The Moondrop Saga
Chapter Three: Grandpa's Wake
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Hey, I'm back again with another chapter, although this one is a little shorter. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, since I worked on this instead of finishing my art homework. ^_~ Unlike what I said last time, this chapter is not called "The First Seeds"—that's the next chapter. (I sorta changed my mind about the sequence of events.) And only a handful of characters make an appearance. Sorry about that.
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After Dad left for the ferry, I went for a survey of the farm, ecstatic and happy at the fact that all of it was mine; the fields, the barn, the henhouse and the cabin all belonged to me, as did the withered Moondrop flowers, the broken fence that surrounded the empty pasture, and the rocks and weeds that littered the field. The farm was a mess, that was for sure, and would need a lot of cleaning up before most people would even consider it profitable, but I was up to the challenge. If Grandpa could handle the farm, then I sure as hell could, especially now that I didn't have my father as an obstacle. With these thoughts, I retrieved my luggage from the road where I had left it and made my way inside the old cabin.
The first thing I saw when I stepped inside was the pieces of the bowl I had shattered the day before. They lay scattered on the wooden floor, the rays of the late afternoon sun glinting off the shards. Sighing, for I had totally forgotten to clean them up, I swept the debris against the wall with one foot before proceeding to examine the rest of my new home.
It was a very plain, dirty old room, with the only modern furnishing being a very old model of a television set lying next to the nightstand. Everything else was obsolete; the floor and walls were covered with a thin film of dust, and the bed appeared to be on the verge of falling apart. The nightstand in-between the table and bed, and the low table standing at the center of room looked as if they were half-eaten by termites, which was probably the case, I thought, as I examined a worn out portion of the table leg. There appeared to be no sign of any other rooms, not even a kitchen or bathroom.
"Oh great," I muttered, thinking about how I was going to shower or relieve myself when I needed to. Not to mention, how was I going to eat? Sighing, I flopped casually onto the bed and drew out a half-eaten granola bar from my pocket. It was the only piece of food I had with me, but since I was hungry and didn't feel like going back to the village for rations, I decided I was better off eating it now rather than starving to death. Throwing the wrapper aside (there didn't seem to be a garbage can nearby), I settled in comfortably in the deep folds of the mattress and bit into the dull flavor of oatmeal and raisins.
After swallowing the last of the granola (It only took three bites to finish), I lay back comfortably on the soft pillow and pulled my cap down over my eyes. As much as the idea of reviving the farm excited me, I was dead tired from the events of the day and desperately needed rest. "So, why not turn in for the night?" I thought, closing my eyes. It didn't take long for me to drift to sleep; I never was much of an insomniac, and today was no exception. Within seconds, I was in a deep slumber.
…Only later did I realize I was lying on what was once a deathbed.
***
The next morning, the entire village was gathered at the church for Grandpa's funeral. It was a dismal ceremony, with many of the townspeople going up to the altar to read eulogies that brought tears to everyone's eyes. Even the pastor, who was reputed never to have shed a tear at any of the rites he held, was caught sobbing during the ceremony. Most people were.
I arrived at the church just as the funeral began. The place was packed—there was hardly enough room to do even the simplest of actions, or even to move at all. I had a hell of a tough time edging my way through the crowd to stand next to the only familiar face: Duke, who seemed a bit disgruntled at the fact that all the pews were filled, and that he had to stand near the back of the church being jostled and shoved by everyone around him.
"Was Grandpa really this popular?" I whispered as I came to stand beside him. Duke nodded and put a finger to his lips. "Be quiet and listen to Pastor Brown!" he hissed, motioning to the altar, where the chubby pastor was speaking to the congregation. I sighed and leaned nonchalantly against the whitewashed walls. Silence was imperative to the solemn atmosphere of church, although the people in front of me, who were squabbling over seats, seemed not to notice. I shook my head at them in disgust. They showed absolutely no respect towards the church or Grandpa. Duke seemed to think so too, as he eyed the bickering bunch with a look that clearly suggested that they'd better shut up, lest they face his wrath.
