- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
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- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, Sci fi, Romance, Historical, Modern, Supernatural
Road to Spring...
...turn left at the fern
Chapter 1: Back to Their Roots
“I thought I heard some noise headed up this way. Well! How do you do, neighbor?”
A glossy veneer too big for his mouth. Eyes bright and brown and attentive, as arresting as they were intent. The gray caterpillars perched above moved in exaggerated fashion, twisting this way and that in tandem with the animation of his weathered hands. The sputtering rumble of his old truck’s engine spilled a noisy hum into the silence. In the span of a moment, the owner rolled the passenger window further, peering at his discovery.
The old man in the truck had stumbled upon more than he’d realized. Not much went escaped in his village. At just over one hundred residents, Spring Fern Valley was the very definition of a small town. Aptly named for the wide mountain valley it lay nestled in, thick forest foliage and soil-rich crop fields dominated much of the town’s area. Here the night’s canopy was a canvass of stars, and the man-made thrum of city noise had been replaced with the quiet gurgling of creeks and the chipper songs of birds. Concrete jungles were no more. Instead sat resident’s homes and farms comfortably hugged by trees. To each man was his own land. And to have any sort of disruption, distraction to this idyllic serenity certainly…
Well. News tended to travel like wildfire in their tiny community.
Strange that he’d missed the moving truck, then. Or that anyone else would, for that matter. Only two streets led out of Spring Fern Valley. The rest was tractor-rolled dirt roads, and he doubted any sane man would hike a truck of that size up those paths. Granny Fay liked to sit on her porch and watch comings and goings during the day, but it was about six pm. Not much sunlight left; maybe she’d gone in for a nap?
Well. No point in doing all this sleuthing for no reason. The old man chuckled to himself a bit.
“Need a hand, miss?”
“No. Thanks.”
First impressions were everything. He’d heard from Mayor Caughlin that a city-dweller was coming from miles and miles away to take over Mr. Angus Clyde’s farm. It was an old, dilapidated estate. Angus - bless his heart - had done the best he could to keep the large farmhouse in good form, but old age and debts had eventually gotten the best of him. First he’d sold the animals. Then his car. Had he sold the tractors and the farming equipment, and most farmers would have considered the property a price-gouging waste of money. Beyond saving. A damn shame, too - Clyde’s farm had the best mill and greenhouse in the town. Had he more money and more time, and he would have considered buying it himself.
To hear it had fallen in the hands of an inexperienced city girl was...He hadn’t believed it. Almost thought his old friend was playing a good trick on him - payback for beating the tar out of him at Texas Hold ‘Em. But as he stared at the stranger and her distrustful eyes and the peculiar, flashy style she wore, he found his eyes quickly drawn lower, panning down until they reached her feet. He blinked.
Heels. Tall, ruby red heels. They sank into the dirt as the woman hefted a box into her arms, and the old man watched them shoot back out only to sink again as the woman struggled to catch a good grip.
Bless her heart.
“Where’s your moving men?” Despite her answer, the farmer was out of his truck already, hustling to grab the other side.
“Don’t have any,” The woman grunted, and the old man looked at her strangely. She was younger than he realized; far younger than he would have figured for someone moving out there on their own. Just a kid, really. His heart softened, and he took the full weight of the box out of her hands, huffing a bit.
“Tell you what. Let me call my grandson Jack to come give us a hand. We can get this stuff in before it gets dark out, eh?”
“It’s fine -”
“It’ll be quick. We stay just down the road,” He assured her. As her face frowned, he pulled out his cell phone, jabbing in the numbers. The old man pressed the phone to his ears as he waited. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her cross her arms and frown off to the side, looking much fairly lost, and he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.
Just a kid, this one. He shook his head ruefully.
She’d be the talk of the town in no time.