Year One, Spring

Day 1:

Man oh man is my Grandpa Howard's farm a mess. Weeds growing everywhere, tree stumps (and this is where I start wondering just WHAT Grandpa Howard grew, and why only a few stumps are left), rocks the size of my head or, hell, even bigger rocks scattered everywhere…! The barn's a mess, the chicken coop (at least, I assume it's a chicken coop… For all I know it could be the threshing barn) is falling down, and his house is a little one room shack. There's an out house for when you have to, you know, go.

And Grandpa Howard lived here? As they say in the city, Jesus…!

So, there I am, staring at the ruin of what I'm told was a pretty good farm, wondering why in Hell it was willed to me. Grandpa Howard must've had one weird sense of humor, since I never even met him before. Well, that I can remember.

Grandpa Howard is- was- actually my great-uncle on my mom's side. From what I heard, he was a generous man, never married, never had kids, so he doted on his nieces and nephews. Probably hoped one of them would decide Farming Was For Him (or her, but Grandpa Howard grew up in the Women Don't Vote era, so… Yeah). Unfortunately, it didn't end up that way. My uncles are all in business, and my mom and aunts all work together to run one clothing store. It does pretty good business, too.

So, Grandpa Howard kept on with the farm, doing… whatever it is you do on a farm while his nieces and nephews went off and had kids. By that point, Grandpa Howard was pretty old, so he must have just written my name into the will…

But what am I going to do with this place? The only people that would buy it are condo builders or something. No one else would be crazy enough to take it over, right?

Of course, there was that thing what's his name, the mayor of this town (is it big enough to have a mayor? Well, that's what he called himself. Going to have to think on that one) suggested…

So, yeah. Journals are supposed to be a recounting of your day, down to the last memorable detail. Fine, whatever, I guess I'd better start at the beginning, then.

And when I figure out how to get out of this stupid… plan… Argh…

So, yeah, I took a bus down to this place called, and I'm not joking here, Forget-me-not Valley. One day I'm going to find this journal, probably in the back of my closet, take a look through, and laugh. Forget-me-not Valley? That's one Hell of a joke, I tell you… Anyways, so, bus, then a long walk down the road to get to the farm.

So I'm standing there, kind of boggling at the amount of mess, when someone clears their throat behind me. Now, I hadn't been expecting that, hadn't heard anyone coming up behind me, so I… Why do journals have to be honest again? Oh, yeah, 'cause I'm the only one who'll ever read it and DAMN that therapist for making sense… Right, where was I? … Crazy mayor, right.

So, I didn't expect anyone to actually be standing right behind me, so I screamed, spun around, and fell back.

This guy who looked like he had a tomato for a head- and a body for that matter- looked down at me.

"And who are you? Don't you know this is private property?" he asked.

I stammered something, got up, and found myself towering over who I was privately thinking of as 'Tomato-man, the creature from the farm the world forgot'. Or something like that, anyways. I'm kind of used to towering over people. Tall and skinny, that's me. But anyways.

"I got left this farm by my Grandpa," I said, which must've thrown Tomato-man for a loop. Grandpa Howard, as I've said, was never married and never had kids. But I didn't feel like explaining the whole fiasco family history thing.

"You're Cayor Little?" Tomato-man asked, after a long pause.

I hate, hate, HATE my name! Hate it! First name- my parents had a scrabble set. They couldn't agree on a name, so they decided to pick out five letters and make a name from that. I was almost named Yaroc or something. And my last name- well, I'm not little. I was taller then anyone in my class, every year. The teasing was awful, at least until we learnt basketball.

And why did I just write all that down? I know it all, damn it. This is my journal, this is… Right, it doesn't matter what I write, I'm the only one who'll ever read it…

So, Tomato-man asked my name. After a moment to fume about how my parents and the universe hated me, I nodded. Yes, yes I am Cayor Little. (Why can't the ground ever open up and swallow me, like I want? Anyone got an answer? Anyone?)

"I'm Mayor Thomas," he said. THAT'S his name! Thomas!

I shook his hand, then we both looked out over the farm in silence. For all of one minute.

"It's a bit of a mess," he said.

Well, duh.

"Yeah. Not sure what I'm going to do with it," I said. "I could clean it up and sell it."

"There's an idea," Thomas said, grinning. It just made him look more like a tomato then ever. "Though… Do you have enough money?"

Did I have enough money? I thought about it- I had seven hundred dollars in savings, at least a hundred on me, for the trip. I shrugged.

"I think so. Why?"

The Mayor rubbed his chin. He actually rubbed his chin. And here I'd been of the opinion that people only did that in bad movies or equally bad books. "Your Grandfather rented out most of his fields to his neighbor, so you'll have some money coming in that way. Enough to pay the taxes while you're waiting to sell, anyways."

I blinked. Figured that what I saw wasn't all of it. "Okay, and?"

The Mayor explained for most of an hour. To paraphrase: a working farm will go for more then one that's just been cleaned up. All I'd have to do is grow some vegetables, have a couple chickens, ducks, a really small herd of sheep and cows, and I'd be able to charge maybe triple the asking price. And I could live off whatever profits came my way, while waiting for someone to toddle up and say 'how much'.

