The Moondrop Saga
Chapter Two: Inheritance
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AN~ Wow, that took me awhile to write! Sorry for they delay, you guys—how would you like it if you had four tests to study for, two projects to work on, TONS homework to do, and chores! Oh, and I also have a REALLY slow computer, ya know? I go online for about 2 minutes and it cuts me off! ARGH! Damn computer! ::Kicks computer:: Hehe…anyway, at long last, here is chapter two. I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and just to let you know, it usually takes me about 3-6 weeks to write a single chappie! No kidding! So, have patience…and if I haven't posted the third chapter by April, you know I probably just gave up…-_-. Either that, or I took a really long break!
Like I said in previous ANs, I was going to change some things about the village. For one thing, the place you guys all know as the bar is now…and inn! Yes, like in BTN! Except that Duke is the innkeeper. And one last important thing: I don't like Harris! (Just a little warning for the chapters to come hehehe.)
Like always, thanks to everyone who reviewed!
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I cried all the rest of that day. It wasn't until Dad returned to the cabin, late that night, that I even made an effort to stop the tears. But, of course, they wouldn't stop. It's not easy to keep from crying when you're feeling crappy.
"What do you want?" I sobbed as the door creaked open. Dad staggered into the room, swaying back and forth with every step he took. He had obviously gone straight to the bar when Grandpa told him to leave, for his face was as red as a hot coal, and his breath stunk of whisky. I eyed him angrily as his gaze turned from Grandpa's lifeless body to my own tear-streaked face. "Why did you leave?" I wanted to yell at him. "Why? Why did you have to go to that goddamn pub to get yourself drunk? If you had been more dependable and stayed, Grandpa might still be ALIVE, for the love of God!" I wanted to make him feel guilty for being so irresponsible. I wanted him to feel my pain. But the only thing I managed to choke out was, "He's dead."
Dad nodded, his lips curled to reveal a sneering smile. "I know," he said, in a tone filled with glee. "Isn't it great? The old git's finally gone! He's finally gone!" He banged his fist against the wall, laughing like a lunatic. I stared at him in disbelief. How could my father be so cruel? Someone—his father-in-law—had just DIED and all he could do was dance around happily! I wanted to give him a good sock in the face for being such a bastard, but decided against it. Dad was a lot stronger than I was, and it was especially dangerous to pick a fight with him. So I just sat there on the cold wooden floor, reveling in my misery.
***
Word spreads fast in a small town. By lunchtime the next day, everyone in Flowerbud Village and beyond knew of Grandpa's passing, thanks to the big mouth of Harris, the local mailman, who had stopped by the farm early in the morning. (Dad and I spent the night there.) When the poor man heard the news, he nearly fainted in his disbelief, but I managed to catch him by the collar of his postal uniform before he fell.
"B-But it c-c-can't be!" Harris wailed, wiping his big nose with his sleeve. "Y-You're lying! He c-c-can't be dead!" And before I could stop him, he raced off in the direction of the village, leaving a trail of unsent letters in his wake. It wasn't just him, either—most of the other villagers had the same reaction, as I soon found out when a horde of townspeople appeared at my room at the inn, all with the same question: Was Tony (that's Grandpa's name) dead?
"I HEARD FROM HARRIS THAT THE OLD FARMER PASSED AWAY YESTERDAY!" hollered a wild-looking man with a matted beard. He appeared to be the leader of the pack, for the other villagers just crowded around him, nodding. "HE SAID HE HEARD THE NEWS FROM YOU, YOU LITTLE BRAT! IS IT TRUE? HUH? HUH? IS IT TRUE? YOU'D BETTER NOT BE LYING, OR ELSE—" He raised one muscular fist, and I quickly backed away from the door for fear of being pounded into the ground, like a nail at a hammer's mercy.
"Y-Yeah. He's gone," I stammered, looking around me for any sign of Dad. But of course, he wasn't there. Probably gone drinking himself to death again. "He d-died yesterday afternoon, at his farm...His funeral has already been arranged," I continued. I was telling the truth, too. I had gone to the church earlier in the day to set up a date for Grandpa's memorial service. But did the crowd believe my words? Of course not.
"YOU LIAR! I DON'T TRUST YOU!" the man fumed, taking a step forward into the room. The crowd followed suit, raising their fists, spatulas, knives and any other items they chose to use as weapons. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the pain that was soon to follow. But…surprisingly enough, nothing happened. Warily, I opened one eye, and saw a petite woman with sandy brown hair at the bearded man's side, holding him back by the arm.
"Gotz, husband! I told you to be civil!" she shrieked amidst the racket of the crowd. "Whatever gave you the idea of creating a riot out here? Poor boy—he looks petrified!" With a gentle smile, she extended one slender hand towards me, which I took, thanking her again and again for her benevolence (and timeliness). Gotz, however, wasn't so happy with his wife's interference.
