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A few years ago, an author posted quite a few installments of a story based in a setting of their own creation and invited others to write stories in that setting as well. It apparently never caught on, but I found it extremely intriguing. So, I figured I'd pen such a tale and post chapters of it here. I tried to recap the gist of the setting itself so readers wouldn't have to hunt down the original story. I hope you enjoy it. CHAPTER 1 Today marks the third anniversary of my parents relocating to Preston, Kansas. It was on that day that my life changed forever. How could an almost-eighteen-year-old girl’s life be transformed so completely merely by moving to a new city? Well, that’s kind of a long story. But since you obviously came here to read a story, I’m guessing you won’t mind too much. Settle in and get comfy, because you may be here a while. So, back to my question of how something so minor could create such an upheaval in one’s life. The answer is both simple and complex. You see, Preston’s not exactly what could be defined as a normal Midwestern city. Far from it! I don’t claim to know all the particulars, but here’s what I DO know. Up until about a decade and a half ago, Preston was a town that was circling the drain. It had once been quite a hub of activity, thanks to a major railroad company making it their primary headquarters back in the day. The city picked up even more steam during World War II when its small ammunition plant received a massive government contract and exploded (no pun intended), creating more jobs than ever. But by 2005, the railroad had long since moved their main offices to Texas and the ammunition plant had gone belly-up, leaving behind a city that was a shell of its former self. Jobs were scarce, crime had risen and more citizens abandoned ship with each passing month. Like I said, Preston was circling the drain. That’s when a mysterious man from the deep south came into the picture. His name was Lucas Budd and he was freaking loaded! More cash than anyone could spend in five lifetimes. The rumor goes that he also had government connections in high places. And by that, I mean that practically all the bigwigs owed him for something or he had incriminating dirt on them. Or both. Who knows? The point is that he was able to use money and influence to gain total control of Preston. Total control. Here’s where things start getting crazy, but hang with me, okay? The total control I mentioned went way beyond anything that had been done before. Lucas Budd enacted laws of his own creation that even contradicted the Constitution itself. He must have caught a lot of government folks in the most lurid, illicit affairs imaginable to have pulled this off! He created a Patriarchy-based society that existed solely within the confines of a small city. It was extreme stuff too; not just the way it was in the 1950s. In a nutshell, women had no rights and had to be owned by men. The unowned women were essentially placed in the custody of the city government and, well, it wasn’t pretty. Oh, sure, there were laws that placed limits on what men could do to the women they owned, but that didn’t detract from the sickening fact that women were property. So, Lucas Budd and his family ruled over Preston. By all accounts, Budd comes off as a real charmer. You know the type. Classic Southern gentleman. But it’s all a facade. He’s one fucked up dude. I mean, that’s pretty plain to see, right? Some even claim that he possesses superhuman abilities of some vague nature. Whatever. His wife, Shyla, is some pillar of the community or some such and everyone just adores her. She organizes events, sets up fundraisers, blah, blah, blah. He has kids and a brother too, but I don’t know much about them. Can you see where this is all going? If not, you will momentarily. Now that the stage is set, let’s meet the cast of the fucked up theatrical play that is my life, starting with yours truly, Joella Myers. I used to go exclusively by “Jo”, but I’m no longer allowed that luxury. I really miss it too. It may not sound like much of a big deal to you, but it was an important part of my identity. I was “Jo”. Jo, the fearless tomboy. Jo, the headbanger chick. Jo, the badass who could handle just about anyone in a fight. Jo, the… well, you get the idea. I was a jeans-and-tee-shirt kind of girl and I was happy with that. I found my niche. My parents didn’t care much for all that, though, and attempted to dissuade me whenever they could. Eventually, they gave up, which made my life a lot easier. What can I say? I’m a rebel. Since we’re already on the subject, let’s talk a bit about my parents. My father, Kenneth Myers, was raised in Preston, but his parents headed to the east coast when he was twelve years old. That was in 1992 or so, long before Lucas Budd infected the town with his patriarchal rubbish. Dad did okay for himself, though. He went to community college, which is where he met my mother, and then went on to business school. He managed a clothing store for