The ceremony dragged on. One by one, the villagers went up to the altar to say a few kind words, and one by one they returned to their seats, eyes brimming with tears. A VERY fat man clad in a purple suit talked about Grandpa's remarkable talent for cooking, while the mayor's wife, Anna, rambled on about his excellent participation in the town's special events. Out of all the people who spoke, however, the one who made the greatest impression in my mind was a young girl with chin-length brown hair, who called Grandpa a man "whose greatness was only surpassed by his kindness" before breaking down in tears, whereupon the mayor (Duke had pointed him out to me) came and escorted her away. Of course, I noticed that she was definitely cute, and watched her as she returned to her seat until Duke noticed my gaze and slapped me hard on the back of the head.
"OW! What was that for?" I cried, so loudly that the entire congregation turned to stare, annoyance etched on all of their faces, including the brown-haired girl I had been watching just a few seconds before. Pastor Brown looked up from reading his eulogy and said:
"Please, sir, will you not disturb us?" His voice was as sharp as a double- edged blade. I rubbed the back of my head in a sheepish fashion and nodded.
"Yes, of course...I apologize," I said, shooting a nasty glare at Duke, who immediately stepped aside as if he had had no part in this.
"Very well then." The pastor continued to speak, and everyone's attention soon returned to him. I gave Duke a small shove, nearly knocking him into two school-age boys, who back away from us like the plague.
"What was that for?" I hissed, my fists clenched. "What, are you trying to get me in trouble?" Duke chuckled.
"A fine way to pay your respects to your grandfather, gawking at girls," he replied, shaking his head disapprovingly. Then, as if he knew what I had in mind to ask, added: "That was Elli, the daughter at the bakery. I know you think she's cute, but try to pay attention to the ceremony and not her! You hear me?"
"I hear you," I muttered, although making a mental note of visiting the village bakery sometime soon. I guess I had been paying a little too much attention to the women, but that wasn't very unusual for me. I may not look like it, but I was quite the ladies' man in the city, having once dated three girls in two weeks. "You still didn't have to put me through all that, though."
"Put you through what?" Duke sneered, "I didn't put you through anything. Besides, none of the villagers will remember you and the hubbub you just caused when you leave with your father for the city this afternoon and...say, where is your father, anyway?" He gave me a curious glance.
At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. Leaving? Me? Of course not. I was going to stay and take over the farm, didn't he know? I opened my mouth to tell him so, but shut it again when I realized the answer to that was…no, he didn't. No one in the village knew. In all of yesterday's excitement, I had never thought about telling the townspeople about my plans to take over the Moondrop Farm.
"M-My father?" I stammered. "He…um…he left for the city yesterday" Duke raised an eyebrow.
"He's left? Without paying his last respects to Tony and without you?" he said, his voice full of surprise and disbelief. I nodded.
"Yeah…he had some emergency with his…uh…business back home and decided to leave a little early." Dad was a corporate executive for some notions company in the city.
"Well, he could've stuck around until after the funeral," Duke murmured. I nodded again in agreement and decided to leave it at that. There was no point in breaking the news to him now. Knowing Duke, he would probably just cause another commotion that would not only take away from Grandpa's memory but also give the villagers a really bad first impression of me. And, I thought, sulking against the wall, thanks to Duke, they already didn't take too kindly to me.
***
The funeral ended at the south side of the village, where the graveyard was. As the coffin was slowly lowered into its grave, the procession was serenaded by a sweet hymn sung by a pretty pink-haired girl. She did have a nice voice, like the pleasant tune of the nightingale, and as the last notes of the melody faded away, even I was compelled to wipe away the tears that had slowly but surely crept down my face during the song. Grandpa had been so dear…so important to me, even though I hardly ever saw him during the course of my life. The hymn reminded me of all the good summers I spent on the farm; of all the times Grandpa had tucked me into bed before telling me a long and wondrous story about farm life...of how much he'll be missed by everyone in the village.
"Hey," Duke said, " There's no more to see, Ryan. Let's go home, now, shall we?" He prodded me in the arm, but I didn't budge. Many of the townspeople were already leaving, but the funeral wasn't quite done. Several anonymous men were now shoveling dirt onto the grave, and I wanted to remain exactly where I was until every single procedure was finished. The mayor would be staying behind as well to oversee the last duties of the men, and I had a few matters to settle with him.
"You go ahead," I murmured. "I'll be staying behind a little bit longer." Duke nodded and headed back towards the inn, looking over his shoulder as he went, as if to see if I was still there. I knew he was only worried about me, but right then I just wanted to be alone.
