Harvest Moon: The Yellow Bird
by AcinBC

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harvest Moon. I do not own any lyrics that are written, and if I do, I will say so. I do no own the album or any of the songs this story is based on. I do not own any of the characters, just the situations I put them in and the personalities I give them.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for the two-month delay. With school starting in August and all of my extracurricular activities and homework and such, I have had barely any time to work on this story. I also apologize for how short this chapter is. I had proposed it to be around four thousand words, yet it turned out to be only two thousand. I guess I accomplished what I had tried to accomplish when I started this chapter, even with two thousand short words. Anyways, I would like to thank all of those who have added me as their favorite author, added this story as their favorite story, reviewed, and even just looked at the story; it really means a lot to me. I am glad you all like my vagueness and style of writing; personally, I thought it would drive readers off. Anyways, just so you know the story probably won't get any happier than this chapter does. It is separated into four sections because I combined songs. I also apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. I was so eager to get this chapter done I only proofread it once compared to my average of three times. I also apologize for any confusion. When I uploaded this chapter, only half of it uploaded, so I copied and pasted the rest. So, let me know if there are any parts that make no sense by emailing me at: correroa cox . net (without the spaces and with the 'at' symbol between correroa and cox).

I hope you all like this chapter.

Chapter 3:
An Old Soul Song (For the New World Order)

Part I: An Old Soul Song

Gray light, a new day, leaked through the window. An old soul song came on the alarm clock radio. Conner pulled himself up out of the queen-sized bed in his apartment and wiped his eyes. The morning felt brand new. The chilled breeze coming through the open window mixed comfortably with the warmth of the covers and the girl lying next to him. He leaned across her and turned off the alarm so she could sleep longer.

Conner got out of bed and stared longingly into her gorgeous features. Her soft, plush cheeks, her thin lips, her plump bosom rising with every inward breath of air rolling along with its own tempo; she was beautiful. Karen lay there in a tight light blue t-shirt and panties, although the covers sheltered her panties.

Conner yawned listlessly as he made his way into the kitchen. He wiped his eyes, fiddled with his hair, and pulled the ground coffee out of the freezer. He poured one-and-a-half scoops into a filter, placed it inside the coffee machine, poured water in, and turned it on. He sat down at his small, wooden kitchen table.

His New York flat was comfortable and could easily house one person as well as two. The kitchen contained the square table with two cheap, wooden chairs, a cheap refrigerator, the coffee pot, and cabinet space. The kitchen bled into a small living room with a couch that didn't match the rest of the poor atmosphere; this couch was actually hospitable. A cheap TV, sat in front of a coffee table that was in front of the couch, and a desk in the corner finished the living room. An opened door ran into the bedroom that contained a square window, a bed, an end table, a chest-of-drawers, and a small closet.

Part II: If Winter Ends

The days after his mother's funeral had really dragged Conner along slowly. He didn't do much. He spent the nights drinking, the mornings hung over, and the afternoons foraging so he would have enough money to do it again the next night. The passing citizens never said a word to him; they maybe mumbled a sentence to a friend or just grunted in displeasure at his lifestyle.

The days of Winter were moving along so slowly. Conner wore a plethora of clothes and plenty of covers at night as he slept. The chilly air blew threw the windows he left open.

One night Conner was dreaming. He dreamt of a fever, one to cure him of his cold, winter-set heart with a heat to melt all of his frozen tears. Although he had a tough shell, his inside was crying; depression was devouring all hope. His tears were cold and chilly as they ran down his cheeks. Whenever one's body starts shutting down and one loses all warmth the body should contain, one needs to take another sip of gin. This heat he dreamt of gave him reason to move on, reason to start again. The heat was overwhelming, shining brighter than the sun and consuming all of reality. This heat had a name; her name sounded off the town's lips, "drunk, drunk".

Conner woke with a start. The wind had gotten even colder, yet Conner felt a little bit of heat returning to his body. So, he shed one layer of clothing leaving him in an orange-red t-shirt, boxers, socks, and a thin, black choker around his neck. He ambled to his chest-of-drawers and pulled on some fading blue jeans. He grabbed a navy, zip-up hooded sweatshirt from his closet and pulled on his usual slip-on Converse. He headed out the door before checking the clock, 2:03 a.m.

Conner had no idea where was going; he just needed to get somewhere. He just plunged forward without a light to follow, but he knew he would follow anything if it could get him out of here.

As he walked with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, Conner recalled a conversation he had had with the mayor.
"We're giving you six months to adapt, and then two more to leave town if you must. And if in the event you do adapt, we, in other words, the citizens, may not want you around." He had said. Conner was infuriated with the fact that he couldn't live in his childhood town, not that he wanted to live there, but just the fact that his rights were being taken away from him really boiled his temper. So, Conner decided to fall for the promise of a life with a purpose. Although he new it would be hard, he wanted to prove everyone wrong, but he knew that it seemed impossible now.

Conner pulled himself up on top of a hill just outside of the main part of town. He pulled out a black, velvet flask with a silver chain and silver top. He unscrewed the chain and chugged some whiskey.