"Who gave you permission to leave the house, Sasha!" he hollered, slapping the woman in the face. Sasha stumbled and fell backwards to the floor, amidst the laughter of the crowd. It was then, watching her suffer at the hands of her own husband, that I did some thing really, REALLY dumb. I walked right up to Gotz…and punched him in the face. I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was the memory of being humiliated by my father in the exact same way when I was a kid—knocked to the floor in front of his friends. Maybe I felt like I could save Sasha from this disgrace. Whatever the reason, I sure hated it later on. Gotz didn't so much as wince when I struck him; he just picked me up by the lapel of my shirt and threw me hard against the wall with ease.
"Stupid boy! What do you think you're doing?" he cried. I remained silent, ignoring the throbbing pain at the back of my head. I had to fight back—I had to, if I wanted to avoid getting beat to a pulp. As it turned out, though, I was once again rescued from the mob's wrath. Thank God for the innkeeper, Duke, who entered the suite just in time to see the tumult.
"Hey, hey! What's going on here?" he cried, pushing his way through the silenced crowd. Apparently, Gotz had a reputation for being a troublemaker, for as soon as Duke laid eyes on him, he at once pointed him out as the culprit. "Don't act all innocent, Gotz!" he fumed, pointing an accusing finger at the said person. "I know you did this! Who else would create such a riot in one's business!"
"Sir, I was just…I mean, this young man here--" Gotz stammered, rubbing the back of his neck in a guilty fashion. Duke sighed disapprovingly.
"I knew I shouldn't have let you and your friends drink so much last night!" he muttered. "Get out of here, now! All of you! And don't come back until you've sobered up!" With one flick of his hand, he dispersed the crowd, Gotz along with them. Duke was known to have quite a temper when provoked.
"Augh…What was that all about?" I moaned, getting to my feet. My head hurt like hell after being thrown into the wall. Duke shrugged.
"I don't know," he said, helping Sasha up to her feet. "Gotz must have had one drink too many last night. He's usually not like this, even if he is drunk." Sasha nodded in agreement.
"Yes. He is not usually like this. He is actually a very loving person, to both our daughter and me…most of the time." A frown crossed her gentle features, just for a little moment, before she continued: "I think Tony's death pushed him over the edge this time. He was a good friend of the family."
"WHAT? You knew my grandfather?" I blurted out, surprised. Grandpa, a good friend of that crazy idiot Gotz? Unbelievable.
"Oh…" Sasha frowned and peered at me closely. "You are Tony's grandson? I knew you were visiting the village…but I didn't know where. Actually," she said half-jokingly, "I didn't know you at all." She extended a hand. "But I do now. I'm Sasha Dionys. May I ask your name, dear?"
"Me? I'm Ryan. Ryan Hayes," I replied, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," Sasha said, a mix of pleasure and sadness manifested on her face. "I'm so very sorry about your loss, Ryan."
"We all are," Duke sighed, running a hand through his gray-streaked hair. "He was a great man, your grandfather." With one large, callused hand, he gave me a pat on the back that knocked me facedown to the ground again. "Heh heh…so, Ryan, you finally decided to ditch the low profile, eh? I had the hardest time keeping my mouth shut. Tony's grandson…what an honor! Your family must have quite a lineage!" Duke had known all along that I was at Flowerbud to visit Grandpa. (He asked me the minute Dad and I checked into the inn. The village doesn't get many tourists, so it was quite a surprise when the inn actually got visitors.) I wasn't about to take his words as a compliment, though. Apparently he didn't realize much of a bastard Dad was.
"Yeah, well…" I said, rubbing the back of my now excruciatingly painful neck as I struggled to get to my feet. "Heh heh… well…I think I should go now. I mean, I have to catch up with my Dad and everything." Actually, this wasn't true. I really had no intention of meeting up with Dad anytime soon, wherever he was. I thought it might be a bit rude, just leaving in a rush like that, but Duke and Sasha didn't seem to mind.
"Well, if you really want to go out, you can. This is, after all, an inn," Duke said, chuckling. Sasha nodded and handed me a folded piece of paper, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a map of the village.
"My husband and daughter and I live at the Moon Mountain Vineyard," she said. "Please come for a visit sometime. They would love to meet you."
I winced. I never wanted to see Gotz's face ever again, and I was pretty sure he didn't want to see mine, either. Nonetheless, I nodded in mock enthusiasm and promised to visit.
"Enjoy the rest of your stay at Flowerbud Village," Duke said with a little wave of his hand.
"Yes, of course," I replied as I stepped out the door. Duke and Sasha certainly were nice people. I didn't want to cause them any more trouble.
***
I decided to go for a walk. It had been a long day, what with funeral arrangements and angry townspeople. It was hard to believe that Grandpa's death had caused such chaos in Flowerbud Village, so much that even today's New Year's Festival, one of the few diversions in these parts, was canceled. I mean, he was only a farmer—not a very admirable job, if you ask me. But the villagers seemed to revere him, as if he were some sort of sacred deity. Even now, as I strolled down the cobblestone streets, many of the townspeople were gathered in front of houses and shops, talking in hushed whispers. As I passed them by, I could hear fragments of their conversations:
"He's gone…I can't believe it."
