Chapter 1 Home again

Chapter 1 Home again

A Story by Bruce58

This is a story of action, adventure, mystery with a mystical twist. Redid chapter 1. Tell me what you think? this story is up to chapter 5 now



Not at this time

 A Story by Bruce58        07-01-20010

    Chapter 1   I remember


                                                                                                                                       Eric slowed the car some, taking his foot off the gas down the last hill before the road leveled out. It was long straight and light gray, with the white line centered and rippled from ware of the tires traveling in and out. It was mid afternoon and he could see the trees ahead had grown together from one side to the other. The road was darker under the shade where no sun could get in. A straight tunnel of trees with a light at the other end. The only trimming was from the big trucks bringing supplies to the town below.

     Eric stopped just before this the end of this tunnel of trees. His car was now between sunlight and shade. He did not even bothering to pull over to the side of the road, as outsiders rarely visit this part of the country. The people that lived here rarely left to go anywhere. Eric was looking down a straight road leading into a narrow valley. Hills on both sides like a giant glazer had carved through the center leaving a valley about seven miles wide and long enough for a community to settle here. A green valley with trees on both sides, pastures cut into the sides like green manicured squares lots with trees and fences surrounding each one. Some with cows some for crops.

     He could just make out the tops and roofs of what was the town in the center below. Tin roofs panted green some silver with long smoke stacks sticking high above each roof reaching above the trees. Summer I love it here. The birds are flying high like dark moving specks against this light blue sky and big white clouds blocking any or all sunlight. The farms some dairy and some planting crops climbing up both sides of this green valley only to the dense dark tree line to steep for planting or grazing.

   Eric thought to himself. This is where I started and had grown up as far back as I can remember, a small dairy farm just on the other side of town but close enough to where I'm sitting that I think seeing one corner of my fathers fence might be possible. However, no, not this time of year.

    Mom called last week and said dad was missing and the community had tried to find him for three months now. No one in town could even pick up his trail and we all think he went off to pass. He loved his home, family and this valley so much he always said he was going to become part of it and did just that. You remember he would say, When It's my time to leave, I'm just going, but will always be here. 

      Looking down at the half lit seat of the car and in the passenger seat is my son Alex, 12 years old, asleep from the long drive from New York City to my hometown in up state New York. He is curled up with the seat belt aiming downward across his chest disappearing under the front side of his stomach with his head resting atop of the armrest using it as a pillow and thinking what kind of adventures he was going to get into. All new and different from the big city type adventures that he has already had.

     My wife Debbie had stayed behind to try and sell the condo we owned and lived in. A crowd of condos in the middle of the city surrendered by millions of people living in there own condos and apartments reaching as high in the sky as they can possibly get.

    Will Debbie like it here? I'm not sure, she had visited with me on the holidays but now she and I had to quit the jobs of thirteen years. We will have and live a somewhat quiet life, no going out to a barrage of restaurants and entertainment. All just within an arms reach and around any corner you want. Even to go across town. All you had to do is hale a taxi. However, Mom needs me to run the farm and that night I told Debbie. I was not sure how she would reacted, but in a low voice she said yes I'll try it , but if I can't do it or make it work I'm going! Do you understand? Will you let me go? I understand you have obligations and so do I. Nevertheless, it is to Alex first. Go and get things ready. Take Alex with you so he can adjust to that way of life and I will be there when I can. I did not know what to say, but I knew she was right and was not sure how things would be in the middle of nowhere for her.

    Mom had told me that Dad stayed up every night writing his story and the way his life was. She said he was writing everything he had done in his life, my life, your life EVERYTHING! Not getting the work he needed to get done here and then he goes out in the field and recites it like he wants to remember every word. I need you here to get this farm up and running again and go find him Please! Please find him, he’s out there. Please find him and bring him home to me so I can take care of him. He needs me! I need him! Please find him for me.

    Eric was sitting in the car, looking out over the town he grew up. He mentioned the town name to others outside this community and little had even heard of the name Maymore New York. However, I remember. I started here. Eric was still sitting in middle of the road thinking of his past.

     "Eric" Mom call out in the fields looking for me, yelling that supper was ready and I had better get home to eat               

   “Glen”. Moms calling me, so I guess I have to leave now, but I will be right back. Glen was standing next to Eric in Eric’s field up against the fence facing Glen’s house. Eric’s father had just burnt the weeds off all the fence so the wires would not rust when winter arrives keeping them wet. Eric was telling Glen. Glen was saying what a good job he had done, and his father would help after the new barn was up.

    Glen’s family had just bought the Wilson’s farm next door, and that old barn was ready to fall down. Eric would go in there just to kick out those old rotted walls and spy on whatever I could. However, mom and dad wanted me to stay out of there. They would say “ERIC!” Stay out of there. Those old walls are full of termites and will fall on you head someday. Ya OK but I have no one to mess around with. Eric would say. Stay out of there! My parents would say louder.

