Author's note: This story centers around a renaissance festival three years after a pandemic kills most of the men in the area. The focus is on the characters and the festival itself, not the post-apocalyptic element and it is a bit of a slow burn. The festival is drawn from multiple real events in the pacific northwest including the Oregon Country Fair, Faireworlds and the Washington's Midsummer Renaissance Festival. Hope you enjoy!
Following the hand painted sign reading "Midsummer Renaissance Festival" in beautiful script, Ryan turned off the County road and onto the gravel path leading into the forest. His aging subaru bounces along the pothole-filled path as he follows a bumper sticker-covered jeep towards the check-in booth.
It had been a long drive and he was tired and antsy. Two hours on the road with his kids before dropping them off at their grandparents house, and then another four hours to get to the festival. Just thinking about the kids made him a little anxious. This was his first major trip away from them since their mother passed and the world turned upside down, and no amount of reassuring words from his mom and dad could completely set his mind at ease.
But relaxation is what I need, he thought to himself, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. Just last week, he turned forty, although the last three years feel like they should count double. Between the virus and losing his wife, the days had blurred together with little relief from the painful reality of life.
The thick canopy of the pacific northwest forest provides dappled light like warm honey on this August afternoon as the jeep finally moves on and a busty brunette in a blue corset and dark red dress waves him forward.
"Good morrow!" she calls out as Ryan rolls down his window. "Ticket please?"
"Good morrow!" he replies, handing over the printed sheet with a QR code on it. "Sorry I'm not in costume, yet." She waves her hand dismissively.
"Don't worry about it, ah! You are a volunteer!" She says excitedly. "That's perfect, we don't have many... " she trails off, suddenly awkward.
"... you can say it. It's fine." He replies, trying to keep his tone light. "You don't have many guys coming."
She nods. "With so many people finally coming back for the Midsummer festival, we can use the help. Can't have our ladies without a few lords, right?" She laughs.
"I'm excited to be here." He replies politely. And he meant it. It was time for a little escape from reality.
It had been three years since the Gendercide ripped through the country, killing 80% of the men in the first six months. It was a really dark time. Emergency declarations. Lots of group memorials, candles and pictures on the wall.
It got ugly too. Garbage piling up, construction projects ground to a halt, 911 calls unanswered. The government acted quickly, providing economic relief and emergency job training to fill vacancies. Childcare facilities were frantically opened as hundreds of thousands of women reentered the workforce. And things slowly got back to something closer to normal but even now, it was hit or miss on whether a business would be open on any given day.
Thankfully, Ryan was one of the lucky ones with the genes that made him resistant to the virus. His Dad, his son and him all dodged the worst of it, only getting sick for a couple of weeks before getting back on their feet. And that would have made all of this manageable if it weren't for losing his wife three months later.
It was quick but devastating. Stomach cancer. By the time they knew, it was too late.
if only the virus hadn't crippled the healthcare system, they might have been able to catch it earlier and start treatment. If only he had been paying more attention. If only, if only.
He shook his head. No, that was the last thing he wanted to dwell on. It had been three years. Three years of packing lunches, trips to the park, drying tears and loving his kids twice as hard, as they tried to push on without a mom. Without his wife.
He deserved a break. An escape. To reconnect with who he was and is and could be.
Or at least get a little stoned for a weekend at the renaissance fair.
"Is this your first time?" She asks.
"I came six or seven years ago, but only for the day. Never as a volunteer or overnight." Ryan replies.
"Oooh, you are in for a treat." She leans in towards the car window, giving him a generous eyeful of her cleavage. "Drive down that path there, and then hang a right. You can pitch your tent anywhere in the woods south of the road. Once you are unloaded, follow the road down and park your car in the meadow below. Sound good?"
"Easy peasy." Ryan says. The woman catches his eyes, which may not have been on the road, and gives him a sly smile.
"Alright, keep it slow on the road. Just make sure to check in with Karina at the front gate before 8am tomorrow for your volunteer assignment. And have a good time!"
"Oh I will," he replies with a warm smile, "I'm a very merry man." And with that, he carefully pulls forward down the gravel path.
###
With a sleeping bag and a tent tucked under his arm, Ryan clambered his way over the logs and twisting pine needle coated paths of the woods.
Every twenty paces or so, there were colorful tapestries, elaborate lean-tos and tents from various attendees, all spaced out amongst the trees for some semblance of privacy. As dinner time was fast approaching, the sounds of cooking and camaraderie rang out through the trees, filling the air with the echoes of conversation.
Climbing over a crumbling nurse log, Ryan tamps down a nice flat spot between a pair of Douglas Firs and a cedar tree. He tosses down the tent and sleeping bag to hold the space.
"Hey there neighbor!" A boisterous voice calls out. Ryan turns. Twenty paces from his new site, a green celtic patterned tapestry is hung on a string between two trees. Peering over the top, is a bright-eyed woman with bushy red hair and a big smile.