"Yeah…I didn't realize that he was so sick."
"Damn that disease!"
I laughed under my breath. How little they knew. Grandpa death was neither surprising nor sudden. He had been sick for a long time, ever since the day Mom died. Sure, his disease definitely played a part in his death, too, but what really killed him was his loneliness and solitude. I thought about telling some of the villagers this, but I held myself back. I wasn't sure if Grandpa would have liked the whole town to know this little tidbit of information. Besides, it made me feel better in a way, to keep this to myself. So I kept my mouth shut and continued walking towards the outskirts of the village, trying my absolute best to ignore the chatter of the villagers—I didn't need to hear any more gossip. What I did need, however, was someplace quiet to sort my thoughts out a little, someplace where I could lose myself without being disturbed.
I broke into a light jog. I knew exactly where that place was, and the sooner I got there, the better.
***
After about fifteen more minutes of walking, I stopped to rest against a weathered wooden fencepost. The Moondrop Farm lay before me, a mess of boulders and weeds. Looking at it, it was hard to believe that it had once been a prosperous place, where Grandma, Grandpa and Mom spent happy days together. Peering closer at it in the late afternoon sunlight, I could just make out the faint outline of the withered Moondrop flowers, a sad reminder of all the hardships and losses Grandpa went through during his life on the farm. It was sad, actually—while Grandpa was here toiling away at his farm, I was living the good life in the city, where flipping burgers at the local fast food restaurant was considered hard work.
I dug my nails into the soft wood of the fence, carving out all sorts of little nonsense designs. Now that I was away from the hustle and bustle of the village, I finally had a chance to think about something that had been bothering me since yesterday…something I had chosen to push to the very back of my mind until now. Pulling my jacket tighter around me, for it was still chilly even if it was the first day of Spring, I closed my eyes and thought back to the last few moments before Grandpa just…faded away.
He had said something before he died. I hadn't really heard it, but he did say something, and it wasn't just the pitiful ramblings of a dying man, either. What was it, though? I thought as hard I could, but nothing came to mind. Thus, I was left to speculate. Perhaps he had tried to say "I love you," or "Take care of the family," or something practical like that. Maybe he was murmuring something about joining Grandma and Mom in Heaven. Or…maybe…maybe he was trying to tell me something important, like…something about his will? I turned this thought over in my mind. What if he was telling me something was wrong with his inheritance? That he had left someone something that they didn't deserve? What if he was telling me to settle some long-forgotten conflict with a certain villager? What if, what if—My mind was swirling with all sorts of crazy ideas, half of which were very unlikely. Then…
Ca-chuk, ca-chuck
…The gravelly sound of footsteps caught my attention. Looking up, I saw Dad coming up the road leading from the village, his arms laden with baggage. As soon as he saw me standing there, he scowled disapprovingly and threw a large suitcase at my feet. I shot him a puzzled look, not sure what was meant by this. Before I could ask, however, Dad was already bawling at me for wasting his time.
"Well, what the hell are you waiting for!" he barked, drawing a piece of paper from one pocket. "All your stuff's packed inside! Take your damn luggage and let's go! Our ferry's waiting at the pier. Hurry up, or we'll miss it!" He brandished the paper in front of my face, where I could clearly see the big, bold label: TICKET FOR ONE: ROSEBUD LINES, 5:00 FERRY.
"W-what?" I stammered. "We're leaving? Now? But the funeral—"
"I don't care. I just want to leave this goddamn village once and for all!" Dad swung a black duffel bag over his shoulder. "I have all of the old man's stuff in this bag here. Some porcelain, jewelry…that sort of thing. Most of it was your grandmother's actually. And these insurance papers are bound to get us some cash." He waved a pile of papers in the air, a devilish grin on his face.
"Well, what're you waiting for? Let's go!" he cried. He started down the path that led to the beach, but I stood rooted to the spot. Dad wanted to leave right now, without even going to Grandpa's funeral or memorial service. "What a selfish fool," I thought. He was a greedy, hateful bastard who had no respect for the dead or for anyone for that matter.
And yet…I was following this vile man?
The notion struck me like a bolt of lightning; so suddenly and clear that it was almost funny that I hadn't ever thought of it before. Here I was, Ryan Hayes, age 18—a grown man—who was still following every order from someone he had detested for nearly five years. I always followed my father's word like some sort of machine, almost never stopping to think about my own options. What kind of life was that? Why couldn't I make my own decisions? I was old and capable enough, that's for sure. I didn't need to take orders from some jackass. And, as I soon realized, I didn't have to. Being an adult, I could do whatever I felt was right for me, whether that was disobeying my father…or, believe it or not, staying in Flowerbud Village. Sure, it seemed crazy—a city boy making a living in the countryside, but it was strange…the little town had grown on me somehow, to the point where I thought I wanted to stay there just a little bit longer—or, as things turned out, for the rest of my life. It was better than going back to the city with my father at least.
