Ethan had almost fallen sleep again when vertigo snapped him awake. The train was slowing down, grinding on the rails. Ethan realized he reached the city station.

Travelers mingled beyond the window, pulling along wheeled briefcases, their noses in their cellphones, shouting for their children to keep close. Normal people. Everything was normal again. There were no nightmares here.

Ethan moved to get up when he felt something on his thigh. He jolted when he saw the face of the dream man. It took his brain a second to catch up.

He picked up his sketchbook and sighed. Why did I draw this? he wondered. Like I need this stupid face haunting me....

Still, the sketch turned out surprisingly well, given that he drew it in a state of exhausted terror. He hadn't had much light to see what he was drawing, either, and he had no reference beyond a fading dream-memory. All things considered, it was a sketch to be proud of, even if he didn't want to look at it.

Finally the train screeched to a full stop. Ethan closed up the sketchbook and stuffed it in his duffel bag, wishing he had more time to sleep. The sun wasn't even up yet. The days were getting so short this far into autumn.

He followed the herd of passengers as they exited the train, then took a deep stretch. He had always wanted to travel by rail rather than plane or bus, but after hours of staring at flat prairies, he was over it.

"Ethan!"

Someone was standing up from a nearby bench, waving at him. An older man matching Ethan's height, with a hooked nose and a full head of silver hair. He was in trim shape despite his age, dressed in a dark blue turtleneck, black topcoat, jeans and dark boots, with thick-framed glasses. The man was both familiar and unfamiliar, but not in the same way as the dream man.

Ethan waved back and walked over to him. "Hey, Uncle Vic," he said, mirroring his uncle's broad grin.

Uncle Vic was Ethan's father's older brother by several years. Ethan couldn't remember the last time he saw him, except that it was when Ethan was in early junior high. 

"Hey yourself, little man," said Vic, clapping a paw on Ethan's shoulder.

"I'm not little anymore, Uncle." Ethan clapped Vic's shoulder just as heavily.

Vic groaned in mock pain. "Oof, and I'm not young anymore, so take it easy on me." He laughed. "How's the trip?"

Ethan thought about his dream, but it seemed silly to mention. Nightmares were kids' problems. And like Ethan said, he wasn't little anymore.

"Was good," he said instead. "Kinda boring."

His uncle pursed his lips. "Novelty wears off quick, eh? Train rides aren't much different from car rides when you're just sitting there waiting to get where you're going. Just another window and a bunch of land passing you by."

Ethan nodded, smiled, shrugged. He didn't know what else to say. Re-introductions were awkward.

Uncle Vic twitched his head as a motion for Ethan to follow, so he did. "Want me to take your bag?"

"I got it."

"Alright, big man. Car's just outside."

They weaved through the crowds as they made their way to the station exit. Vic's car, a polished green Lincoln probably older than Ethan waited for them in a parking lot by the train station. Uncle Vic popped the trunk and Ethan filled it with his duffel bag.

Just as cars can have new-car-smells, old cars have old-car-smells, but this old car didn't have either. It had a warm, pine-fresh air to it. Not artificially so, like from a new air freshener, because there was no air freshener, but more of a used, lived-in pine smell. Like from a pine tree that had lived a while, had seen a thing or two in its time, rather than a new, emerald-green pine tree with something to prove.

"Nice car," said Ethan when he settled in.

Vic pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. "She's my baby," he said. "I take care of her. It's important to take care of your vehicles, you know. They need personality, sure, but they need care, too. A dirty, smelly car isn't personality, it's just dirty and smelly. Know what I'm saying?"

"Sure. So when can I drive it?"

"I'll let you sit in the driver's seat some time. If you wear a seatbelt. While the car is off. And the keys are at least fifty feet away. I might even let you touch the steering wheel."

"You're not one of those fun uncles, are you?"

"I played a video game once."

Ethan snorted. He had his licence and everything, and he needed to practice. He imagined rolling up to his new school in this baby. He'd make a hell of a first impression that way, he thought.

His uncle made small talk with him on the drive out of the city, catching up on everything he missed since Uncle Vic and Aunt Jenny visited him and his dad all those years ago. It wasn't a happy story. Aunt Jenny got sick for a very long time, and though Vic cared for her as best she could, it wasn't enough. Now he lived alone. 

He asked about Ethan, but between the sad story and Ethan's tiredness, he couldn't think of what to talk about. Everything he said about himself sounded dumb: He liked to draw. He played games. He used to play hockey, mostly due to his dad's encouragement, but he didn't anymore. He listened to EDM (Vic didn't know what this was). He spoke passable French. He was an okay student, but he daydreamed too much. He didn't know what he wanted to do for a living. 

I must be boring the hell out of him, Ethan thought. He probably thinks I'm a good-for-nothing west coast hippie with no practical skills. 

It's not like Vic's a blue collar labourer, though. He has an MD! I should be calling him Doctor Uncle Vic.

