KEWL
Someone asked for a less "Stupid and Immature Story"
So... Here's some fancy story...
YEAH I KNOW WHO YOU ARE (Not saying names...)
And as always!
Enjoy!
Man! Nothing does beat the country side!
I looked across the river that flowed through my two acres of land that my parents had left me. The soft trickling water soothing my soul, as the sound of the wind crackled in my ears in harmony with the swaying barley in the field. The morning was the best time to work, as the air was cool and the sun wasn't that bright. It was a rule all labor workers knew.
"Hey! Anyone home?" a voice cried out from behind me, most likely coming from the front door.
As I walked to the door, another flurry of knocks to the tune of 'Shave & a Haircut' caused me to quicken my pace. I opened the door to see Mr. Leavy, a customer of mine that usually only came for the wheat, yeast, and barley I grew. He stood a couple inches below me, about 5' 6". His muscular build accentuating the groomed beard he had growing off his chiseled chin. He always had lidded eyes, seemingly creating a concoction of emotions nobody could read.
Your average stereotypical lumberjack model.
The only thing was that he brewed beer, made bread, and made barley snacks for the Tavern back in town. It was a small town, but the large tavern always seemed to fill up with women, men, and travelers alike.
"Hey Vincent! Looking fine!" The usual line he said before he would get serious or try to force a bargain onto me.
"Here's the deal boy, the harvest festival is coming. So I want to buy all your stock available, and I'll pay you 6 dollars per pound of yeast, 10 for barley, and 50 cents for whe-"
Stupid. He thinks I'm stupid. He's pulled this shit for almost 8 years. Never will he ever rip me off AGAIN.
We were walking towards the yeast cultivation room until I stopped in my tracks to interrupt him.
"Stop right there Mr. Leavy. If you increase the price of wheat to 2 dollars, I'll lower the price for barley to below market price, 7 dollars."
The man inquisitively stroked his beard, seemingly catching that I had a low stock of wheat and I high stock of barley. He looked into the yeast room we were standing in front of and nodded to himself.
"How much barley do you have?"
"Not Including the harvest, about 75 bushels of barley, 25 of wheat."
"Hmm... I'll only need 50 bushels of barley, so I'll buy at market value of 8, and the wheat, I'll take all of it at a reduced price. Maybe 1.50."
"I'll have about 85 bushels. By the end of the week."
"Okay, to confirm. 6 for yeast, 8 for barley, 1.50 for wheat."
"Make the wheat 1.75."
"1.50 is the highest I'll go."
I want to make a profit so...
"I'll drop the yeast to half of what it is, AND I'll take your 1.50 on the wheat. BUT! I receive 10 percent of your revenue that you get with my ingredients."
"Make it 2 percent, and you've got yourself a deal."
I nodded my head as to agree with the man, sticking out my hand for the usual handshake. he mirrored me almost immediately after noticing what I was going for and shook lightly yet with a firm grip.
"Damn, what a shrewd business man. You'll grow grey hair at the age of 17... Before me even."
"Pfft. As if."
I filled out the receipt that he would need to sign, making small notes to ensure my 2% would be calculated. He scanned it over still impressed by my skills, and signed it without a doubt. He was happy with the rates on the receipt, with approximate amounts behind wheat and yeast, the processing cost for the wheat, and the 50 bushels of barley.
"You think that I'm losing money from this ordeal, but in reality I'm only paying the 2% thing. My sponsor is paying for this stuff. I'll have them send over the trucks next week, 5 days before the festival. You coming to the festival?"
I shook my head as I seemingly shooed him off, watching his old battered car drive onto the dirt road. I turned to hang up the receipt next to the other orders I had, remembering that I had other orders to fulfill.
Recollection to 8:00 PM
Today was a long day.
After meeting with Mr. Leavie, I met with two other customers and got paid for my stocks of wheat. They both had questioned why I hadn't signed a deal with a corporation, but I knew that if you signed with them, you gained little to no pay. Immediately after, I went to harvesting everything that was ready before the sun came out. Everything on my farm was handpicked, as they were to delicate and pure to be corrupted by a harvester machine.
About a couple of hours had past into the afternoon before I was done with all the cultivation and decided to bike to the butchers a mile down the road west. A good ol' beef skirt cut and it was all good. Beef katsu for dinner (don't judge me, I'm an Asian kid in the West), with home made batter and breading. The hygienic stuff was like a normal person's routine, so there was nothing to recollect there except for the one thought that ran through my head while showering.
Damn. Making money. Feels good don't it.
I soon found my self walking, looking at the flower bed growing by my deck facing the fields. The orchids were placed on the stone as to prevent their invasive nature from killing the baby's breaths and tulips.
Seems like its a good time to sleep, for it's about 8.
I pulled out my comforter and my blank body pillow, and fell asleep on my deck, the wind blowing through my wet hair as if it were nature's hand was petting me.
Darkness... Consumes ALL...
What in the fuck.
I stood up to meet a tornado tearing through my crops.
"MY BABIES!"