"Ryan!" Dad's nagging voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "What's taking so long? Hurry up!" He was now standing at the end of the road, beckoning me to follow. But instead of going to him, like I usually would, I stood rooted to the spot and called: "Don't bother calling me, Dad! I'm not going with you!" In the distance, I could see him falter. He dropped his luggage on the ground and ran right back down the path.
"What?" he cried, as soon as he caught up with me. "Of course you're going! This isn't your home, you idiot!" He grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a little shake. "You hear me? This isn't your home!"
"So what? I'm not going." I thought I might as well say it again. "I…don't want to go. I like it here. I want to stay for a little while before going back to the city, you know? Actually," I said excitedly, as a new, even crazier idea popped into my head, "I'm thinking about living here, you know? I mean, I could find a home and—"
"WHAT?" Dad shook me so hard that my teeth started to rattle. I never did figure out why he was so against my idea. Heck, there were many things about him that I never really figured out, as a matter of fact. "What did you say? You're going to LIVE here? That's ludicrous, dammit! You don't have anywhere to stay! What, you're going to live in that inn forever? Why don't you think ahead for once?" He grabbed me tightly by the arm and started dragging me down the road. "You're going back with me to the city, Ryan! Hell, why are you so fond about this damn town anyway? If there's any place you want to live, it's the city—"
"But I don't want to go back to the city, dammit!" I burst out, freeing myself from his grip. Dad turned to look at me, shocked. As far as he knew, my talking back to him was practically unheard of.
"What?" he said, for the millionth time that day.
"I don't want to go back to the city," I reiterated, quieter this time. "Like I said, I've been thinking about this for awhile, and I just want to let you know that I'm not a little kid anymore. I turned eighteen last Fall, you know, and that is the legal age in these parts, right? So…" I took a deep breath, readying myself for the wrath I knew I would have to face when I told him my crazy plan. Dad stood stock-still, with a look on his face that clearly said, "Stop stalling and get to the point already!" A wry smile curved at my lips. He may seem cool and collected now, but he was soon going to throw some fit!
"I'm still not quite sure why you're so hateful towards Grandpa and everything about him," I continued, running a hand through my dark brown hair, like I usually do when I'm nervous. "Maybe you still haven't gotten over Mom—that's what Grandpa said before he…you know. Anyway, I really want to make Grandpa proud of me, even if he is gone. I don't know about you, but I feel sort of guilty for not spending that much time with him. Um…" I took another deep breath. It was now or never. "What I'm about to say may seem a little extreme, but I've been thinking about it for a while." (About five minutes ago, in fact, but of course I didn't tell him that!) "I'm thinking…I'm thinking of…uh…" I paused, trying to think of some way to say it in a more elaborate fashion, but then decided it would be better just saying it plain and simple.
"I-I'm thinking of taking over the Moondrop Farm." I lowered my head and waited for the lecture to begin. It came, all right, in a small livid speech, every word dripping with an immeasurable amount of cold fury:
"Like mother, like son. Always following in Tony's footsteps. Even in death, he is revered like a god." Dad spat bitterly on the ground before letting out a string of curses so violent that even I was surprised at their intensity.
"Fine!" he cried, his body trembling with rage. "You want to take over the goddamn family farm! Then take over it! But remember!" He waved one threatening finger at me. "When you find nothing but failure and ruin for you here, don't you dare come running to me for help of ANY kind! You have the independence you wanted, you little brat! From now on, you are no longer my responsibility!" He turned on his heel and stomped back down the road, muttering furiously at my nerve. I guess I should have felt a little remorse then. After all, my father pretty much just disowned me. But I could think of nothing at the moment except that I had won the battle; the farm was mine. I was now unlimited in doing whatever I wanted to in life, for I was finally free from my father's oppression.
"YOU WERE NEVER MY FATHER ANYWAY!" I screeched at the retreating figure before turning around to face the Moondrop Farm—no, my farm.
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AN~ So, how was it? I'm sorry if it seemed way too dramatic and repetitive at the end…need…to…get…away…from…English…::Cough:: C'mon, feedback, feedback! I don't care if it's criticism, just as long as it's constructive and not a flame! Erm…sorry again! ^_^V (Hehe…I had way to much sugar for lunch today!) I know there haven't been any of the eligible girls in the story yet. You'll just have to wait until the next chapter to see them! (Most of the villagers will be making an appearance.) Stay tuned for Moondrop Saga Chapter 03: The First Seeds.
BTW, since it's Saturday night and I'm bored, I'll just fix a little treat for you guys (and girls).
LEARN JAPANESE!
