In My Life- It's watching you.
Hey all. Let me answer reviews real quick. To pvc- I guess I'll be re-writing this here and there. The good part is that I've already got in mind what I want to fix. And to Terra89- I know, but I thought it would be nice to go back and tweak things. Thanks for the reviews, guys!
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Mineral Town was a true quaint beauty, nestled in the glorious mountains surrounding Mother's Hill, the highest pinnacle for miles. It looked a place only seen in books and movies, but a few people called it home. So few people, in fact, that everyone knew everything about their neighbors' affairs.
Makoto zoned in and out as Thomas took him through a tour of the back woods and Mother's Hill. The Mayor was sure to mention every bit of Mineral Town knowledge he knew, from when it was founded to contradictory tall tales of the first residents, and what Doug Flannery always cooked for his Sunday specials at the Inn. Then he went on to talk about the great people of Mineral Town's past. Makoto listened a bit to all the stories he could recall about the old man, but mostly caught the more exaggerated bits of information, such as: "He wrestled bears," and "He travelled very often to exotic locale because he knew so many interesting people.". Still, the Mayor made it a point, from time to time, to reiterate how much everyone loved the old man.
Makoto wondered how often a busy farmer would actually visit exotic locale, but then thought of 'exotic locale' as the boardwalk the Mayor mentioned earlier, which was about an hour's ferry ride across from Mineral Town.
Upon stopping back at the entrance to the farm, Thomas turned enthusiastically to Makoto.
"Anyways, where would you like to go now?" he asked with a warm smile. "We can head towards the beach, or just straight ahead to the north end of town." When Makoto didn't reply, Thomas felt something amiss, and turned to look at him to see him holding his left palm over the inside of his right forearm. "What's the matter, Makoto?" he asked, idly pulling at one end of his thick mustache. Makoto pointed to a jagged piece of wood protruding from the farm's fence.
"Umm… the fence cut me…" he replied flatly.
"Let me see, Makoto." Makoto lifted his hand. The color drained from Thomas's face as he stared at Makoto's wound, and the shreik he let out possibly killed some small woodland creatures. Frowning, Makoto said:
"It's... really not that big a deal." Hopefully, he thought, the Mayor would calm down.
"What do you mean it's not that big a deal?" the Mayor cried. With that, Makoto reached forward and clamped a hand on the Mayor's shoulder. It took a while for the Mayor to calm down once he met his poker-faced eyes.
"Really," Makoto muttered. "I'm fine."
"If you say so…" Thomas said with a sigh. "Come on, then. Our first stop should be the clinic."
"Sure," Makoto said. It was nice of the Mayor, after all. As they headed for the clinic, Makoto looked over and noticed the Mayor staring at his wound again, his face contorted in disgust. After a while, Makoto just did his best not to roll his eyes too much. The Mayor seemed discouraged every time he caught him doing it, anyway.
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A young, short-haired brunette stood behind the reception desk at the clinic, jotting down something and looking bored. Insurance forms first thing in the morning proved a lot of fun, as she always thought. About as much fun as watching paint dry.
Then the doors burst open. That usually wasn't a good sign.
The receptionist looked up, absolutely boggled at the sight of the Mayor dragging Makoto inside by the pant leg. Makoto shrugged at her. Then the Mayor left him in the middle of the lobby and approached the receptionist. He spoke in a whisper.
"Listen," he said. "He thinks I'm crazy, but he cut himself on a fence, and..." His face went wan. "DEAR GOD! HELP THIS BOY! HE'S GOING TO DIE!" Thomas screamed, falling to his knees.
Makoto, still grasping his arm, exchanged a strange look with the receptionist. Then he looked down at Thomas. With that, the receptionist turned to Makoto, nearly saying aloud: 'Finally, something to do'.
"Is there something the matter?" she ended up asking him sweetly. Makoto shook his head as he looked again at Thomas. By then, the Mayor had fallen to his knees, weeping. Makoto rolled his eyes and gave a groan.
"Really, I'm fine," he told the receptionist.
"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?" Thomas cried. Makoto sighed. Then the receptionist noticed Makoto covering his arm, and shot him a sideways glare.
"Move your hand, please."
"I said I'm fine," Makoto grumbled, cutting her a dirty look. But that didn't deter her.
"Just move your hand," she repeated cooly. Resigned, Makoto showed her his wound. "So, how are you fine?" she asked. "You're bleeding profusely!" Makoto shrugged in reply. Without another word, the receptionist grabbed Makoto's arm and laid it over the desk. Makoto watched as she cleaned the wound and wrapped it up in a bandage. Then she smiled back up at Makoto.
