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    Cover of I Cheerfully Refuse
    Adventure Fiction

    I Cheerfully Refuse

    by

    “Bad Thoughts About Author­i­ty” fill the air as the nar­ra­tor and Sol find them­selves anchored along a calm canal, sur­round­ed by the peace­ful beau­ty of orchards and fields. Sol, usu­al­ly vibrant and full of life, shrinks under a blan­ket as she sleeps, which prompts the nar­ra­tor to reflect on her vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty. The cir­cum­stances they’re fac­ing weigh heav­i­ly on him, and although he wish­es to soothe her with music from his bass gui­tar, his mind fails to recall a melody that could bring com­fort in their shared iso­la­tion.

    As the day breaks, the peace­ful morn­ing is punc­tu­at­ed by the sight of chil­dren fly­ing a kite near­by. Sol, how­ev­er, is imme­di­ate­ly on edge, mis­tak­ing the fly­ing kite for a threat­en­ing pres­ence she calls a “death angel.” This belief, she explains, was passed on to her by some­one named Richard, who spoke of celes­tial beings observ­ing their every thought, espe­cial­ly regard­ing author­i­ty. This strange and some­what dis­turb­ing world­view paints Sol as some­one who holds dark beliefs, fur­ther empha­siz­ing the com­plex lay­ers of her char­ac­ter.

    The morn­ing begins to shift as they set­tle into a more light­heart­ed moment, with Sol sug­gest­ing they make pan­cakes. As they enjoy their meal under the sun, they briefly leave behind the dis­turb­ing notion of death angels. Sol becomes fas­ci­nat­ed with the kite and express­es a desire to fly it her­self, prompt­ing the nar­ra­tor to rem­i­nisce about his own expe­ri­ences with kite fly­ing, which he recalls as a sim­ple yet joy­ful activ­i­ty, akin to catch­ing a fish in the sky. This moment of con­nec­tion serves as a brief reprieve from the heavy thoughts that have cloud­ed their jour­ney.

    How­ev­er, their peace­ful morn­ing is soon dis­rupt­ed by a group of local boys. At first, they appear inno­cent enough, but things quick­ly esca­late when they start shoot­ing at the nar­ra­tor with air rifles and rutaba­gas, an absurd and irri­tat­ing attack. Sol, unde­terred by the boys’ antics, appears with a spear in hand, send­ing the boys flee­ing in fear. This inter­ac­tion high­lights her fierce pro­tec­tive­ness and hints at the hid­den strengths that she pos­sess­es, mak­ing it clear that she’s not eas­i­ly intim­i­dat­ed by oth­ers.

    As the pair con­tin­ues their jour­ney through the canal, they notice the stark con­trast between the live­ly main­land and the dete­ri­o­rat­ing island. The island’s neglect­ed homes and land­scapes con­vey a sense of despair, and the grow­ing ten­sions between the islanders and main­lan­ders are evi­dent. Envy and resent­ment have tak­en root, high­light­ing the bit­ter­ness of the island’s inhab­i­tants, who seem to view out­siders with sus­pi­cion and hos­til­i­ty. These ten­sions serve as a sub­tle reminder of the frag­ile dynam­ics that exist in this frac­tured world.

    In need of sup­plies and fuel, the nar­ra­tor and Sol vis­it a run­down gas sta­tion where they meet Dou­glas, a pecu­liar, talk­a­tive man who offers them some insight into the local dynam­ics. Dou­glas invites them to join a month­ly com­mu­nal vig­il against per­ceived local evils, fur­ther immers­ing them in the strange rit­u­als and cus­toms of the area. Despite the unset­tling atmos­phere, the nar­ra­tor and Sol man­age to gath­er what they need for their jour­ney, albeit with a lin­ger­ing sense of dis­com­fort.

    As they leave, they notice the absence of a bull­dog, a detail that catch­es the nar­ra­tor’s atten­tion. This absence rais­es ques­tions, espe­cial­ly regard­ing Sol’s acqui­si­tion of cash to fund their pro­vi­sions. It’s unclear where this mon­ey came from, and this lin­ger­ing mys­tery adds depth to Sol’s char­ac­ter, sug­gest­ing that she may be har­bor­ing secrets that will unfold as the sto­ry pro­gress­es. This moment sets the stage for future rev­e­la­tions, keep­ing the read­er intrigued and eager to learn more about Sol’s hid­den motives and the com­plex world she nav­i­gates.

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