"So, are you just drinking to stay warm?" a calm voice asked from behind. Conner turned quickly and saw Karen stepping out behind some trees into the moonlight.

"And to kill selected memories," Conner wittily replied "because I just can't think anymore about that or about her tonight."

"Your mother?" Karen seemed a bit confused, but Conner nodded and things started making sense to her.

"I give myself three days to feel better," he mused aloud, more to himself than to Karen. "Or I swear I'll drive right off a fucking cliff. Because I can't make myself feel better, so how can I expect anyone else to give a shit?"

Karen nodded and sat down next to Conner. Her hair was held loosely against her head as the wind picked it up and played with it. The scent of lavender took hold of Conner, and he closed his eyes. She took the flask from his hand and sucked some of it down herself; her eyes started watering. Conner opened his eyes and rubbed some tears from his cheek.

"And I scream for the sunlight or a car to take me anywhere; just get me past this dead and eternal snow because I swear that I am dying, slowly, but it's happening." His hazy voice was shaking.

"And if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere; just take me there, and lie to me and say it's going to be alright." He shuddered as he wiped the rest of the tears away.

"It's going to be alright," Karen said softly as she rubbed his back. "Yeah, you worry too much, kid. It's going to be alright."

A high-pitched beeping broke Conner's reverie. He looked over and saw that the coffee pot was full. He stood up, grabbed a mug from a cabinet, and poured himself some coffee. He sat back down and sipped it delicately, letting the aroma and taste cool his senses. Mornings had always been the calmest time of day for Conner.

Part III: Act of Contrition

Conner had started the next day in a drunken reverie after spending a quiet evening on Mother's Hill with Karen. He was trying to recall what had happened; he couldn't remember what he had said. He was known to be a confessional drunk, which he hoped he hadn't been last night.

The air was all dust and not so untamed as the many days dragged by. The ground seemed like it had opened up and swallowed all of the rain from the past few weeks because Conner's seeds he had planted had grown splendidly. The turnips were ready for harvesting and the potatoes and cucumbers were almost ready, but with all of the time spent farming, the ground also seemed to have swallowed Karen too since Conner hadn't seen her in days.

As Conner was placing turnips into his shipping bin, a voice called out cheerily. "Conner!" Conner turned to see a radiant Ann walking towards him.

"Hey, Ann," he said.

"Hey, wow! These crops are coming along fantastically; you'll make a lot of money off of them."

"I'm just glad I can actually grow things. So, what'd you stop by for?"

"Well, I wanted to invite you to the Inn this evening. My father and I want to make a dinner for you."

"Thanks. I'll stop by. What time?"

"Come around seven." They said their goodbyes and then she departed.

At that same moment Karen was working at her family's supermarket. With the influx of semi-warm weather as Spring started moving along, she had been kept busy selling seeds nonstop. She barely had time to grab a drink before she went home to bed and crashed. Her friend Rick walked into the store, his eyes darting around at all the people before spotting Karen, giving her a wave, and walking towards her. His medium length orange hair fell loosely in front of his large glasses as he smiled. He was wearing a semi-dark green long-sleeved t-shirt with a blue apron.

"Hey, Karen," he started.

"Hey. Walk and talk," she commanded as she started reorganizing certain items.

"Well, since it is your mother's birthday, I was wondering if your mother, father, and you would like to come over to the farm for a birthday dinner celebration."

"Sure," she smiled, "my mother will love it!" Rick wiped his brown inconspicuously and said goodbye.

As night rolled around Doug and Ann had cooked a nice feast and so had Rick and his family. Conner was exiting his house at the same time as Karen left hers with her mother and father. She led them to Rick's home but said she wanted a minute outside. Conner stood outside the Inn and looked inside the windows, just as Karen did the same. The bright light shining out bathed their pale skin and turned them to ghosts looking in at the families and friends that had abandoned them after death. As they all sat down for dinner they waited for their last party member to get home. They all set a place for Conner and Karen respectively.

Conner turned from the window and walked briskly to Mother's Hill. He sat down near a tree and huddled around his cigarette to get warm. The sound of crunching grass caused Conner to try and make himself invisible. Karen walked into the moonlight with a book in her hands and started reading out of it. The light caused the velvet book to shine and the word 'Diary' could be seen written on the front of the book. A tear rolled down her cheek and gleamed in the moonlight.

"Don't believe everything that you read in that diary of yours," Conner said mistily. Karen jumped and turned. When she saw Conner, a feeble smile formed on her lips.

"How do you know what I'm reading in this diary?"

"Are you proposing that everyone is out to get you and that you have no way of maintaining a social life in that diary?" She nodded meekly.

"You know how you asked me if I wanted to leave town at the beginning of the season?"

"Yeah," Conner replied.

"I'm ready to take that trip. Let's go." Conner smiled without showing teeth and stood up. He handed the cigarette to her as he took the diary and tossed it into a tree. She took a few puffs before handing it back.

Half an hour later Conner was in the driver's seat of his car, heading north. His hands were shaking.

"Am I making you nervous?" She asked reticently.