    Then one day Eric saw a big blue truck pull in front the old Wilson house and five minutes later a car. There were two people sitting in the front seat and a dark head sitting in the back. The man opened his door with a loud squeak. I was thinking that dad’s door does that to in his old ford truck. However, this was not an old looking car, and dad always drives pickup trucks. The man from the car walked up to the big truck and started talking to someone inside. Two big men in the truck opened there door, jumping to the ground and walked to the back opening the two big doors. One grabbing hold of a ramp just under the center, pulling it out and letting it drop to the ground with a loud bang! 

    We walked over to see if there was anything we could do to help, but the man from the car just said “no.” But, my wife and son could us a drink of water if it's not too much trouble. We have driven a long way today and I think the heat today is getting to them. Eric was thinking it was hot today. However, it’s summer and should be. I wanted to walk to the car and see if his son could be around my age, but mom told me to stay where I was. “Do you want me to get two glasses of water mom?” Eric said. “Yes, that would be nice but you better make it three.” I went to get the water from my house. I was thinking if I could give it to them, I would meet there son that sat quietly in the back seat of the car.

                                                                                Eric, not wanting to look like I was in a hurry walked towards the house. He opened the old screen door. He could hear the spring stretching as he pulled the handle. Eric’s father had just put the new handle on. The one that was there was home made from an old bolt found in the barn. It was rusting, leaving an orange tint on your hand, and mom kept yelling, “Don't touch anything until you wash your hands”.

    As I walked into the house, I noticed one of the pictures hanging on the wall was tilted a little. It was hanging on a paneled wall dad and I installed about five years ago. Light brown, with dark lines running from ceiling to the hardwood floor. Mom would wax it once a week. telling dad and I, not to where muddy boots and get her floor dirty. The foyer was small, dark with carpeted stairs to the right. They went up reaching a carpeted hall and two bedrooms where we slept at night, or if one was not feeling well. I walked past the living room on my left with old furniture my mother and father got from there parents or yard sales around town on every Saturday, with a patterned rug in the middle.

    The hall leading to the kitchen was narrow, also paneled and a light bulb hanging in the center of the ceiling from two wires. The ceiling was white cracked plaster. Dad told mom he would someday get a real light up there someday and fix all troughs cracks. But for now, it is what it is. Straight down the hall was the kitchen door. Bright with sunrays shining threw. I can see a shinny linoleum floor where the hardwood ends and the kitchen floor starts.

     And what a kitchen it was. The larges room in the house. This is where we spend most are time when were home. There is a large table in the middle. It’s made from old planks dad had found in the barn. A light is hanging from a chain the middle of the table.              It’s a large domed lamp with crystals all around the bottom, with a farm scene panted on the dome. The cabinets were metal panted white and would make a lot of noise. When you opened a drawer it sounded like a scratching noise metal on metal with a white stained sink in the middle and two knobs for the hot and cold water.

    I reached up to open the cabinet door where the glasses were and with a click from the snap holding the door closed. I got out three glasses and filled them with water from the sink.

   I returned holding the three glasses in a triangle with both hands surrounding them. As I was walking in the direction of the car, the new neighbor’s wife opened her door and got out. She was thin, tall with long black hair, standing there looking right at me. As I walked towards her she opened the back door of the car to let her son out. Alright same height as me! This was really great to have someone to do things with. Hi my name is Glen. Who are you? Eric as if I owned the place. Want some water? I said

     Glen’s parents had bought the old Wilson's farm. The Wilson's were older then mom and dad; with there son was in collage. So there was no one to do anything on the farm with to help Mr. Wilson. There old farm house has white clapboards with a lot of brown spots where the paint was peeling off.  The front door window has a crack in it. When Eric was throwing rocks at the crows flying in the front yard, the rock bounced once on the front porch and crack, hit the window. That was last month and he had never told anyone. Eric was glad the Wilson’s sold there house. They're older and my father had been saying. “Mister Wilson is getting to old to run that farm. His cow number has gone down. Everything is falling to the ground and he needs to retire!” Nevertheless, Mrs. Wilson loves it here, and said, she’s is not leaving her home. We could here her all the way from there house. Across the lawns and in though the kitchen window that faced there house. She finally agreed, when the lawn was up to there knees, and the pasture had weeded out from lack of cows to keep it down.