When the burial was done, the men picked up their tools and drove away in their little truck back to wherever they came from. The mayor also prepared to leave it seemed, fixing his top hat to sit at a jaunty position on his head and straightening his bow tie. (Apparently he put much emphasis on his appearance, for he was doing the same thing throughout the whole funeral, I noticed.) I caught up to him just as he was walking away from the graveyard.
"Um, excuse me? Mr. Mayor?" I asked hesitantly, not sure about the proper way to address someone of his authority. The mayor turned to face me, and it was then that I noticed his strangely shaped nose, which was quite big and red like a clown's. I have to admit, it was very difficult to keep from staring.
"Yes?" he asked, brushing front of his burgundy suit. He was a short, stocky man, who stood about half a foot shorter than I did, so that I had to keep looking down to speak to him.
"I...um, sorry to bother you, but I have something to discuss with you. It involves the Moondrop Farm," I said stiffly. The mayor nodded, although he was busy rummaging through his coat pocket.
"Please continue," he said, finally pulling out a gold pocket watch engraved with diamonds. As I watched, he began wiping the face of the watch, occasionally lifting it over his head to look at it in the dim sunlight that managed to penetrate the dull cloud cover hanging over the village. "Are you one of the construction workers that were supposed to come talk to me yesterday?"
My jaw dropped. "Construction workers?" I cried. I liked this so-called mayor less and less every second. How can a person be so...so...thickheaded? "I came to you about my grandfather's farm, not some construction project!"
"Oh? So you're not one of the construction workers...then what business do you have with me? And you are you, anyway?" The mayor finally finished looking at his watch and dropped it back in his pocket. He seemed a bit irked at being held up, as there was a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"I-I'm Ryan Hayes. Tony's grandson," I stammered, yearning to get this conversation over with. "I came to talk to you about—"
"Ah, yes...Ryan," the mayor interrupted, "Sasha told me about you. I guess now that the funeral is over, you and your father will be heading back to the city now, eh? Well, have a safe trip, young Ryan and I'm so sorry for your loss." He turned on his heel and started walking away, not looking sorry for me at all. (I think my "interruption" at the church might have tarnished his opinion of me. Actually, I'm not sure if he had ever thought highly of me in the first place. Or whether he thought of me at all.)
"Er...Hey, wait!" I cried. But he didn't stop, apparently not giving a damn about what I had to say. It was only until I stepped in front of him to block his way that he relented and, once again, asked what business I had with him.
"I'm a very busy man, you know," he added, annoyance dripping from every syllable. "Why don't you just go home and leave me be? I'm sure a city boy like you would be better off where you belong—in the city." (Either he had something against city dwellers or he was really distraught at being held up.)
"But that's what I came to talk to you about!" I shrieked, frustration finally taking its toll, "I'm NOT going back to the city. My father and I talked this over yesterday and decided that I would take over the Moondrop Farm!" The mayor stared at me wide-eyed, seemingly shocked at my outburst.
"My, my, what a temper," I heard him murmur, after which I took a deep breath and continued, calmer this time:
"I want to take over the Moondrop Farm. I already have my father's permission. Now I need yours." And I decided to leave it that. Like Grandpa used to tell me, it was best to keep things "short and sweet, and not to repeat things thrice over."
"Well, well..." The mayor put a finger to his chin. At once I sensed something was wrong, for he looked a bit uncomfortable. I suspected that it might have been my choice of words. I had been talking a little harshly in my aggravation...what if he took it the wrong way?
"Is something wrong?" I asked, after a moment or two of silence. The mayor shook his head, but looked concerned nonetheless.
"No, no...nothing is wrong," he said softly. "It's just that...you see, the villagers would have preferred to have kept the farm, but since no one in the town was willing to take over the farm..." He paused and looked down at his polished shoes. Whatever he was going to tell me, it definitely wasn't something I was going to like, for he was doing everything in his power to keep his eyes from meeting mine.
"What is it?" I asked, bracing myself for his answer. The mayor mumbled something in a tone that was barely audible.