It's a good idea. It's just, what's sticking in my head… The Mayor was laughing and starting to leave. I was getting ready to start weeding. Then he stopped, turned around, and stared at me.

"Or you could do like your Grandpa did, farm here yourself. Not a bad life, you know."

So, yeah, it stuck in my head while I worked all day. Well, okay, an hour. Then I wandered around the town for the rest of the day.

There's an inn, a beach, a large manor house I didn't go near because hey, rich people… There was a small river, or large stream, and across it there were more farms, these selling things like birds and cows and sheep and fruit and vegetable seeds.

It's a nice town. The people, what little I've seen of them, seem nice. And it's not like I've got anything, y'know, waiting for me once I've cleared this up. My family's washed their hands of me, 'cause last time I checked I was still living in my parents' basement. Maybe I COULD be a farmer.

Or maybe it's just a grace period for me to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.

Whatever. I'm going to bed.

Day 2:

Alright, in the interests of being completely truthful to this journal and myself (thanks a lot Dr. Rob because I really needed to spend time on a freaking book) I'll run through my day now.

Bluntly, it sucked.

Why, you ask? Wait, you can't ask, you're a bunch of paper and… I think I have heat stroke…

From the beginning, then.

So, I woke up. Turns out Grandpa has- had- an alarm clock. One of those battery powered ones, which surprised me. I figured Grandpa would be the type to shun technological advances.

It was set for six in the morning.

SIX IN THE MORNING! Who freaking gets up at six in the freaking morning?

And don't say 'farmers'.

Looking over my entry from yesterday, I can see that I didn't describe Grandpa Howard's old house (shack) as well as I could have. I'll do so now, just so I can cool off, because otherwise I'll get angry all over again.

It's small. Maybe a hundred square feet? IF that? There's a bed (too small!) in one back corner, a TV in the other (no chair, just a cushion… without any cushioning…), a shelf above the bed for I don't know what, a chest in the corner nearest the door, and in the last corner, a wardrobe. It's still filled with Grandpa Howard's things. Anyways, against one wall- the wall that isn't taken up by bed and wardrobe, because that's all that could fit- there's a little beer fridge, and on top of that, a shelf made of wood, just high enough to fit over the fridge. There was a box- an actual box, swear I'm not kidding- beside the fridge, and the shelf over the fridge was just long enough to stretch over the box. Enough room on the shelf for a microwave, hot plate, and not much else, except for a cutting board. A really small cutting board.

Yesterday, I got a few necessities, since there was no food anywhere to be found. A few boxes of macaroni and cheese, some milk, some bread, a pot… The well water's safe to drink, I asked the Mayor before he left yesterday. In between getting told how to sell produce (some guy named Zach has a stall in the towns square on market day, every other day he'll put whatever you want to sell in a truck, head to a big city, take a cut of what you earn, give you the rest…) and how to NOT get lost in the woods.

So, I made breakfast, which ended up being a cheese sandwich. Not bad, considering I was still half asleep.

Then I decided, what the heck, I was up, might as well poke around the farm, see what I've got to work with…

I have rats.

Oh, and a feral cat that tried to kill me.

Let me explain. I went out, looked around the chicken coop- and it was a chicken coop, turned out- and saw, well, nothing. So I headed over to the barn, opened the door, and scared the crap out of several really big rats. Long as my arm without their tails, I swear… But yeah, I'm not afraid of rats (well, once I get all my gibbering out, so that was five minutes in the doorway, and after that I was good) and I headed in. No light switch, so I left the doors open as wide as possible for all the light.

It was pretty run down. Spider webs were hung just about everywhere, I could hear rats squeaking and running around, there was straw strewn about wherever you looked… Then I looked up at the rafters, and saw two glowing green eyes narrowed at me.

I started to back up. That's when the cat attacked.

I ended up with scratches on my neck, shoulders, forehead, and a bite on my ear. The cat jumped off my shoulder and ran off into the darkness. I headed out of the barn and for the town doctor.

I'm going to have a scar on my ear. The scratches should heal up just fine. Everything was disinfected, if there's any soreness (beyond the expected), puffiness, or red color, I should talk to the doctor again.

Wonder if I'm the only one who thinks it odd that he's missing an eye and looks a little like a borg… Y'know, from Star Trek? Dr. Hardy's left eye was replaced by what looks like a plate of steel curved around his skull, and a red lens where the eye should be… Really freaky. Wonder how many people take their problems to him?

So, yeah, after that lovely interlude, I headed back to the farm. I kept one eye out for demon cats, and went back into the barn.

I didn't find much- a sickle, a sledge hammer, a watering can, a hoe, an old bag of seeds, and that was kind of it. Since I didn't want to come back into the barn again, I gathered it all up and took it out. Most of it could stay outside, but the watering can and seeds were taken in. Once I made sure there weren't any nasty surprises, that is.

After that, I was hungry enough to think about lunch. I made a pot of macaroni, and ate on the flat cushion in front of the TV.