Good point. Maybe you should tell him how you have conversations with yourself in your head. I'm sure he'd love to know all about that.

"Sounds like you've got a lot of interests," Vic said, giving Ethan an easy smile. "Maybe you can tell me more when you're not half-asleep?"

Ethan smirked. "Deal."

They continued the trip in respectful silence.

After the tall buildings turned into flat fields, the fields turned into clusters of spruce trees, and the highway turned into a rural two-lane road, Ethan saw the welcome sign for Shirewood, depicting Robin Hood in a forest. 

Having just moved out of a city condo, Ethan wasn't used to this much green. He couldn't see any buildings peeking above the pine trees. Shirewood really did look like Sherwood Forest at first. When they got deeper into the heart of town, the pine and spruce were replaced with half-dressed poplar trees, their leaves of autumn gold sprinkling down over the roads. 

There were bike lanes, character homes, little shops with names Ethan didn't recognize and which never went higher than two storeys. The roads weren't full of cars, people didn't crowd the sidewalks, and walls were clear of graffiti. It was all so calm and picturesque it made Ethan uneasy, like the whole town was telling a white lie.

Eventually Vic spoke again. "Look there, there's your new school."

Ethan looked out Vic's window at the smallish building nearby. It was the opposite of the school he attended back home--rather than being a huge building with a small field, it was a small building with a massive field. It looked old, too, built out of bricks that weren't all the exact same size, and there was a big round clock above the main doors.

Only a few cars were parked in the small lot beside it. School didn't start for another hour and a half. A sign in front of the building said, "Shirewood High Halloween Festival this Friday!" Ethan hadn't even had time to think about a costume since he found out he'd be moving.

"Went there myself, way back," said Uncle Vic as they passed the building by. "Doesn't look like much, but it's got character. Been through a lot. Oh, good teachers, too--couple of 'em are friends of mine--and a tight community. Lots of events and groups and the like."

"Cool," said Ethan without enthusiasm. He was too tired to think about socializing. Besides, most of his hobbies were solitary. It was easy to disappear in a city and just focus on his own art. He didn't know if he'd have the same anonymity in a small school.

He leaned his head against the window and tried to get some sleep, but they reached Vic's home a couple minutes later. It was hidden away in a maze of suburban cul-de-sacs and side-streets. Ethan was convinced that even Vic made a few slow, ponderous turns before remembering where the heck he lived.

After they pulled into the driveway, Vic was kind enough to grab Ethan's bag from the trunk and bring it inside. Ethan followed, too tired to argue. 

Vic's place reminded Ethan of the small houses he'd find in video games like Pokémon. A little blue building with a white trim, a peaked roof, a porch, and a mustard yellow door. The inside smelled not unlike his car, but with less pine and more cedar. Everything was clean and the furniture and nearby cabinets looked new, even though portraits on the walls showed the same furniture from what must have been many years earlier. Ethan was going to have to become more disciplined about cleaning his room. He'd feel guilty if his living space was the only part of the house that wasn't tidy.

"Well," said Vic, putting down the duffel bag, "it ain't much, but it's home."

Before Ethan could reply, a flabby grey-and-black cat padded through the hallway to greet them. Ethan grinned and gave the cat a scratch and a stroke, dragging his palm all along its back and up its tail. It swished and purred and nuzzled Ethan's leg happily.

"And here's Pepper saying hello," Vic said. "Looks like he likes you already. You're not allergic to cats, are you?"

"No," said Ethan. "You didn't think to ask my dad that before you agreed to let me stay here?"

"If I did, I don't remember. I have a terrible memory, sometimes. Almost forgot where my house was a minute ago."

"Gettin' old, I guess."

Vic laughed. "Aren't you a smartass these days. Just for that, you can carry your own stuff to your room. It's upstairs, first door on the left. Or. No. Second door."

"Okay."

"On your right. Did I say right?"

"I'll find it." Ethan gave Pepper another scratch on the head, then picked up his bag and made his way up the stairs.

Framed portraits of Aunt Jenny lined the second floor hallway. Bright, happy eyes, dark curls of hair, floral sundresses in every photo. She was always smiling, even when she wasn't getting her picture taken. Ethan's stomach tightened. He had few memories of her, but he missed her for her smile and her warmth. He could only imagine how much Vic missed her too.

On the second floor, Ethan had to peek into every room before finding what he presumed to be his bedroom (it ended up being the first door on the right). It was relatively empty other than a bed, a dresser, and a small desk with a lamp. This would have been Vic and Jenny's child's room. Instead it was Ethan's. His stomach tightened some more.

He put his bag down on his new bed and sat down next to it, thinking quietly to himself. Other than the nightmare, things hadn't been bad so far. The town was different than he was used to, but it was far from threatening.

Still, there was something about the train ride that made him feel like he was in a whole new world. A place less heavy and solid compared to a concrete city. A place that could be anything, that could mould itself into new shapes on a whim. 

He didn't know why he imagined such strange things. It must have all been in his head.

In a way, he was right.