    (Mr. and Mrs. Rugner.) Glen’s parents were sitting down for lunch one day, just a month ago. They were in a diner close to there house in Washington New Jersey. They were talking about how they wanted to live in a town with less people. It just happened that Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were sitting in the booth right behind them and could here ever word they were saying. Mr. Wilson got up and started telling them about his farm. How it was not doing well because of his age. That they were going to North Carolina to live with his younger brother. He started telling them about the small the town of Maymore. Then told them it did not have many people living there and was very small. But had a lot of history and everyone knows your name. Mr. Wilson said. “My farm is small, and the barn needs a lot of work. The house needs work too, but stands strong and will be there for another thousand years. Its thirty five acres with wire fencing all around built for dairy farming. It has all the equipment you need to start your very own farm in the barn.” Adding, “It has all you need.”

    Mr. Rugner spoke of how he and his wife had talked about buying a small farm in the past, but did not know how they could afford it. “I’ll let it go cheep.” Mr. Wilson said. However, you have to promises me one thing. My wife and I have burial plots in Maymore. In addition, would like it if you would make sure we end up there. Mr. Rugner said. “OK: but we need to look at it and see if we really like the area. We rent a house now and it would be easy for us to pack and go and start somewhere else.” Mr. Wilson smiled looking over to Mrs. Wilson: saying how this would be perfect. “Do you have a family?” Mrs. Wilson asked. “Yes, we have a son Glen. He’s twelve years old.” Mrs. Wilson looked towards Mr. Wilson and said. “Perfect”. Mr. Wilson just nodded a yes. He then looked down at the hamburger the waitress had placed in front of him. Not saying another word. Mr. Wilson sat down to eat his meal.

    When Mr. and Mrs. Wilson finished had there meal. Mr. Wilson said. “Here let me draw a map. It’s hard to find on any map. The only people that go there are drivers with trucks. They bring supplies to town. In addition to the dairy drivers picking up the milk once a day. Mr. Rugner said “OK once again.” So they all sat down together eating lunch, while Mr. Wilson described the town and people that lived there.      

    Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had finished lunch and were getting up to leave the table. He gave them the phone number of his brother’s house, where he and his wife would be the next day. Mr. Wilson said. “Go there, look, and then give me a call. The house is unlocked so you can go right in.” Then they walked out hand in hand, leaving the restaurant. Getting in there car to leave for the long trip to his brothers.

    Mrs. Rugner made the comment. “Can this be true?” They didn’t even lock the door on there way out. A small town, just what we have been looking for to starting a farm. Did he write the price down on that paper? “Yes.” We can afford it as long as the barn doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.” I can take off work tomorrow. It’ll take about four hours to get there, from what I see written down. If work fires me. “Well I did not like that job anyway!” Mr. Rugner said.

        It was Sunday morning when the Rugner’s arrived in Maymore. Living in a small community, most went to church to pray for a better life after they leave this world. The church was a tall white building with doors reaching what looked like half way to the roof. It had very steep silver roof with the chimney of brick rising high above the roofline towards the back. With an open steeple in the middle. It sat high above the point of that silver roof, above the doors with a large golden bell inside.

  The doors were open when the Rugner's drove past. They could see the people standing, lined up between pews and the colored reflections from the windows on the sunny side of the church. They were singing high, loud and it was the most beautiful sound Mrs. Rugner had ever heard.

    “Oh look, there's a small store on that corner. Would you mind if we went in to get a drink, and talk about this town we might be living in.” Mrs. Rugner asked. Mr. Rugner turning his head to see the store said "Sure why not it might be interesting.”

    They pulled up to the front door of a well-maintained rock building. It was not as big as the church. Nevertheless, large enough to hold everything needed for the communities needs. “The sign said Sam's grocery and things.” The Rugner’s were walking up the plank steeps leading to the front door. When Mrs. Rugner stopped and commented that it was odd, there were no windows in the front of the store. She then said that maybe the sides or rear had some. Walking in, there were shelves filed to the ceiling with food, flashlights, batteries, dog food even paper products. Everything the owner could possibly fit in the store. However, no windows anywhere sides or back.  Behind a large counter was a tall man. He looked about forty, with a smile from ear to ear and only one customer inside. The customer was not using a shopping cart like the ones parked to the right, when you first walk in the store. But a big wheel barrel. The customer a short old man with long dirty hair and a long beard. His cloths had to be from the last century and wearing muddy boots.

   “Hi my names Sam how can I help you?”  The man behind the counter was looking right at the Rugner’s now, with his hands planted down on the counter. “We came in to get something to drink. Do you have a refrigerator?” Mr. Rugner asked. Sam said, “Yes to the back of the store. When you find what you want. Bring here and I will ring you up.”  We thanked him and went on are way down one of the two rows with shelves stocked to the max. 