"I'm glad I finally found someone willing to take over the task of reviving the farm...it was our main source of income before your grandfather became ill," he started, shuffling his feet. "But...I'm afraid it's too late...we held a village council late last night...you weren't there...no one claimed the farm...we decided to tear it down to make room for another shop. A supermarket, to be exact—"
"WHAT?" I screeched, so loudly that the mayor had to cover his ears. I couldn't believe what I was hearing—the farm being torn down to make room for some dumb supermarket? Without the family's permission? The words flew out before I had a chance to hold them back:
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME? YOU'RE THE MAYOR OF THIS TOWN! WHEN SOMEONE DIES, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO ASK HIS KIN ABOUT WHAT TO DO WITH THE PROPERTY!" I screamed, trembling in my rage. The mayor winced and slowly edged away from me.
"I'm dreadfully sorry," he said tremulously, "but I don't know what to do about the situation. The contract has already been signed and construction begins in a year—that's why I asked if you were one of the construction workers when you first approached me about your grandfather's farm." He shook his head sorrowfully, and it was then that I almost started to feel guilty about yelling at him before. He really did seemed sorry, after all.
"Well, that's just great," I muttered. My hopes of living in the country had just been dashed.
"There is one bit of hope, however," the mayor piped in. I was intrigued to listen, despite the fact that I'd already had enough letdowns for one day—and this "one bit of hope," as the mayor put it, was most likely going to be another one.
"Go on," I sighed. The mayor nodded and continued:
"Like I said, the villagers would prefer it if the farm stayed," he rambled on. "Perhaps I could figure out some sort of compromise with the construction company...it's not likely, but I will try." He gave me a pitiful glance before muttering a short goodbye and shuffling away to wherever he was going, leaving me alone at the edge of the dismal graveyard. I didn't go after him this time, however. I could only stare after him, utterly convinced that I had the worst luck of any man on earth.
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OK, just to let you guys know, I've never been to a funeral, so I wasn't really sure of the procedures. Sorry if anything was inaccurate. The last part might have seemed corny, and I think the mayor was a bit out of character. I will try to work on that in my later chapters. I took a bit of the storyline from STH, but that's only so that our poor Ryan will have some sort of goal besides his wanting to prove himself to his father, etc. The story will still be mainly N64, though, so don't worry!
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Chapter Three: Grandpa's Wake
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Hey, I'm back again with another chapter, although this one is a little shorter. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, since I worked on this instead of finishing my art homework. ^_~ Unlike what I said last time, this chapter is not called "The First Seeds"—that's the next chapter. (I sorta changed my mind about the sequence of events.) And only a handful of characters make an appearance. Sorry about that.
============================================================================ ===================
After Dad left for the ferry, I went for a survey of the farm, ecstatic and happy at the fact that all of it was mine; the fields, the barn, the henhouse and the cabin all belonged to me, as did the withered Moondrop flowers, the broken fence that surrounded the empty pasture, and the rocks and weeds that littered the field. The farm was a mess, that was for sure, and would need a lot of cleaning up before most people would even consider it profitable, but I was up to the challenge. If Grandpa could handle the farm, then I sure as hell could, especially now that I didn't have my father as an obstacle. With these thoughts, I retrieved my luggage from the road where I had left it and made my way inside the old cabin.
The first thing I saw when I stepped inside was the pieces of the bowl I had shattered the day before. They lay scattered on the wooden floor, the rays of the late afternoon sun glinting off the shards. Sighing, for I had totally forgotten to clean them up, I swept the debris against the wall with one foot before proceeding to examine the rest of my new home.
It was a very plain, dirty old room, with the only modern furnishing being a very old model of a television set lying next to the nightstand. Everything else was obsolete; the floor and walls were covered with a thin film of dust, and the bed appeared to be on the verge of falling apart. The nightstand in-between the table and bed, and the low table standing at the center of room looked as if they were half-eaten by termites, which was probably the case, I thought, as I examined a worn out portion of the table leg. There appeared to be no sign of any other rooms, not even a kitchen or bathroom.
"Oh great," I muttered, thinking about how I was going to shower or relieve myself when I needed to. Not to mention, how was I going to eat? Sighing, I flopped casually onto the bed and drew out a half-eaten granola bar from my pocket. It was the only piece of food I had with me, but since I was hungry and didn't feel like going back to the village for rations, I decided I was better off eating it now rather than starving to death. Throwing the wrapper aside (there didn't seem to be a garbage can nearby), I settled in comfortably in the deep folds of the mattress and bit into the dull flavor of oatmeal and raisins.