I ran towards the localized winds as I tried to save my prized wheat from getting destroyed. As I harvested as quickly as I could, I felt an unnerving presence breathing down my shoulder. All the blood drained from my face, seemingly spilling from my shoulders, the only way I could describe how I felt. My arms started to fail me as I recalled when I had first planted this field.
0-0-0-0-0
"Vincent! Where are you"
A giggling child ran to his mom as she planted the wheat, as her husband discussed how to maintain soil quality.
"Hi Mommy!"
"Hi son! Come, watch as mommy plants these plants."
"What is that?"
"Wheat, it's in your baked goods, fried foods, and in pasta. It's a super cool plant, and we'll be able to make food for free!"
"Yay! Does that mean tomorrow, you'll use this wheat to make my birthday cake?"
"No, but next year we can."
"I'll help with next years birthday by helping you then!"
The almost 10 year old child stretched out his palms to receive the seeds, but was met with a stern look from his dad.
"No son, instead, you can help me with the flowers and yeast."
For the rest of the day they planted flowers and made vials for yeast cultivation. Until it came night. The child laid awake, seemingly unable to sleep because he wanted to see the plants growing. He walked out to see his dad whispering to someone.
"Please... I'll make up the money next year, could you just wai-"
"I can't wait. You're in debt to us and we demand money RIGHT NOW."
The man speaking stood up and pulled a gun to his fathers head as his wife screamed in horror.
He immediately turned the barrel of the revolver and blew her brains out, splattering all over the upholstery behind her. The sound of the gun so close made his ear ring, and was too shocked to move. The only thing he could do was cry as the same happened to his father, but this time the blood was splatted all over him. The child simply shook. He watched as red stained the new furniture, floor, and most importantly: the flowers.
"Let's go."
The men seemingly seemed to not notice the quivering child as he got in his black Pontiac Ventura and darted off on the dirt road. The child crawled, unspeaking as he tried to clean the blood off the faces of his parents, but couldn't. His hands were now a brilliant shining crimson... Burying them would more or less be a hassle.
As the night ran to dawn, his parents were now buried in the nearby woods inside of their land, and the blood just being cleaned up by the now scarred now 10 year old.
0-0-0-0-0
He wanted to cry again. He couldn't save the farm that his parents gave to him before they died. As a matter of fact, nobody noticed that his parents died, for they met him when he was alone.
Alone.
Something he wanted to be and not to be at the same time. He wanted a hug, yet didn't want them to see him like this. It seemed like neither was the case as the daunting presence seemed to grab hold onto him before he was thrown across to the deck over 20 meters away.
"Mommy..."
He could only look as his blood spilled over the used to be white flowers, the pain from his broken bones being the only thing keeping him from closing his eyes. Then. Nothing.
Darkness...
I woke up panting and sweating as if I had ran 10 miles without stop. Looking at the flowers, they were deemed unharmed as I decided to walk over to the woods where my parents were buried. But that was not before showering off the sweat and getting new clothes. I put the sleep amenities in a nearby shelf, all the while talking to myself of how it was just a nightmare. Then I started walking. Turning to face the tombstone, I wanted to comment but couldn't from how shaken up I was.
Still beautiful.
A symphony of mosses, vines, and flowers inhabited the clumsily made tombstone with a now barely visible 'MOM' and 'DAD' inscribed onto its stone face.
That was until the presence I felt in my nightmare grabbed me.
Oh shit. Wha-
I was pulled as my vision turned into an explosion of color. I started to free fall through colorful renditions of my memories until I stopped at one. It was the day my parents died.
Destruction.
The word rung with a twisted maturity behind it as I found myself viewing the night from the ceiling fan as I saw the young me get showered with blood. Then, it started to mirror itself on all three axes of the 3 dimensions until it turned a nice crimson. I felt as if I was launched into hyper drive toward a wall as I was lurched forward then stopped abruptly at a plain old mirror.
Despair.
The 5'10" male with silver hair, and light blue eyes looked into my soul. It was crying while it did, it's semi-muscular build and slumped shoulders heaving with every breath it took. Then it turned to walk away, leaving me to look into an empty mirror. I then felt as if I was back-flipping through the air until my back met with the cobbled path way.
Death.
And I saw a figure engulfed me into a pure black. The same voice now seemed to echo around me like surround sound, but the voice was now directing its intentions toward me.
"These three things keep the world turning. No matter how you look at it, it inspires the need for advancement and fear of the past. That is why I exist. But it seems a certain world can't wrap their head around it and decided to live in peace in a world of hate, segregation, and pride. Unfortunately, your soul must leave this world for now. Any worries you have in this world are now on hold as time stops until it is viewed. That is the epitome of the Theory of Relativity. Now... wake up and begin to shape this world to a better tomorrow."
After the monologue, I found myself laying in the shade of a tree, wind blowing at a desirable speed for trade winds.
Trade winds?
I opened my eyes to meet the edge of the cliff which shared a space with the roots of the tree. I looked around another time and realized everything was blocky. And then I realized it was a game I hadn't played since I was 9.
Minecraft.
I know it was a bit of a short chapter, but I hope you've enjoyed a different genre from me.
It's a bit cleaner in its execution, so it's perfect for normies.
Oh.
I'll see you next time!
And as always:
Ciao!