quite a few years, but left that job when he decided to uproot and move back to Preston. My mother, Lillian Myers, is pretty much the exact opposite of me, in that she’s docile and feminine to the point of it being annoying sometimes. She defers to Dad on almost every matter. Sometimes I think she’d have been better suited to having grown up in the 1950s when women were expected to dote on their husbands and all that nonsense. Still, it’s hard to blame her, as her parents were into gender roles big time. So it was really all she ever knew. She has never worked as far as I’ve ever heard, but she sure keeps one hell of a spotless house. Then, there’s my younger sister, Megan, who’s just one month shy of being three years younger than myself. Megan is a bit more complicated than my parents. On one hand, she’s quite girly like my mother, but on the other hand, she has some of my father’s dominant personality traits. She’s not too big on Patriarchy though, which is her one saving grace in my eyes. Like most siblings, our relationship had its ups and downs when we were young, but when she turned thirteen, my parents decided that she would be left in charge when they were away. That changed our relationship for the worse… and that’s an understatement! Look, I know Megan was the quintessential good girl, always doing “the right thing” (whatever the hell that is) and obeyed every rule my parents instated. And, yeah, I also know that I had gotten into trouble at school prior to their decision, and once even had a cop bring me back home at three o’clock in the morning when a couple of friends and I snuck out of the house after curfew, but come on. She was three years younger than me, for shit’s sake! You can imagine how that rule settled with me. I already had a chip on my shoulder because she was so much taller and more developed than I was. So this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. From then on out, my behavior took a nosedive. In fact, I avoided home as much as possible, especially on weekends. I started hanging out a lot with Byron Kimball, a trans male whose parents were super lax. I went to school with him, though he was in the grade ahead of me. He was super “book smart” and kind of weird. He was into metal and horror flicks too, so we became friends about as soon as he moved to town. My parents didn’t like Byron much. They said his parents should “take a hand” with him and make him live as a girl. I hate that old fashioned mentality so much! So that was my life up until two months before we packed up and moved to Hell. I mean Preston. Same thing. I know what you’re thinking. “There has to be SOME catalyst that caused them to pull up stakes so suddenly.” You’d be right in thinking that and I can’t tell you how many times I wished I could rewind time and do things differently. Without going into all the particulars, I’ll just say that Byron and I ended up at a party that was raided by the police and, well, we were caught. The fact that we were both heavily intoxicated may have had something to do with why they managed to snag us so easily. All hell broke loose when the officers delivered me to my parents’ doorstep only for me to puke in the foyer. I was sent to bed and told that this would be dealt with in the morning. Pretty much standard issue parent crap. Or so I thought. My hungover ass was brought downstairs at the buttcrack of dawn by Megan. Mom and Dad were waiting for me in the living room with their “pissed off and disappointed” faces on. I knew I was in for it, but I had no idea just HOW much I was in for it. They explained that they weren’t going to stand by and watch me send my life into the gutter or some overly dramatic drivel like that. I was on a bad path and yadda, yadda, yadda. That’s when they hit me with the whole Preston thing. I was floored. How could a town like that even exist? We live in the 21st century and women have long since obtained our freedom. They went on to say that there would be big changes in store for us as a family, but that everything would be much better in the long run. They didn’t go into any detail whatsoever and wouldn’t divulge more no matter how much I pried. They kept everything under wraps for a couple of months. All I knew was that we were going to be moving to a town that strips women of our hard-earned rights. There was never any mention of the rest of their plans. Even my sister was pissed about the prospect of moving. After all, she wasn’t into patriarchy and had made a lot of friends. Of course, she blamed me more than my parents, but in retrospect, I can kind of understand that. To this day, I have no idea how much information they gave Megan. All I know is that the closer moving day we got, the more terrified I was. Mom and Dad spoke in hushed, conspiratorial voices, often while huddled around their laptop. Something major was happening and not knowing about it just about killed me. What kind of awful fate awaited me in the city of Preston, Kansas? The answer to that question was far more intense than I ever could have imagined.