Moshi Moshi: Hello (on the phone)
Ja ne: Goodbye
Owari: The end
Arigatou: Thank you
Gomen ne: Sorry
I hope you learned something today…note that I'm not too good at the language myself, hehe. So…Ja ne! n_n
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Chapter Two: Inheritance
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AN~ Wow, that took me awhile to write! Sorry for they delay, you guys—how would you like it if you had four tests to study for, two projects to work on, TONS homework to do, and chores! Oh, and I also have a REALLY slow computer, ya know? I go online for about 2 minutes and it cuts me off! ARGH! Damn computer! ::Kicks computer:: Hehe…anyway, at long last, here is chapter two. I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and just to let you know, it usually takes me about 3-6 weeks to write a single chappie! No kidding! So, have patience…and if I haven't posted the third chapter by April, you know I probably just gave up…-_-. Either that, or I took a really long break!
Like I said in previous ANs, I was going to change some things about the village. For one thing, the place you guys all know as the bar is now…and inn! Yes, like in BTN! Except that Duke is the innkeeper. And one last important thing: I don't like Harris! (Just a little warning for the chapters to come hehehe.)
Like always, thanks to everyone who reviewed!
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I cried all the rest of that day. It wasn't until Dad returned to the cabin, late that night, that I even made an effort to stop the tears. But, of course, they wouldn't stop. It's not easy to keep from crying when you're feeling crappy.
"What do you want?" I sobbed as the door creaked open. Dad staggered into the room, swaying back and forth with every step he took. He had obviously gone straight to the bar when Grandpa told him to leave, for his face was as red as a hot coal, and his breath stunk of whisky. I eyed him angrily as his gaze turned from Grandpa's lifeless body to my own tear-streaked face. "Why did you leave?" I wanted to yell at him. "Why? Why did you have to go to that goddamn pub to get yourself drunk? If you had been more dependable and stayed, Grandpa might still be ALIVE, for the love of God!" I wanted to make him feel guilty for being so irresponsible. I wanted him to feel my pain. But the only thing I managed to choke out was, "He's dead."
Dad nodded, his lips curled to reveal a sneering smile. "I know," he said, in a tone filled with glee. "Isn't it great? The old git's finally gone! He's finally gone!" He banged his fist against the wall, laughing like a lunatic. I stared at him in disbelief. How could my father be so cruel? Someone—his father-in-law—had just DIED and all he could do was dance around happily! I wanted to give him a good sock in the face for being such a bastard, but decided against it. Dad was a lot stronger than I was, and it was especially dangerous to pick a fight with him. So I just sat there on the cold wooden floor, reveling in my misery.
***
Word spreads fast in a small town. By lunchtime the next day, everyone in Flowerbud Village and beyond knew of Grandpa's passing, thanks to the big mouth of Harris, the local mailman, who had stopped by the farm early in the morning. (Dad and I spent the night there.) When the poor man heard the news, he nearly fainted in his disbelief, but I managed to catch him by the collar of his postal uniform before he fell.
"B-But it c-c-can't be!" Harris wailed, wiping his big nose with his sleeve. "Y-You're lying! He c-c-can't be dead!" And before I could stop him, he raced off in the direction of the village, leaving a trail of unsent letters in his wake. It wasn't just him, either—most of the other villagers had the same reaction, as I soon found out when a horde of townspeople appeared at my room at the inn, all with the same question: Was Tony (that's Grandpa's name) dead?
"I HEARD FROM HARRIS THAT THE OLD FARMER PASSED AWAY YESTERDAY!" hollered a wild-looking man with a matted beard. He appeared to be the leader of the pack, for the other villagers just crowded around him, nodding. "HE SAID HE HEARD THE NEWS FROM YOU, YOU LITTLE BRAT! IS IT TRUE? HUH? HUH? IS IT TRUE? YOU'D BETTER NOT BE LYING, OR ELSE—" He raised one muscular fist, and I quickly backed away from the door for fear of being pounded into the ground, like a nail at a hammer's mercy.
"Y-Yeah. He's gone," I stammered, looking around me for any sign of Dad. But of course, he wasn't there. Probably gone drinking himself to death again. "He d-died yesterday afternoon, at his farm...His funeral has already been arranged," I continued. I was telling the truth, too. I had gone to the church earlier in the day to set up a date for Grandpa's memorial service. But did the crowd believe my words? Of course not.
"YOU LIAR! I DON'T TRUST YOU!" the man fumed, taking a step forward into the room. The crowd followed suit, raising their fists, spatulas, knives and any other items they chose to use as weapons. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the pain that was soon to follow. But…surprisingly enough, nothing happened. Warily, I opened one eye, and saw a petite woman with sandy brown hair at the bearded man's side, holding him back by the arm.
"Gotz, husband! I told you to be civil!" she shrieked amidst the racket of the crowd. "Whatever gave you the idea of creating a riot out here? Poor boy—he looks petrified!" With a gentle smile, she extended one slender hand towards me, which I took, thanking her again and again for her benevolence (and timeliness). Gotz, however, wasn't so happy with his wife's interference.
