Donavon has always been the quiet and stand off(ish) kid in the neighborhood. When he was a few months into his fourth year, his parents took him to a specialized doctor, in hopes of ” finding a cure.” Don’t misunderstand, they’ve always dearly loved and accepted their precious boy, though predisposed to a lifetime of teasing, mockery, and bullying. They just decided to try harder; to help Donny feel a bit more ” normal”.

He had selective mutism. There’s situations when he simply can not speak, though (without awareness of his condition) it could bring serious consequences.

Now, aged five years, Donny has adapted to his new normal. He has a few buddies, goes fishing and hiking, creates art from Arizona’s famous red dirt. His most favorite pastime is exploring. There’s many overgrown areas of the west that history left behind. Covina, his best friend, would read to him, the old books and newspapers they’d find in the dilapidated saloon.

On a particular windy and overcast Thursday, the boys were trucking down the dusty path, as they did every day. They were discussing the idea of dissecting a frog, without omitting any possible disgusting detail. In the middle of a sentence, Covina heard a sudden, yet brief, shuffle in the brushes. It was to obvious to have been a small creature. On the other hand, there aren’t other humans around this part of the path either.

Curiosity won that brief moment; and the two boys changed course. Initially, the shuffle sounded as if in arms length. Had it been a creature, such could have effortlessly reached out and bit one of them. With no such luck; however, they searched and searched for what it is they heard. Nothing!

Suddenly, roughly forty yards to the west, they heard it again. The boys wasted no time scurrying to the left of their searched path and continued for three miles.

The stone path seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. It didn’t look familiar to either of the two; but, that didn’t matter. The path lead right up to an odd, unground, and shabby hobbit house.

Neither of the boys knew this place was here. They’ve never heard any adults talking about it either. Slowly and cautiously, Donny inched closer to the door. He had picked up the thickest stick nearby, and prepared himself for war. There, six inches from the stone wall laid something deep brown and medium in size. He couldn’t tell what it was, so he reached down to pick it up.

Covina slowly made his way over to Donny and stared.

“ How peculiar!” He voiced, starling Donny.

Donny’s facial expression was in agreement.

They walked over to the stone wall and sat. Opening the front cover, they saw a ticket. Train Ticket $7, Destination Unknown it read.

Covina turned the page,

” The train pulled into the station promptly at 7:07 pm…”

He clumped a small section of pages together and flipped to page 24.

” The train pulled into the station promptly at 7:07 pm…”

Again on page 36, 49, 73, and 104. The stories began the same but always ended differently from the journey before. The rest of the night, the two boys sat deep in the seclusion, reliving the tales recorded in this book.

“Maybe we should find this train station????” Covina asked Donavon.

Donny had that look in his eye and said, ” Vamos!”