After swallowing the last of the granola (It only took three bites to finish), I lay back comfortably on the soft pillow and pulled my cap down over my eyes. As much as the idea of reviving the farm excited me, I was dead tired from the events of the day and desperately needed rest. "So, why not turn in for the night?" I thought, closing my eyes. It didn't take long for me to drift to sleep; I never was much of an insomniac, and today was no exception. Within seconds, I was in a deep slumber.
…Only later did I realize I was lying on what was once a deathbed.
***
The next morning, the entire village was gathered at the church for Grandpa's funeral. It was a dismal ceremony, with many of the townspeople going up to the altar to read eulogies that brought tears to everyone's eyes. Even the pastor, who was reputed never to have shed a tear at any of the rites he held, was caught sobbing during the ceremony. Most people were.
I arrived at the church just as the funeral began. The place was packed—there was hardly enough room to do even the simplest of actions, or even to move at all. I had a hell of a tough time edging my way through the crowd to stand next to the only familiar face: Duke, who seemed a bit disgruntled at the fact that all the pews were filled, and that he had to stand near the back of the church being jostled and shoved by everyone around him.
"Was Grandpa really this popular?" I whispered as I came to stand beside him. Duke nodded and put a finger to his lips. "Be quiet and listen to Pastor Brown!" he hissed, motioning to the altar, where the chubby pastor was speaking to the congregation. I sighed and leaned nonchalantly against the whitewashed walls. Silence was imperative to the solemn atmosphere of church, although the people in front of me, who were squabbling over seats, seemed not to notice. I shook my head at them in disgust. They showed absolutely no respect towards the church or Grandpa. Duke seemed to think so too, as he eyed the bickering bunch with a look that clearly suggested that they'd better shut up, lest they face his wrath.
The ceremony dragged on. One by one, the villagers went up to the altar to say a few kind words, and one by one they returned to their seats, eyes brimming with tears. A VERY fat man clad in a purple suit talked about Grandpa's remarkable talent for cooking, while the mayor's wife, Anna, rambled on about his excellent participation in the town's special events. Out of all the people who spoke, however, the one who made the greatest impression in my mind was a young girl with chin-length brown hair, who called Grandpa a man "whose greatness was only surpassed by his kindness" before breaking down in tears, whereupon the mayor (Duke had pointed him out to me) came and escorted her away. Of course, I noticed that she was definitely cute, and watched her as she returned to her seat until Duke noticed my gaze and slapped me hard on the back of the head.
"OW! What was that for?" I cried, so loudly that the entire congregation turned to stare, annoyance etched on all of their faces, including the brown-haired girl I had been watching just a few seconds before. Pastor Brown looked up from reading his eulogy and said:
"Please, sir, will you not disturb us?" His voice was as sharp as a double- edged blade. I rubbed the back of my head in a sheepish fashion and nodded.
"Yes, of course...I apologize," I said, shooting a nasty glare at Duke, who immediately stepped aside as if he had had no part in this.
"Very well then." The pastor continued to speak, and everyone's attention soon returned to him. I gave Duke a small shove, nearly knocking him into two school-age boys, who back away from us like the plague.
"What was that for?" I hissed, my fists clenched. "What, are you trying to get me in trouble?" Duke chuckled.
"A fine way to pay your respects to your grandfather, gawking at girls," he replied, shaking his head disapprovingly. Then, as if he knew what I had in mind to ask, added: "That was Elli, the daughter at the bakery. I know you think she's cute, but try to pay attention to the ceremony and not her! You hear me?"
"I hear you," I muttered, although making a mental note of visiting the village bakery sometime soon. I guess I had been paying a little too much attention to the women, but that wasn't very unusual for me. I may not look like it, but I was quite the ladies' man in the city, having once dated three girls in two weeks. "You still didn't have to put me through all that, though."
"Put you through what?" Duke sneered, "I didn't put you through anything. Besides, none of the villagers will remember you and the hubbub you just caused when you leave with your father for the city this afternoon and...say, where is your father, anyway?" He gave me a curious glance.