"Who gave you permission to leave the house, Sasha!" he hollered, slapping the woman in the face. Sasha stumbled and fell backwards to the floor, amidst the laughter of the crowd. It was then, watching her suffer at the hands of her own husband, that I did some thing really, REALLY dumb. I walked right up to Gotz…and punched him in the face. I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was the memory of being humiliated by my father in the exact same way when I was a kid—knocked to the floor in front of his friends. Maybe I felt like I could save Sasha from this disgrace. Whatever the reason, I sure hated it later on. Gotz didn't so much as wince when I struck him; he just picked me up by the lapel of my shirt and threw me hard against the wall with ease.
"Stupid boy! What do you think you're doing?" he cried. I remained silent, ignoring the throbbing pain at the back of my head. I had to fight back—I had to, if I wanted to avoid getting beat to a pulp. As it turned out, though, I was once again rescued from the mob's wrath. Thank God for the innkeeper, Duke, who entered the suite just in time to see the tumult.
"Hey, hey! What's going on here?" he cried, pushing his way through the silenced crowd. Apparently, Gotz had a reputation for being a troublemaker, for as soon as Duke laid eyes on him, he at once pointed him out as the culprit. "Don't act all innocent, Gotz!" he fumed, pointing an accusing finger at the said person. "I know you did this! Who else would create such a riot in one's business!"
"Sir, I was just…I mean, this young man here--" Gotz stammered, rubbing the back of his neck in a guilty fashion. Duke sighed disapprovingly.
"I knew I shouldn't have let you and your friends drink so much last night!" he muttered. "Get out of here, now! All of you! And don't come back until you've sobered up!" With one flick of his hand, he dispersed the crowd, Gotz along with them. Duke was known to have quite a temper when provoked.
"Augh…What was that all about?" I moaned, getting to my feet. My head hurt like hell after being thrown into the wall. Duke shrugged.
"I don't know," he said, helping Sasha up to her feet. "Gotz must have had one drink too many last night. He's usually not like this, even if he is drunk." Sasha nodded in agreement.
"Yes. He is not usually like this. He is actually a very loving person, to both our daughter and me…most of the time." A frown crossed her gentle features, just for a little moment, before she continued: "I think Tony's death pushed him over the edge this time. He was a good friend of the family."
"WHAT? You knew my grandfather?" I blurted out, surprised. Grandpa, a good friend of that crazy idiot Gotz? Unbelievable.
"Oh…" Sasha frowned and peered at me closely. "You are Tony's grandson? I knew you were visiting the village…but I didn't know where. Actually," she said half-jokingly, "I didn't know you at all." She extended a hand. "But I do now. I'm Sasha Dionys. May I ask your name, dear?"
"Me? I'm Ryan. Ryan Hayes," I replied, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," Sasha said, a mix of pleasure and sadness manifested on her face. "I'm so very sorry about your loss, Ryan."
"We all are," Duke sighed, running a hand through his gray-streaked hair. "He was a great man, your grandfather." With one large, callused hand, he gave me a pat on the back that knocked me facedown to the ground again. "Heh heh…so, Ryan, you finally decided to ditch the low profile, eh? I had the hardest time keeping my mouth shut. Tony's grandson…what an honor! Your family must have quite a lineage!" Duke had known all along that I was at Flowerbud to visit Grandpa. (He asked me the minute Dad and I checked into the inn. The village doesn't get many tourists, so it was quite a surprise when the inn actually got visitors.) I wasn't about to take his words as a compliment, though. Apparently he didn't realize much of a bastard Dad was.
"Yeah, well…" I said, rubbing the back of my now excruciatingly painful neck as I struggled to get to my feet. "Heh heh… well…I think I should go now. I mean, I have to catch up with my Dad and everything." Actually, this wasn't true. I really had no intention of meeting up with Dad anytime soon, wherever he was. I thought it might be a bit rude, just leaving in a rush like that, but Duke and Sasha didn't seem to mind.
"Well, if you really want to go out, you can. This is, after all, an inn," Duke said, chuckling. Sasha nodded and handed me a folded piece of paper, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a map of the village.
"My husband and daughter and I live at the Moon Mountain Vineyard," she said. "Please come for a visit sometime. They would love to meet you."
I winced. I never wanted to see Gotz's face ever again, and I was pretty sure he didn't want to see mine, either. Nonetheless, I nodded in mock enthusiasm and promised to visit.
"Enjoy the rest of your stay at Flowerbud Village," Duke said with a little wave of his hand.
"Yes, of course," I replied as I stepped out the door. Duke and Sasha certainly were nice people. I didn't want to cause them any more trouble.
***
I decided to go for a walk. It had been a long day, what with funeral arrangements and angry townspeople. It was hard to believe that Grandpa's death had caused such chaos in Flowerbud Village, so much that even today's New Year's Festival, one of the few diversions in these parts, was canceled. I mean, he was only a farmer—not a very admirable job, if you ask me. But the villagers seemed to revere him, as if he were some sort of sacred deity. Even now, as I strolled down the cobblestone streets, many of the townspeople were gathered in front of houses and shops, talking in hushed whispers. As I passed them by, I could hear fragments of their conversations:
"He's gone…I can't believe it."
