This is Chapter 1 of the novel Lore and War. Lore and War is pt. 2 of Five Categories Theory. Both books are now available for purchase:.

By Dylan Ensz

Chapter 1: Etherealities

Morris lived in Harborport, Wisconsin -- a town he considered redundant in both name and function.  He ate his customary barbacoa dinner at PueTrto Viejo and watched snowflakes swirl on the starlit lake.

Morris’s phone rang.  It was his dad.  His heart jumped; he declined.

He put his face in his hands, then pretended to rub his eyes.  It didn’t matter; a glance revealed no observers.  He shoved the phone into his pocket.

Someone cleared his throat.  Morris turned to find an impossibly large man grinning down from beside his booth.  How did he get there?  He hadn’t even been in the restaurant a moment ago.  “You look like an enterprising sort!” said the giant.  “My name is Voss.  Would you like to accompany me on an adventure through the world of man?”

Morris blinked.  “What?”

“I have some traveling to do and I could use a guide.  My research shows you’re the best man for the job.”

A guide?  A guide to what?  “Are you sure you have the right guy?”

“You are Morris, 33, from Phoenix, formerly an English teacher, currently a freelance editor.  You’re strong-willed.  People bother you, so you keep to yourself.  If my judgment of your character is inaccurate, let me know -- I’m not good at judging people yet.”

Morris narrowed his eyes.  “No, that’s a fair description.”  He needed to be more secure with his personal information to protect himself from scams -- and, apparently, from boisterous giants.

Voss struck a pose, his foot on a chair.  “Ours will be a truly grand mission!  We will explore lands you didn’t know existed; lands you didn’t know could exist!  We’ll mingle with monks, consort with kings; perhaps even hobnob with the gods themselves!  And in the end, we’ll create the defining work of humanity!”

Morris chuckled.  “Sure.  Okay, buddy.”  In other circumstances, he might quip that the true defining work of humanity would be the friends they made along the way.

“Splendid!  We shall reconvene in the morning.”  Voss departed.

Morris breathed a sigh of relief.  As he turned back to his food, he caught himself trying to figure out what Voss was talking about, and felt like an idiot for trying to rationalize crazy-talk.  But was Voss crazy?  How would a crazy person know so much about Morris?  Was Voss a stalker?  Morris snorted.  The idea was preposterous -- why would anyone ever stalk him?

Morris’s phone buzzed.  He took it out; voicemail from Dad.  Agh.  He put the phone back in his pocket.  Then he took it out again, and pressed play.  

“Hey son.”  Long pause.  “We’re missing you more than ever down here.  Mom’s worried about you.  And, I guess… I’m worried about mom.  She’s having surgery on the twenty-sixth, and, uh…”  His voice wavered and cracked.  “She might not come back from this one.  If you could call, or make it to Christmas this year…  I know you have a lot on your mind…”  The silence weighed heavy.  

“If you ever want to talk, you know we’re always here.”  Dad didn’t want to say goodbye.  Eventually, he did.

Morris felt paralyzed.

The mariachi music seemed to taunt him.

He drove home, where bitter winds ripped at the windows for hours.