PREFACE
Now. Since this is the 21st Century, I had to recreate the surroundings of the story in a quite peculiar way in order to fit both the Era of where the story takes place and where we are in Reality. So, technically, you may place this Story under the Modern-Fantasy Section of One's collection of books. br A long, long time ago.Nah. Not a "long, long time ago" that everyone thinks it is, just back in 1986. Granted that is a "long" time ago, but that is beside the point. Now, oddly enough, this happens to be in Connaught province of Ireland. The city of Mayo (okay, maybe not a city, but a rather big town) was filled with your not-your-stereo-typical Irish folk. But filled with the descendants of the Welsh, Belgian, and Scottish clans. So of course they drank and partied like it was 1999, but that is completely beside the point. Now, a ranch foreman for a fruit farm had a lovely-looking.son. Not a daughter; a son by the name of Chance. Nineteen years of age. Eyes of a new brown-bear cub's fur skin as pale as a newly glazed doughnut, and hair.hair.it was a rather strange looking thing. It was radiant and as golden as the Dawn's Ray, but.it.it was flopped over. As if a gust of wind messed it up and he accidentally gelled that hair-do, but he meant this way. Ah.he was a Flock of Seagulls fan, now we understand. brAhem. So this lovely young man was not truly handsome, but his quirks are what made him handsome. One morning, he was out in the orange orchards, like he usually is when he is not helping picking the fruits or anything of the sorts. About two tree lines down from him, he heard raised voices, as if arguing to each other. br ".But Sir. I do not think that even if the lacking of work we have done for the past week, we cannot get rid of anyone from our aid." br "Now, Foreman Jack, you know just as well as I do that Duke Alexander needs someone from our farm to help him with his orchards at his manor." br "I know, Sir. I just do not know who we are able to give up." br The voices that drifted away belonged to Chance's father and the owner of the orchard farm. Chance knew that it was tradition that the Duke always "borrowed" one of the workers from the farms around the province.he just assumed that this year, he wants a orchard worker. br Later that day, about in the early afternoon now, Chance was in his room of the Foreman's ranch house.singing.but not too well. br "We've got the bubble-headed bleach-blonde comes on at five. She can tell you about the plane crash with a gleam in her eye. It's interesting when people die, give us dirty laundry." br Yes. It was Don Henley, the former drummer of the Eagles. Neh, Chance was just plain weird anyways. So, when he finally relaxed upon his bed, he turned off his radio, and then turned on the Television to MTV with his remote controller. br "Man. Somehow I always miss Duran Duran. I hate when that happens." br He likes to talk to himself often, as well. He sighed and just simply watched the TV. For a moment, he thought that he was hearing things as he slowly drifted off to sleep, but his small moment of sleep was interrupted by a big thud by his door. The door then opened widely and his father came in, watching him intently. br "Chance," his father sighed, and then sat down at the foot of his bed, "This is not going to be easy for me." br Chance sat up on his bed and knitted his brows in confusion. br "What is going on, Dad?" br "Chance. You know how the Duke chooses a worker from the farms each year, right?" br Chance gently nodded, keeping quiet. br "Well.this year he wanted an orchard worker.and." Foreman Jack simply looked down to his feet for a moment. br Chance blinked, glancing out towards the door, seeing that the object that made the thud was his trunk. He then glared over to his dad and stood up from his bed; enraged. br "Why me, Dad? I work just as hard as any others do here! You cannot give me to the stinky Duke!" br "Chance. This is just as hard for me as it is for you. But you have to remember; you are half of the other men's age. And I cannot go. I am the foreman. Chance. Please? Do this for me?" br Chance was still angry with his father, but he knew that he couldn't say 'no' to his own father. br "All right. I'll go." Chance said grudgily. br "Good. Thank you." With that, Foreman Jack slowly stood up and gave Chance a gentle kiss on his forehead and patted his head, walking towards the door. br "I will miss you, Chance." Foreman Jack looked back at him for a moment then walked out of his room. br Chance dragged his trunk into his room and slammed the door behind him. He sighed and sat upon the bed. br "Stinking Duke." With that, Chance stood back up and started unlocking his trunk to pack. br Chapter 2 br The afternoon of the next day. A rather dismal-looking day; overcasts, clouds, and quite breezy weather. Chance slowly drifted off into daydream as his father started talking about the history of Duke Alexander's family and history. Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda. The rather usual history of dukes.but one thing caught Chance's attention out of his daydream. He quickly snapped out of it and glanced over at his father as he continued to speak. br ".Has a son about your age, maybe a year younger. I do not remember. I think his name is Joshua. I am quite sure that you two will get along quite well. Now. Let's see. I think.yes. It is over here." Foreman Jack said as he turned the steering wheel about to make the car turn. br Chance looked back out through the window and actually was in slight awe with the manor. br Rather an antique looking place, but beautiful all in all. Gardens of many, cobble stoned roads, and a gazebo to cover the front door from the rain. The manor itself looked as if made in the middle ages, maybe earlier. br Foreman Jack parked the car under the gazebo, where it is big enough to place three parked SUVs side-by-side. Chance, still in his trance of the manor, got snapped out of it when Foreman Jack shook him. br "Chance. I am going to see if your room is ready or no." br Not even waiting for Chance to respond, Foreman Jack got out of the car and ran up to the door. br Chance saw a rather middle-aged man at the door; he did look rather butlery. Hearing nothing of what his father and the butler are speaking about, he simply sat there. Until his father gestured him out of the car. With that, Chance got out of the car and grabbed his backpack as if his 'carry-on' luggage. While he was walking towards the door, his dad was walking back to the car to grab his stuff. They both glanced at each other for a moment, and then started walking as they were. Once Chance got into the Manor, he was even more in awe than before. br One would think that being a duke would have rather a prim-and-proper house, but no. This was rather, homely, comfortable to live in. The main hall was not decorated with fancy chandeliers nor towering taxied animals; but with art. Not art like Picasso or Monet, but.Andy Warhol?? And Olu Adeniyi. Strange portraits, but interesting all in all. And the floor was not marble or wooden, but linoleum. Very strange. A duke who reigns over a province, and he has linoleum as floor? br iEither he is very cheap or he likes to lives rather a functional life/i, Chance thought.
Now. Since this is the 21st Century, I had to recreate the surroundings of the story in a quite peculiar way in order to fit both the Era of where the story takes place and where we are in Reality. So, technically, you may place this Story under the Modern-Fantasy Section of One's collection of books. br A long, long time ago.Nah. Not a "long, long time ago" that everyone thinks it is, just back in 1986. Granted that is a "long" time ago, but that is beside the point. Now, oddly enough, this happens to be in Connaught province of Ireland. The city of Mayo (okay, maybe not a city, but a rather big town) was filled with your not-your-stereo-typical Irish folk. But filled with the descendants of the Welsh, Belgian, and Scottish clans. So of course they drank and partied like it was 1999, but that is completely beside the point. Now, a ranch foreman for a fruit farm had a lovely-looking.son. Not a daughter; a son by the name of Chance. Nineteen years of age. Eyes of a new brown-bear cub's fur skin as pale as a newly glazed doughnut, and hair.hair.it was a rather strange looking thing. It was radiant and as golden as the Dawn's Ray, but.it.it was flopped over. As if a gust of wind messed it up and he accidentally gelled that hair-do, but he meant this way. Ah.he was a Flock of Seagulls fan, now we understand. brAhem. So this lovely young man was not truly handsome, but his quirks are what made him handsome. One morning, he was out in the orange orchards, like he usually is when he is not helping picking the fruits or anything of the sorts. About two tree lines down from him, he heard raised voices, as if arguing to each other. br ".But Sir. I do not think that even if the lacking of work we have done for the past week, we cannot get rid of anyone from our aid." br "Now, Foreman Jack, you know just as well as I do that Duke Alexander needs someone from our farm to help him with his orchards at his manor." br "I know, Sir. I just do not know who we are able to give up." br The voices that drifted away belonged to Chance's father and the owner of the orchard farm. Chance knew that it was tradition that the Duke always "borrowed" one of the workers from the farms around the province.he just assumed that this year, he wants a orchard worker. br Later that day, about in the early afternoon now, Chance was in his room of the Foreman's ranch house.singing.but not too well. br "We've got the bubble-headed