At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. Leaving? Me? Of course not. I was going to stay and take over the farm, didn't he know? I opened my mouth to tell him so, but shut it again when I realized the answer to that was…no, he didn't. No one in the village knew. In all of yesterday's excitement, I had never thought about telling the townspeople about my plans to take over the Moondrop Farm.
"M-My father?" I stammered. "He…um…he left for the city yesterday" Duke raised an eyebrow.
"He's left? Without paying his last respects to Tony and without you?" he said, his voice full of surprise and disbelief. I nodded.
"Yeah…he had some emergency with his…uh…business back home and decided to leave a little early." Dad was a corporate executive for some notions company in the city.
"Well, he could've stuck around until after the funeral," Duke murmured. I nodded again in agreement and decided to leave it at that. There was no point in breaking the news to him now. Knowing Duke, he would probably just cause another commotion that would not only take away from Grandpa's memory but also give the villagers a really bad first impression of me. And, I thought, sulking against the wall, thanks to Duke, they already didn't take too kindly to me.
***
The funeral ended at the south side of the village, where the graveyard was. As the coffin was slowly lowered into its grave, the procession was serenaded by a sweet hymn sung by a pretty pink-haired girl. She did have a nice voice, like the pleasant tune of the nightingale, and as the last notes of the melody faded away, even I was compelled to wipe away the tears that had slowly but surely crept down my face during the song. Grandpa had been so dear…so important to me, even though I hardly ever saw him during the course of my life. The hymn reminded me of all the good summers I spent on the farm; of all the times Grandpa had tucked me into bed before telling me a long and wondrous story about farm life...of how much he'll be missed by everyone in the village.
"Hey," Duke said, " There's no more to see, Ryan. Let's go home, now, shall we?" He prodded me in the arm, but I didn't budge. Many of the townspeople were already leaving, but the funeral wasn't quite done. Several anonymous men were now shoveling dirt onto the grave, and I wanted to remain exactly where I was until every single procedure was finished. The mayor would be staying behind as well to oversee the last duties of the men, and I had a few matters to settle with him.
"You go ahead," I murmured. "I'll be staying behind a little bit longer." Duke nodded and headed back towards the inn, looking over his shoulder as he went, as if to see if I was still there. I knew he was only worried about me, but right then I just wanted to be alone.
When the burial was done, the men picked up their tools and drove away in their little truck back to wherever they came from. The mayor also prepared to leave it seemed, fixing his top hat to sit at a jaunty position on his head and straightening his bow tie. (Apparently he put much emphasis on his appearance, for he was doing the same thing throughout the whole funeral, I noticed.) I caught up to him just as he was walking away from the graveyard.
"Um, excuse me? Mr. Mayor?" I asked hesitantly, not sure about the proper way to address someone of his authority. The mayor turned to face me, and it was then that I noticed his strangely shaped nose, which was quite big and red like a clown's. I have to admit, it was very difficult to keep from staring.
"Yes?" he asked, brushing front of his burgundy suit. He was a short, stocky man, who stood about half a foot shorter than I did, so that I had to keep looking down to speak to him.
"I...um, sorry to bother you, but I have something to discuss with you. It involves the Moondrop Farm," I said stiffly. The mayor nodded, although he was busy rummaging through his coat pocket.
"Please continue," he said, finally pulling out a gold pocket watch engraved with diamonds. As I watched, he began wiping the face of the watch, occasionally lifting it over his head to look at it in the dim sunlight that managed to penetrate the dull cloud cover hanging over the village. "Are you one of the construction workers that were supposed to come talk to me yesterday?"
My jaw dropped. "Construction workers?" I cried. I liked this so-called mayor less and less every second. How can a person be so...so...thickheaded? "I came to you about my grandfather's farm, not some construction project!"
"Oh? So you're not one of the construction workers...then what business do you have with me? And you are you, anyway?" The mayor finally finished looking at his watch and dropped it back in his pocket. He seemed a bit irked at being held up, as there was a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"I-I'm Ryan Hayes. Tony's grandson," I stammered, yearning to get this conversation over with. "I came to talk to you about—"
"Ah, yes...Ryan," the mayor interrupted, "Sasha told me about you. I guess now that the funeral is over, you and your father will be heading back to the city now, eh? Well, have a safe trip, young Ryan and I'm so sorry for your loss." He turned on his heel and started walking away, not looking sorry for me at all. (I think my "interruption" at the church might have tarnished his opinion of me. Actually, I'm not sure if he had ever thought highly of me in the first place. Or whether he thought of me at all.)
