|Falling Trees. A different sort of love story. The domain of the Wood Witch. (standard:fantasy, 5868 words)|
|Author: Oscar A Rat||Added: Jun 30 2020||Views/Reads: 284/186||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Deep in the Maine woods sits a small town of around five-thousand individuals.It doesn't particularly welcome strangers -- especially tourists or people different from the normal, especially witches..|
Deep in the Maine woods sits a small town of around five-thousand individuals. Somewhat of a closed community, it doesn't particularly welcome strangers -- especially tourists. Local families have, in most part, been there over a half-dozen generations. If you or I would move in, we'd be accepted but not included in the intricacies of a complex social network where your status might be determined by your great-grandparent's actions. John and Margie Evans were finding that out. John, a retired accountant, ignored village politics, being more interested in a lifelong dream of a quiet retirement deep in rural America. To that end, they had spent their savings on a fifty-acre tract several miles outside of town. Their dream culminated in a large six-room log cabin found deep inside their new property. It was a fairly isolated patch of overgrown forest that for some reason locals had allowed to return to nature, alone amid miles of wheat and corn fields. On initial inspection, in the company of a land agent, John had found the remains of various homes, overgrown with mature trees and vines at one corner of his property, along with one half-acre of cleared space containing deep square holes, half-caved in. “This used to be an archaeological dig,” Mr Twinker from the realty company told him. “Don't worry, they finished long ago and aren't interested any longer. It's not classed as a historical site and you're free to do with it as you wish.” The large modern log cabin seemed to be a recent addition, set in a cleared space among otherwise primeval nature. The realty company had made needed repairs and connected some of the utilities such as electricity and even city water, though they were to still use a septic tank left by the last owners. It had been inspected and judged as functional. In other terms, an inside toilet. A moving van had managed to traverse a driveway of packed dirt covered by stone and had left for a long trip back to the city. The last of the day before and present morning had been spent in moving furniture around and making lists of needed supplies. Finally, though, the couple had free time to study the outside of their new home. “I tried out the beauty parlor in town,” Margie said, relaxing in a lawn chair on the back porch while listening to birds chirping in nearby trees. “They were friendly enough but not being included in casual talk was annoying. One lady talked about her chocolate chip cookie recipe. When I tried to give advice about using real butter instead of oleo, I was ignored. Simply ignored.” “It takes time, dear. Remember, you're not back home. We have to make new friends here.” She sighed. “I know. But at least they could have nodded at me. I was simply ignored.” “The same with me at the hardware store. When I approached the counter, there were three guys talking. They didn't make room for me, just let me stand for minutes before the clerk deigned to notice.” The two sat in silence for a minute, lost in their own thoughts. “We'll need to plow this yard up and reseed it with real grass,” John observed. “That may be a problem. Who knows how deep those roots are?” "And some of the oldest trees are falling down, honey.” Margie observed. “Especially that big one behind the house. Someday, mark my words, a storm will bring it crashing down on our roof," Margie told her husband, pointing at a huge elm seen from the porch. The tree, fifty or sixty feet high and ten-feet thick at the base, was leaning dangerously toward their home. He and wife had chosen the place at least partially because it was so isolated. It stood in a cleared space in the middle of a small forest. Click here to read the rest of this story (656 more lines)
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