bleach-blonde comes on at five. She can tell you about the plane crash with a gleam in her eye. It's interesting when people die, give us dirty laundry." br Yes. It was Don Henley, the former drummer of the Eagles. Neh, Chance was just plain weird anyways. So, when he finally relaxed upon his bed, he turned off his radio, and then turned on the Television to MTV with his remote controller. br "Man. Somehow I always miss Duran Duran. I hate when that happens." br He likes to talk to himself often, as well. He sighed and just simply watched the TV. For a moment, he thought that he was hearing things as he slowly drifted off to sleep, but his small moment of sleep was interrupted by a big thud by his door. The door then opened widely and his father came in, watching him intently. br "Chance," his father sighed, and then sat down at the foot of his bed, "This is not going to be easy for me." br Chance sat up on his bed and knitted his brows in confusion. br "What is going on, Dad?" br "Chance. You know how the Duke chooses a worker from the farms each year, right?" br Chance gently nodded, keeping quiet. br "Well.this year he wanted an orchard worker.and." Foreman Jack simply looked down to his feet for a moment. br Chance blinked, glancing out towards the door, seeing that the object that made the thud was his trunk. He then glared over to his dad and stood up from his bed; enraged. br "Why me, Dad? I work just as hard as any others do here! You cannot give me to the stinky Duke!" br "Chance. This is just as hard for me as it is for you. But you have to remember; you are half of the other men's age. And I cannot go. I am the foreman. Chance. Please? Do this for me?" br Chance was still angry with his father, but he knew that he couldn't say 'no' to his own father. br "All right. I'll go." Chance said grudgily. br "Good. Thank you." With that, Foreman Jack slowly stood up and gave Chance a gentle kiss on his forehead and patted his head, walking towards the door. br "I will miss you, Chance." Foreman Jack looked back at him for a moment then walked out of his room. br Chance dragged his trunk into his room and slammed the door behind him. He sighed and sat upon the bed. br "Stinking Duke." With that, Chance stood back up and started unlocking his trunk to pack. br Chapter 2 br The afternoon of the next day. A rather dismal-looking day; overcasts, clouds, and quite breezy weather. Chance slowly drifted off into daydream as his father started talking about the history of Duke Alexander's family and history. Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda. The rather usual history of dukes.but one thing caught Chance's attention out of his daydream. He quickly snapped out of it and glanced over at his father as he continued to speak. br ".Has a son about your age, maybe a year younger. I do not remember. I think his name is Joshua. I am quite sure that you two will get along quite well. Now. Let's see. I think.yes. It is over here." Foreman Jack said as he turned the steering wheel about to make the car turn. br Chance looked back out through the window and actually was in slight awe with the manor. br Rather an antique looking place, but beautiful all in all. Gardens of many, cobble stoned roads, and a gazebo to cover the front door from the rain. The manor itself looked as if made in the middle ages, maybe earlier. br Foreman Jack parked the car under the gazebo, where it is big enough to place three parked SUVs side-by-side. Chance, still in his trance of the manor, got snapped out of it when Foreman Jack shook him. br "Chance. I am going to see if your room is ready or no." br Not even waiting for Chance to respond, Foreman Jack got out of the car and ran up to the door. br Chance saw a rather middle-aged man at the door; he did look rather butlery. Hearing nothing of what his father and the butler are speaking about, he simply sat there. Until his father gestured him out of the car. With that, Chance got out of the car and grabbed his backpack as if his 'carry-on' luggage. While he was walking towards the door, his dad was walking back to the car to grab his stuff. They both glanced at each other for a moment, and then started walking as they were. Once Chance got into the Manor, he was even more in awe than before. br One would think that being a duke would have rather a prim-and-proper house, but no. This was rather, homely, comfortable to live in. The main hall was not decorated with fancy chandeliers nor towering taxied animals; but with art. Not art like Picasso or Monet, but.Andy Warhol?? And Olu Adeniyi. Strange portraits, but interesting all in all. And the floor was not marble or wooden, but linoleum. Very strange. A duke who reigns over a province, and he has linoleum as floor? br iEither he is very cheap or he likes to lives rather a functional life/i, Chance thought.