"Yeah…I didn't realize that he was so sick."
"Damn that disease!"
I laughed under my breath. How little they knew. Grandpa death was neither surprising nor sudden. He had been sick for a long time, ever since the day Mom died. Sure, his disease definitely played a part in his death, too, but what really killed him was his loneliness and solitude. I thought about telling some of the villagers this, but I held myself back. I wasn't sure if Grandpa would have liked the whole town to know this little tidbit of information. Besides, it made me feel better in a way, to keep this to myself. So I kept my mouth shut and continued walking towards the outskirts of the village, trying my absolute best to ignore the chatter of the villagers—I didn't need to hear any more gossip. What I did need, however, was someplace quiet to sort my thoughts out a little, someplace where I could lose myself without being disturbed.
I broke into a light jog. I knew exactly where that place was, and the sooner I got there, the better.
***
After about fifteen more minutes of walking, I stopped to rest against a weathered wooden fencepost. The Moondrop Farm lay before me, a mess of boulders and weeds. Looking at it, it was hard to believe that it had once been a prosperous place, where Grandma, Grandpa and Mom spent happy days together. Peering closer at it in the late afternoon sunlight, I could just make out the faint outline of the withered Moondrop flowers, a sad reminder of all the hardships and losses Grandpa went through during his life on the farm. It was sad, actually—while Grandpa was here toiling away at his farm, I was living the good life in the city, where flipping burgers at the local fast food restaurant was considered hard work.
I dug my nails into the soft wood of the fence, carving out all sorts of little nonsense designs. Now that I was away from the hustle and bustle of the village, I finally had a chance to think about something that had been bothering me since yesterday…something I had chosen to push to the very back of my mind until now. Pulling my jacket tighter around me, for it was still chilly even if it was the first day of Spring, I closed my eyes and thought back to the last few moments before Grandpa just…faded away.
He had said something before he died. I hadn't really heard it, but he did say something, and it wasn't just the pitiful ramblings of a dying man, either. What was it, though? I thought as hard I could, but nothing came to mind. Thus, I was left to speculate. Perhaps he had tried to say "I love you," or "Take care of the family," or something practical like that. Maybe he was murmuring something about joining Grandma and Mom in Heaven. Or…maybe…maybe he was trying to tell me something important, like…something about his will? I turned this thought over in my mind. What if he was telling me something was wrong with his inheritance? That he had left someone something that they didn't deserve? What if he was telling me to settle some long-forgotten conflict with a certain villager? What if, what if—My mind was swirling with all sorts of crazy ideas, half of which were very unlikely. Then…
Ca-chuk, ca-chuck
…The gravelly sound of footsteps caught my attention. Looking up, I saw Dad coming up the road leading from the village, his arms laden with baggage. As soon as he saw me standing there, he scowled disapprovingly and threw a large suitcase at my feet. I shot him a puzzled look, not sure what was meant by this. Before I could ask, however, Dad was already bawling at me for wasting his time.
"Well, what the hell are you waiting for!" he barked, drawing a piece of paper from one pocket. "All your stuff's packed inside! Take your damn luggage and let's go! Our ferry's waiting at the pier. Hurry up, or we'll miss it!" He brandished the paper in front of my face, where I could clearly see the big, bold label: TICKET FOR ONE: ROSEBUD LINES, 5:00 FERRY.
"W-what?" I stammered. "We're leaving? Now? But the funeral—"
"I don't care. I just want to leave this goddamn village once and for all!" Dad swung a black duffel bag over his shoulder. "I have all of the old man's stuff in this bag here. Some porcelain, jewelry…that sort of thing. Most of it was your grandmother's actually. And these insurance papers are bound to get us some cash." He waved a pile of papers in the air, a devilish grin on his face.
"Well, what're you waiting for? Let's go!" he cried. He started down the path that led to the beach, but I stood rooted to the spot. Dad wanted to leave right now, without even going to Grandpa's funeral or memorial service. "What a selfish fool," I thought. He was a greedy, hateful bastard who had no respect for the dead or for anyone for that matter.
And yet…I was following this vile man?
The notion struck me like a bolt of lightning; so suddenly and clear that it was almost funny that I hadn't ever thought of it before. Here I was, Ryan Hayes, age 18—a grown man—who was still following every order from someone he had detested for nearly five years. I always followed my father's word like some sort of machine, almost never stopping to think about my own options. What kind of life was that? Why couldn't I make my own decisions? I was old and capable enough, that's for sure. I didn't need to take orders from some jackass. And, as I soon realized, I didn't have to. Being an adult, I could do whatever I felt was right for me, whether that was disobeying my father…or, believe it or not, staying in Flowerbud Village. Sure, it seemed crazy—a city boy making a living in the countryside, but it was strange…the little town had grown on me somehow, to the point where I thought I wanted to stay there just a little bit longer—or, as things turned out, for the rest of my life. It was better than going back to the city with my father at least.