"Er...Hey, wait!" I cried. But he didn't stop, apparently not giving a damn about what I had to say. It was only until I stepped in front of him to block his way that he relented and, once again, asked what business I had with him.
"I'm a very busy man, you know," he added, annoyance dripping from every syllable. "Why don't you just go home and leave me be? I'm sure a city boy like you would be better off where you belong—in the city." (Either he had something against city dwellers or he was really distraught at being held up.)
"But that's what I came to talk to you about!" I shrieked, frustration finally taking its toll, "I'm NOT going back to the city. My father and I talked this over yesterday and decided that I would take over the Moondrop Farm!" The mayor stared at me wide-eyed, seemingly shocked at my outburst.
"My, my, what a temper," I heard him murmur, after which I took a deep breath and continued, calmer this time:
"I want to take over the Moondrop Farm. I already have my father's permission. Now I need yours." And I decided to leave it that. Like Grandpa used to tell me, it was best to keep things "short and sweet, and not to repeat things thrice over."
"Well, well..." The mayor put a finger to his chin. At once I sensed something was wrong, for he looked a bit uncomfortable. I suspected that it might have been my choice of words. I had been talking a little harshly in my aggravation...what if he took it the wrong way?
"Is something wrong?" I asked, after a moment or two of silence. The mayor shook his head, but looked concerned nonetheless.
"No, no...nothing is wrong," he said softly. "It's just that...you see, the villagers would have preferred to have kept the farm, but since no one in the town was willing to take over the farm..." He paused and looked down at his polished shoes. Whatever he was going to tell me, it definitely wasn't something I was going to like, for he was doing everything in his power to keep his eyes from meeting mine.
"What is it?" I asked, bracing myself for his answer. The mayor mumbled something in a tone that was barely audible.
"I'm glad I finally found someone willing to take over the task of reviving the farm...it was our main source of income before your grandfather became ill," he started, shuffling his feet. "But...I'm afraid it's too late...we held a village council late last night...you weren't there...no one claimed the farm...we decided to tear it down to make room for another shop. A supermarket, to be exact—"
"WHAT?" I screeched, so loudly that the mayor had to cover his ears. I couldn't believe what I was hearing—the farm being torn down to make room for some dumb supermarket? Without the family's permission? The words flew out before I had a chance to hold them back:
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME? YOU'RE THE MAYOR OF THIS TOWN! WHEN SOMEONE DIES, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO ASK HIS KIN ABOUT WHAT TO DO WITH THE PROPERTY!" I screamed, trembling in my rage. The mayor winced and slowly edged away from me.
"I'm dreadfully sorry," he said tremulously, "but I don't know what to do about the situation. The contract has already been signed and construction begins in a year—that's why I asked if you were one of the construction workers when you first approached me about your grandfather's farm." He shook his head sorrowfully, and it was then that I almost started to feel guilty about yelling at him before. He really did seemed sorry, after all.
"Well, that's just great," I muttered. My hopes of living in the country had just been dashed.
"There is one bit of hope, however," the mayor piped in. I was intrigued to listen, despite the fact that I'd already had enough letdowns for one day—and this "one bit of hope," as the mayor put it, was most likely going to be another one.
"Go on," I sighed. The mayor nodded and continued:
"Like I said, the villagers would prefer it if the farm stayed," he rambled on. "Perhaps I could figure out some sort of compromise with the construction company...it's not likely, but I will try." He gave me a pitiful glance before muttering a short goodbye and shuffling away to wherever he was going, leaving me alone at the edge of the dismal graveyard. I didn't go after him this time, however. I could only stare after him, utterly convinced that I had the worst luck of any man on earth.
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OK, just to let you guys know, I've never been to a funeral, so I wasn't really sure of the procedures. Sorry if anything was inaccurate. The last part might have seemed corny, and I think the mayor was a bit out of character. I will try to work on that in my later chapters. I took a bit of the storyline from STH, but that's only so that our poor Ryan will have some sort of goal besides his wanting to prove himself to his father, etc. The story will still be mainly N64, though, so don't worry!
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