, now fowl as I always say.”
I went blind, my watch reflected the light from the lamp next to me. The time displayed on my watch was 10:28 PM. Rest was needed in due time for the day ahead. There was a sense of tranquility as I went into a deep state of sleep.
Waking up to sheer sunlight is always enlightening; ‘another day, another chance to make something great’ as my father had always said. Light shone through the open windows, revealing the room had not changed since I had fallen asleep.
There was a blanket on top of me and a pillow behind my head, the blanket had horses, stables, and wilderness knitted on it.
“Good morning son,” The sheriff ruffled my hair. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept well” I state with a smirk
“We found you a place to stay.”
“That’s great!”
“Would you like to go now?” he asked enthusiastically “I can take you any time.”
“I’d love to go right now.”
He opened the door to the jail, and we walked to his truck. He opened the truck door for me and we drove through the dirt roads and hilly forests for what seemed like miles. When we arrived I knew it would be the place for me, lots of space, many great people, and lots of animals to play with. I was so grateful.
From these events I have learned several things: do not take things for granted, do not be so arrogant and cruel, and last of all, work is the way to success.