"Ryan!" Dad's nagging voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "What's taking so long? Hurry up!" He was now standing at the end of the road, beckoning me to follow. But instead of going to him, like I usually would, I stood rooted to the spot and called: "Don't bother calling me, Dad! I'm not going with you!" In the distance, I could see him falter. He dropped his luggage on the ground and ran right back down the path.
"What?" he cried, as soon as he caught up with me. "Of course you're going! This isn't your home, you idiot!" He grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a little shake. "You hear me? This isn't your home!"
"So what? I'm not going." I thought I might as well say it again. "I…don't want to go. I like it here. I want to stay for a little while before going back to the city, you know? Actually," I said excitedly, as a new, even crazier idea popped into my head, "I'm thinking about living here, you know? I mean, I could find a home and—"
"WHAT?" Dad shook me so hard that my teeth started to rattle. I never did figure out why he was so against my idea. Heck, there were many things about him that I never really figured out, as a matter of fact. "What did you say? You're going to LIVE here? That's ludicrous, dammit! You don't have anywhere to stay! What, you're going to live in that inn forever? Why don't you think ahead for once?" He grabbed me tightly by the arm and started dragging me down the road. "You're going back with me to the city, Ryan! Hell, why are you so fond about this damn town anyway? If there's any place you want to live, it's the city—"
"But I don't want to go back to the city, dammit!" I burst out, freeing myself from his grip. Dad turned to look at me, shocked. As far as he knew, my talking back to him was practically unheard of.
"What?" he said, for the millionth time that day.
"I don't want to go back to the city," I reiterated, quieter this time. "Like I said, I've been thinking about this for awhile, and I just want to let you know that I'm not a little kid anymore. I turned eighteen last Fall, you know, and that is the legal age in these parts, right? So…" I took a deep breath, readying myself for the wrath I knew I would have to face when I told him my crazy plan. Dad stood stock-still, with a look on his face that clearly said, "Stop stalling and get to the point already!" A wry smile curved at my lips. He may seem cool and collected now, but he was soon going to throw some fit!
"I'm still not quite sure why you're so hateful towards Grandpa and everything about him," I continued, running a hand through my dark brown hair, like I usually do when I'm nervous. "Maybe you still haven't gotten over Mom—that's what Grandpa said before he…you know. Anyway, I really want to make Grandpa proud of me, even if he is gone. I don't know about you, but I feel sort of guilty for not spending that much time with him. Um…" I took another deep breath. It was now or never. "What I'm about to say may seem a little extreme, but I've been thinking about it for a while." (About five minutes ago, in fact, but of course I didn't tell him that!) "I'm thinking…I'm thinking of…uh…" I paused, trying to think of some way to say it in a more elaborate fashion, but then decided it would be better just saying it plain and simple.
"I-I'm thinking of taking over the Moondrop Farm." I lowered my head and waited for the lecture to begin. It came, all right, in a small livid speech, every word dripping with an immeasurable amount of cold fury:
"Like mother, like son. Always following in Tony's footsteps. Even in death, he is revered like a god." Dad spat bitterly on the ground before letting out a string of curses so violent that even I was surprised at their intensity.
"Fine!" he cried, his body trembling with rage. "You want to take over the goddamn family farm! Then take over it! But remember!" He waved one threatening finger at me. "When you find nothing but failure and ruin for you here, don't you dare come running to me for help of ANY kind! You have the independence you wanted, you little brat! From now on, you are no longer my responsibility!" He turned on his heel and stomped back down the road, muttering furiously at my nerve. I guess I should have felt a little remorse then. After all, my father pretty much just disowned me. But I could think of nothing at the moment except that I had won the battle; the farm was mine. I was now unlimited in doing whatever I wanted to in life, for I was finally free from my father's oppression.
"YOU WERE NEVER MY FATHER ANYWAY!" I screeched at the retreating figure before turning around to face the Moondrop Farm—no, my farm.
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AN~ So, how was it? I'm sorry if it seemed way too dramatic and repetitive at the end…need…to…get…away…from…English…::Cough:: C'mon, feedback, feedback! I don't care if it's criticism, just as long as it's constructive and not a flame! Erm…sorry again! ^_^V (Hehe…I had way to much sugar for lunch today!) I know there haven't been any of the eligible girls in the story yet. You'll just have to wait until the next chapter to see them! (Most of the villagers will be making an appearance.) Stay tuned for Moondrop Saga Chapter 03: The First Seeds.
BTW, since it's Saturday night and I'm bored, I'll just fix a little treat for you guys (and girls).
LEARN JAPANESE!
Moshi Moshi: Hello (on the phone)
Ja ne: Goodbye
Owari: The end
Arigatou: Thank you
Gomen ne: Sorry
I hope you learned something today…note that I'm not too good at the language myself, hehe. So…Ja ne! n_n
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