Four channels. Weather, some weird variety program, cartoons, and something called 'Helpful Farming Tips'. I glanced at the weather- sunny tomorrow, five percent chance of rain- and then switched to the Tips channel.

"Water your crops when it's sunny or they'll wither away!" Uhm, duh? Though, even I know you don't need to water them EVERY day, not when it's been cool and it's rained recently. Summer, now, then it's a good idea to water every day. But yeah, let's kill our crops with over watering! Who's going to join me?

Pause for a response… Nothing. That's what I thought.

So, TV was a bust. The cartoons was… I don't know what, some weird romance thing. Demon prince, human princess, you just know they're going to get hitched.

I cleaned up the dishes, and then I finally got to work.

Guess what? Afternoons are hotter then mornings. Pulling weeds is hard on your back and hands. And if you don't have a hat, the sun tends to parboil your brain.

Yeah. I'm still alive. I'm not bleeding (anymore). I'm going to go to sleep. Tomorrow I'll figure out how to turn off the damn alarm clock.

Goodnight.

Day 4:

I am a bad, bad man. I forgot to write yesterday. (I pulled weeds and tossed rocks. Nothing much happened except my back hurts.) Well, I'm writing today, so alright, here we go.

I worked all morning, then decided to go into town. People were probably starting to wonder about me. Small farming town, nothing much interesting happens except storms, yeah? Turns out I was right. I met a bunch of people, including a couple (sorry, not a couple in the ROMANTIC sense, a couple as in two, they were very adamant about it) of archeologists working across the river-stream thing. Nice people, a bit intense. I also met the people who run the inn- Ruby, Rock (a spoiled brat if I ever met one), and Nami (she looks like she could use a therapist herself).

After that I wandered. There were a bunch of fields around town. I asked someone- Wally? Wallace? Walley? Something like that- about it, he said they were 'just left that way. If you see something interesting in there (meaning the field) you can have it'.

Well.

I'll admit, growing up with a horticultural obsessed sister (who has a normal name. Alice. How can you get any more normal then that?) has its uses. I know that the herbs I saw will get me some money, if I sell them to Zach. They're also edible, but they're bitter raw, so I'm better off selling them.

Okay, yeah, I went kind of nuts. There were the herbs and there were also some bamboo shoots scattered around. You can do stuff with bamboo, and I'm almost sure you can eat it. Maybe if I'm braver tomorrow, I'll have a try.

So, tomorrow- work in the morning, wander around town (okay, honesty, I know- forage for herbs and bamboo) in the afternoon. If something interesting happens, I'll write about it.

Day 5:

The girls here are psycho. Muffy especially. She's blonde, beautiful, and PSYCHO!

She tried to kiss me… Is it weird that I'd rather make out with a snake? I didn't even know her name!

I'm going to hide under my bed now, good night.

Day 6:

Yesterday, I think I came off as terrified. Well, I was. Muffy (psycho amorous blonde), Celia (shy, sweet, brunette), Nami (therapy requiring red head), Flora (archeology chick, brown hair), and Lumina (she's rich, what else can I say?) are all single. And interested. And apparently I'm new blood. (Did I mention there's a bona fida witch? She's blonde (and scary) and has red eyes and my hand still hurts from that hand shake…)

Help! They all have boyfriends, who now all want to KILL ME! (Except the witch, 'cause I don't think anyone's crazy enough to get on her good side. Might chuck you in her cauldron and turn you into one of those weird potions…) Carter (archeology, seems to like Flora no matter what they say), Gustafa (he likes Nina. Obviously, he needs therapy too), Marlin (he works on the same farm as Celia), Griffin (he's welcome to Muffy, seriously), and Rock (didn't I mention him? Spoilt brat, wasn't it? He's a gold digger, I guess he's going for Lumina), all made sure to talk to me yesterday and today. Along the lines of 'welcome to the valley, look at our girls and we'll scalp you'.

I don't want to die!

So, other then that harrowing 'meet the girls, then meet their boyfriends', I basically did what I did yesterday. (Uh, not including being assaulted by an amorous blonde). Work all morning, forage in the afternoon.

Maybe I can make myself gay… That'd save me from the girls, their boyfriends, and gossip. Right?

Whatever, goodnight.

ARGH I HAVE INSOMNIA!

It's midnight, I've been staring at the ceiling since seven at night… The bed's small and lumpy, there are weird sounds outside, and the roof might be rotting, I'm not sure.

I'm sitting out on the stoop as I write this, because there are no windows in the shack. It's close, and airless, and if I spend one more second in there… I don't know.

I have anger issues. I know that. Dr. Rob knows that- that's why I have a journal. It's so I don't let things build up (and then try to jump a mime that knows self defense… Owch…). Right. And you know what? My anger issues aren't going to be helped by being short on sleep.

Two hours ago, I got interrupted in my writing. By a thief. I'll write more about it tomorrow, I'm tired enough to sleep now. Good night.

Well, I've finally done it. I've written a Harvest Moon fanfic. Obviously I don't own it. I'm not even sure I own Cayor, since he IS the farmer who moves in... Anyways. There is no plot. This is what I work on when supremely bored. Reviews are optional, I'm going to go... do something now. Bye.