The Strange Town

     The sun shone brightly on the rooftops of the small cottages. Each one was an almost exact replica of the others; a thatched roof, and sod walls, with windows cut out and covered with pieces of wood that acted as shutters. Just beyond the small village, the men worked in the community field. They were working to harvest as much as they could before the first rain. When it began to rain, all that remained would be left.

     Inside the cottages, the women and children were cleaning from top to bottom, dusting, mopping, sweeping, and repainting all that needed it. Even if it didn't. They cleaned in preparation of the harvest. When they got it, the men, women, and children would remain inside until the rain stopped, washing, boiling, peeling, dicing, slicing, and mashing their greens. They would then make pickled, salted, preserved, dried, and pulled fruits and vegetables, and put them into jars in their basements.

     When the rain stopped, the shepherds would bring in the animals and the village would slaughter them, as many as they could, again before the rain came. Then they would slice, dice, boil, chop, season, dry, and salt the meats to last them for a while. These too would be stored in the basements.

     Each house was separate, and so too were the basements, but each cellar was also interconnected by small tunnels. In case a family ran out of food. Each house was almost exactly alike on the inside, as well. Having a separated kitchen, large enough for the family to eat in, a small room for the occasional (rare) visitor, and a room for the mother and father of the family. There were also three other bedrooms, one for the babies, four or younger, one for the girls, and one for the boys. Each family had at least two inhabitants for each room, except the room for the infants.

     Even though the villagers never could harvest all of their plants, or slaughter all of the livestock, there was never any of either left after the rains. The second rains continued until the villagers made their yearly trek to the Tower of the Ancients. No one ever spoke of the creatures that took the remainder of field and animal harvest. Even though there was never anything left, the villagers began anew each year with new herds of animals, and a miraculously restocked field, that they never had to plant.

     One cottage stood out from the rest, though. Not because of what was outside, or even the family on a regular basis, but because the oldest daughter was sitting at the bedside of the infant room, rather than helping to clean. Her sister was also in the room, but she was cleaning, only occasionally stopping to make sure that the inhabitant of the bed was still breathing.

     The person on the bed was much older than four years. No one in the village had been curious about him since he arrived shortly after the plants began growing. He had appeared, spoken with one of the older villagers, and then passed out. That elder said the boy's eyes had been dark, but no one was really interested. They did know for certain, however, that his hair was a red-brown color, nearly auburn. He was also very tall, so tall that his legs hung off the small bed he lay in and bent at the knee, where his feet touched the floor evenly, with a little extra bend in his knees. He appeared to have no injuries, beyond a scar across his face, extending form his right temple, over his nose, and thinning there. It then became thicker as it passed over his left cheek to end at the left side of his jaw. It had been a wound when he arrived, but healed quickly as he remained in the village.

     When he showed up, the boy had been wearing a red shirt with the sleeves folded up to show their white undersides. A green tunic that hung to his knees rested over that, with a brown belt tied about his waist. Brown boots, a blue cloak hanging over his shoulders to mid-calf, and a belt looped over one shoulder with a sword and sheath completed his wardrobe. He had dropped a medium sized bag stuffed full of items, but again, no one in the village was curious enough to look.

     He had arrived at the beginning of the growing season and it was now harvest time. He was still unconscious; the only sign of life was the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, covered by a thin blanket that only covered him to just past his knees. That was the reason why there had to be two daughters to watch him. There was nothing under the blanket but him. The village males had stripped him to ensure that there were no hidden wounds.

     Even though they weren't curious about him, they were curious as to when he'd awaken.

     The oldest daughter stood up to stretch, and both girls left for a minute.

These first three chapters were uploaded only because the story is complete. I will try to get the rest as soon as possible. But I would like it very much if someone would tell me how this story is.