"All done!" she announced. Giving a lopsided smile, she asked: "Was that so bad?"
Makoto glowered a bit. "I guess it wasn't," he told her, looking at his arm and oblivious to the "I-told-you-so" look on her face. But when he looked back up at her, he got a good look at her fair-skinned face and warm, brown eyes. But she cracked a wry smile, and then nervously diverted her gaze as her ears reddened. Unsure of what he did to her, Makoto also looked away as he idly fumbled around in his pocket for money.
"No need to pay," a stern-sounding voice said from behind. Everyone turned to see the dark-haired doctor of the clinic, hands shoved into his lab coat pockets. Makoto thought he must have been standing there the whole time as he was nodding approvingly of the job his nurse had done. He looked young, but his career as a doctor left his age rather ambiguous.
"So you're the Sergeant?" The Doctor extended a hand. "I'm the Doctor." All the while, he remained poker-faced. Makoto took his hand and shook it. "Well, we should get you started out on your medical records," the Doctor continued. "Stop by tomorrow."
With that, Mayor Thomas looked at his watch. Furrowing his brow, he gave Makoto a tug on the back of his T-shirt.
"Come along now, Makoto. We've still got more to see, and I'm sure you're going to want to get to work soon."
Makoto nodded. But before he followed Thomas, he looked over his shoulder to see the receptionist waving to him as he left. When she flashed him a smile, he found himself nervously diverting his gaze.
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Later that morning, Makoto found himself sifting through an old, creaky tool chest in the corner of the house. The sight of the dilapidated tools led him to contemplate which pile of rust was least likely to disintegrate, but in the end, he decided to grab them all and head outside. When he stepped onto the shaded porch, he noticed a huge, built man standing by the shipping box. His brown hair was cropped into a vertical brush-cut, and between his sweat-stained muscle shirt and towel around his neck, he looked like a professional body-builder.
"Now… where's Makoto…?" he muttered to himself as he looked around. Makoto waved from the porch.
"Over here!" he called. The burly man spun around, and arched an eyebrow at Makoto's appearance. After all, Makoto looked too skinny to have the strength to carry all those tools, much less handle the farm labor.
"Ah! There you are! Come out over here, I wanna meet you!"
Makoto, holding tools in his large hands, emerged from the porch. The burly man tugged at his towel, and wasted no time introducing himself.
"I'm Zack, and I'll be your shipper!" Makoto managed to catch his name, but all he really noticed besides that was that Zack was even taller than he was. Zack turned and pointed to the large, wooden crate, nailed into the ground. "Just put anything in there you want to ship. I'll come pick it up every working day at five… that's every working day. Non-working days are festival days. I need some time off too, likewise everyone else, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess," Makoto agreed awkwardly, looking up at him.
"Of course!" Zack exclaimed. He grinned, and then pointed past a creek and a small bridge. "So you can start off by foraging up by Mother's Hill. Maybe one day you can ask Basil-" he jerked a thumb in the opposite direction,"-to teach you about the herbs up there, or read up on it or something." Zack looked over Makoto's shoulder at an apple tree. "By the way, you can sell some honey from that bee hive too, and you'll get some apples in the autumn. Pink ladies, I think."
Makoto nodded again.
"Goddamn, you're quiet," Zack said, grinning again. Then he looked thoughtful, and after a moment or two clapped his hands and vigorously rubbed them together. "Okay then! I guess that's everything." He glanced at his watch. "I'll come back at around five then, got it?" Makoto nodded.
After Zack left, Makoto went about doing some foraging and weeding. He worked late into the night, clearing as much as he could with mostly his own raw strength. His body ached by the time he finished at midnight. Bleary eyed and yawning, he went inside and immediately threw himself onto the bed.
But as the hours passed, he realized he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, no matter how exhausted. Giving yet another frustrated groan, he dragged himself out of bed and crept back into the living room, almost as if he was an intruder in the house. It took some time after groping the walls to find the light switch. Once the room lit up, he headed to sit down on the sofa, but sat up tensely.
The old man stared at him from the pictures a large family on the wall. With his bearish frame, he certainly looked like someone who could handle all the labor of the farm. But as Makoto kept studying the pictures, he saw the old man also looked kind and friendly. Mayor Thomas certainly wasn't exaggerating when he made that point.
"Why me, old man?" Makoto asked aloud, as if expecting a reply from him. He looked to the picture, feeling it strange to see the old man surrounded by family in the picture. As he figured, the old man probably had no one he could leave the farm to but him.
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Again, I'm all for hearing what's working (and consequently not working) about the re-write. Helps me get better, and it helps you guys... uhhh... win free cookies.