   The Rugner’s found what they wanted, and returned to the front of the store. Sam was writing down everything the old man had in his wheel barrel. We could here the old man talking but could not understand a he was saying. He was talking to himself as if no one was in the room with him.  “OK Widsith I think I have everything written down. I'll see you next month.”  And at that, the man not looking at us or Sam, pushed his supplies out the front door, and down the stairs. We could here the wheel thumping one step at a time until he hit the bottom and just wheeled away. “Now you must be the Rugner's. We heard Mr. Wilson called someone in town, and said you might be coming to look at there place. How can I help you?” Sam asked.  Mr. Rugner was watching Sam write the totals on the paper of supplies Widsith had just picked up and left with. He stuck a piece of tape on the paper, and placed it on the center of the front door. Therefore, if everyone who shows up there would see it. As Sam walked past them to his position behind the counter, Mrs. Rugner said.  “Can you give us information about this town?”

    Now Sam was looking right at them and said.  “Yes, let me tell you about this store first.” He then said.  “I bought it about five years ago from the Johnson family. There son Rusty, the owner then had just died in a farming accident helping his father on there family dairy farm. I was looking to settle down in a small community, when and this place came up and it was too good to pass up so I bought it.”  The Johnson’s had told me it was as old as the town, and had been a community center at one time, where the people would meet together to discuss important issues of there day. No one knows how long ago that was. All they said was when that old man comes into my store every thirty days, to give him what ever he needs. Place the supplies with price on the front door, and the money will be in the small box next to the front door the next day.”

    “Do you have any children?” Asking Sam. “Yes;” Mrs. Rugner said. “His name is Glen. He’s twelve years old so we of course need to know about the schools here.”  Sam told them about how there was only one school. From first to the twelfth grades. Sam said it was a small community, and not enough people living here for another. However, it had some of the most modern books to teach with, and the library has some of the oldest books in the country.  “Twelve that’s the same age as Eric.” Sam saying now.  “The Johnson’s kid next door to the Wilson’s farm is twelve also. “ That’s great! Hopefully they get along.”  Sam added.

    “Next door is the museum. We had it built a couple of years ago. There was so much stuff scattered around town. We wanted to put it all in one place. Everyone in town had something to contribute. They ether had something in there basements; barns or they were still using it. It’s a vary interesting place and you need to take Glen there when you go.”  Sam was telling the Rugner’s other things like the gas station, ice cream stand, church and farm supply store you passed on your way in.” “The park next door between me and the church is very nice to sit. With a pond in the middle, and an old what we think is a civil war canon left in the eighteen hundreds. From what I know they left it there in that spot so the town built a park around it.”

    Now, that will be a dollar thirty for the two drinks. The Wilson farm is to the right on Sif Street just down the road on the left. In the direction you’re already going. It’s the two story farm house, panted white with the roof over the front porch. The barn needs replacing. If you are getting rid of it, we love doing what we call a good old barn raising. You can order the supplies from Hank the owner of the farming store. Mr. Rugner handed him the money. Thanked him then walked out and down the planked stairs to the car. The Rugner’s were looking at the park and the old cannon. Thinking that maybe it was too big and heavy for them to get out of this valley so they left it. Mrs. Rugner commented how nice the park looked. Trees covering picnic tables and a park bench in front of the pond. “That is very odd.”  Mrs. Rugner questioned. The pond has manicured grass growing into the water. It was trimmed and disappearing under the water, wondering if it rains here a lot.

    The Rugner’s found Sif Street just where Sam had said it was. There were farms, one right after another. Trees were surrounding farmhouses, closest to the road with barns in back.  “There it is.”  Mrs. Rugner said. “It’s nice.”  She then said.  Walking up to the front door, they noticed it needed paint and a new front door window. The Rugner’s opened the front door and the first thing they noticed, was how old the house was. However, it had dust everywhere. In addition, was musty smelling? The plaster walls had not cracked and the floors were solid oak, as sturdy as the day’s past. There was a small living room to the left and stairs to the right. The stairs had an oak banister leading up to the two bedrooms upstairs. Straight was the kitchen. Mrs. Rugner made the comment “this will do” needs some work but a little paint and if the stove works I think I make this work.

    “You go out to the barn.” She said.  “See if that will work and remember what Sam had said about a good old barn raising.”  When Mr. Rugner walked into the barn, there was a good amount of farm supplies and equipment left. However, the barn had to go. The wood was rotten and had holes in the walls everywhere looking out. Mr. Rugner looked over the equipment and supplies. “Thinking this will work.”  Walking back into the house threw a back door. Mr. Rugner found his wife retuning from the upstairs. She had a big smile on her face, so he knew she like it.  “He asked if she liked it.”  She told him about the upper part of the house. Then gave him a hug, whispering no I love it! “How was the barn?”  Workable he said. Good lets find the realtor and get this going.

    That’s all she had to say.


© 2010 Bruce58

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Added on July 18, 2010
Last Updated on August 12, 2010
Tags: story, adventure, mystery, potter, magic



just want to write. I have a story and want it out. Rewrote chapter 1. Tell me what you think more..

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A Story by Bruce58