"Are you setting up camp?" She asks, slipping under the tapestry to come closer.
"I am, is that okay?" Ryan asks. "I didn't see anyone else..." He says cautiously.
The woman is dressed in a baggy hoodie and sweats, but it's clear that she is tall, meeting him eye-to-eye and full figured. If it weren't for her smile, he was vaguely concerned she might pick him up and throw him out.
"No, no, it's great. I'm Natalie!" She bounds over to shake his hand. It's a firm grip and he returns it. She gives a quick look around him. "Is it just you or is your wife or girlfriend coming?"
"Nats!" There's a shout from the other side of the tapestry. "For god's sake."
"Shut your mouth, Sarah, I'm being friendly." She snaps back without a single ounce of venom.
Ryan laughs. "Hi, I'm Ryan, and it is just me, I'm afraid. This is my first year volunteering, so I figured to keep it simple." As he is talking, a second woman appears from behind the tapestry, a slender Korean woman with long black hair.
"Fun!" Natalie continues. "Well, we are Lost Raven Leatherworking. This is Sarah, I'm Natalie. My mom is floating around here somewhere. And welcome!"
"Thank you!" Ryan responds, stepping forward to shake Sarah's hand. Her touch is cool and her cheeks light up when he smiles at her. She's young, early twenties maybe, in jeans and a comfortable flannel, while Natalie is closer to his age.
"What are you going to be doing at the festival?" Sarah asks gently.
"Whatever they need me to do," Ryan says. "I can juggle, play the ukulele a bit, and tell a few jokes, so I think they had me as 'stage help' for one of the smaller stages, but I'll find out tomorrow morning."
He smiles and gives Natalie a playful wink. "You may not be able to tell, but I am actually one of Robin Hood's merry men, and am ready for whatever comes on the morrow."
Natalie grins, "A merry man? I like the sound of that. Well if you are up for it, come hang out at our fire tonight, we'd love the company."
"Thanks, I will." Ryan says. "Okay, I'm going to get set up..."
"Of course! Yeah, let us know if you need any help." And with that, Natalie retreats back to the other side of the tapestry, Sarah trailing behind.
"I told you he was cute, this might be your chance," Natalie says, a little too loudly over Sarah's protestations.
Ryan sighs, and heads back to the car to get the rest of his gear.
###
Setting up the campsite was relatively straight-forward. A standing tent that could comfortably fit eight looked obscene with just his portable futon mattress but it was worth the trouble. He topped it with a double wide sleeping bag - a leftover from his marriage, and a number of flickering electric tea lights for illumination.
Outside the tent, he set up a pop tent with his camping stove, ukulele and costume props. Finally, he hung two solar powered paper lanterns made up to look like jellyfish to hang from the trees.
By now, the sun was low on the horizon, bathing everyone in a golden glow, as Ryan retrieved his cheese, fruit and veggies from the cooler. A hobbit's dinner, Ryan noted with some pride. Wrapping it up with a green cloth, he hiked up the twenty minute walk to the top of the wooded ridge overlooking the renaissance fair site.
Located in rural Oregon, the festival is held in a broad valley nestled between two heavily wooded ridges. From here, Ryan can see the flashes of tents and tapestries woven in amongst the trees closest to him. In the meadow below, the organizers had erected a full village of booths, stages, arenas, even a grand entrance to look like a medieval castle. Flags bearing dragons, lions and flowers flap in the wind at the arena and he can faintly hear boisterous cries from the tavern set up near the arena. Behind the village, a thick slow creek meanders past and down towards the road at the entrance to the valley.
The only signs of modernity were the hundreds of cars parked in the flat grassy meadow near that road. Tilting his head, he could barely make out the sounds of the road but they were buried underneath the laughter and sounds of campers eating their dinner.
Yes, this is what I needed, Ryan takes a deep breath, soaking in the moment. To be free from the sadness, the fear, the stress, and the grind of the real world. To be transported to somewhere else. Somewhere free of that.
Wrapping up his leftovers, Ryan basked in the last rays of the setting sun for just a moment longer, feeling its warmth on his short cropped beard, and then headed back down into the woods.
###
As had become all too common, everywhere he turned, there were women. At the lineup for the porta potties, washing dishes at their campsites, playing games around their fires. And as he walked, he felt their eyes turn to him.
It was a feeling he had gotten used to over the last three years. At six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a salt-and-pepper beard, he is unmistakably male. And whether he liked it or not, simply interacting with others brought out lots of emotion.
Amongst other men, it ran the gamut. Sometimes it was palpable relief and camaraderie, especially when there was someone else his age. With only one in five men left, we weren't quite rare but certainly few and far between. Sometimes, especially the younger guys, puffed themselves up to show off but Ryan had always been mild in his demeanor and had long since left that sort of chest thumping behind. But those men were few. Mostly there was just a warm greeting, a kind smile to see other men alive and well after losing so many.