"This nervousness, it isn't all your fault. It's just these shaking hands won't do what I want them to. Just like that act of contrition that rolled of our tongues as we left." He turned to look at her as the radio played discreetly in the background, just a static lullaby. A tear fell down her cheek.

"What're you crying for?" She shook her head and turned to look outside the passenger's window. She got comfortable and closed her eyes. Conner continued talking, more to himself than to her.

"Just dust my heart, and you will find there are no fingers printed there," he mumbled. "Just the untouched place that lies inside of every lonely boy tonight." He rolled the windows down to murder the awkward silence. She patted his arm.

"And all of this open air has caused me to choke on your new found hope for me," they said resignedly.

Part IV: For the New World Order

A slightly cool something touched Conner's shoulder, and he jumped. He turned to see Karen wearing one of his long-sleeved t-shirts to cover her body.

"Morning, sleepy head," Conner said with a smile. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure," she smiled. Man, is she beautiful, Conner thought to himself, even in the mornings. It looked like she had fiddled with her bed head hair before presenting herself in front of Conner, but she was radiant without her hair dolled up.

"So," Karen said after her coffee had been delivered to her. "What are today's plans?"

"Well, since I have no breakfast food, I was thinking we could go out for breakfast, and later I have something I really want to show on Third Street. Bring your camera."

"Okay, sounds good."

The two finished their coffee before heading downtown to a diner that served pastries and coffee. They had breakfast and then walked the forty blocks to the middle of the place Conner had heard that everything would be. They wore sweaters to block out the nippy weather, and Karen had her single-lens reflex fifty-one millimeter camera with its flash draped around her neck. As they approached the center of Third Street, the noise of a crowd took a hold of them so that they were required to shout to one another. Men and women of all ages were gathered holding signs with phrases condemning the war. Flash. She took the black-and-white picture of dedication. As they neared the middle of the crowd, a man pinned a ribbon to their sweaters. Flash. She took the black-and-white picture of beauty in the midst of ugliness. Karen instinctively grabbed Conner's hand (Flash. She took a picture of love) as they got behind the barricades that were there to keep the gatherers off the street, but the crowd kept pushing forward until they swallowed the police. Flash. She took a picture of human desperation and rebellion.

"Yeah, they went wild…" Karen whispered inaudibly as she clutched Conner's hand and stared out at the crowd screaming and revolting against the government. Flash. She took a picture of nervousness. It really was a beautiful site to see. The mass of people was rampaging, and Karen started shivering. Conner wrapped a red scarf around her neck and nodded. Flash. She took a picture of fear. He knew she wanted to go home.

They left before the dust had time to settle. All the broken glass was being swept off the avenue as the grim, gray sky hung over their heads. The crowd had departed to reek havoc elsewhere. And on the way home, Karen held her camera like a bible just wishing so bad that it held some kind of truth.

As they passed a photography store, Karen pulled Conner inside.

"May we use your darkroom?" The clerk nodded. Conner stood nervous next to Karen in the darkroom; as she dropped the paper in the water, it all began to bloom. The pictures were flowers cascading upward grabbing Conner and Karen and bringing them closer to one another.

"Yeah, they go wild…" they whispered together. They started repeating themselves each time they developed a picture.

"Yeah, they go wild!" Conner hollered as the pictures were finished. They exited the darkroom and headed home.

Before they had gone to bed the night before, Conner and Karen were staring at each other in the entryway of Conner's apartment. He smiled as he led her to his bedroom. The feeling was mutual as they undressed into the bare minimum. The room was freezing as the huddled together under the covers. Conner pulled Karen into his arms and held her. He kissed her cheek before she laid her head on his chest and fell asleep. Conner never did quite fall asleep. He spent the whole night stroking Karen's soft hair and watching her chest as it rose and fell delicately; it was his turn to be the strong one. The night dragged on slowly as he finally fell asleep.

With the photographs hung and plastered on easels around Conner as he sat on a chair clutching a trumpet and a guitar, Conner gave the concert to his audience. Karen and Conner had followed the crowd to its ending point in a park. The men and women were clutching each other and swaying side to side as Conner played a taps-like etude on his trumpet with the notes rising and falling mournfully. He laid the trumpet down and started strumming the guitar as he took a deep breath of air in and spotted Karen in the crowd.

"And just when I get so lonesome I can't speak! I see some flowers on the hillside like a wall of new TVs. Yeah, they go wild!" He repeated the last sentence several times as he strummed hard and angrily on the guitar, his voice breaking as the deafening and doleful shrieks emanated for miles.

"Yeah, they go wild," he finally whispered as he finished the song with a country twang added to the high notes that he had picked up from Mineral Town. Maybe he didn't know it yet, but the town was really growing on him.

A/N: I hope you all had a few "Aww! How cute!" moments. If not, then I hope you will later. I was just trying to establish Karen and Conner's relationship where they walk the thin line(s) between acquaintances, friends, and lovers with this chapter and show that maybe Conner does like Mineral Town. Thanks to all who review; I hope to have the next chapter up within two months.