Arthur heard the sounds of waves splashing and the squawking of seagulls. He looked around confused noting that he wasn't inside his cabin anymore. In fact, he was on a creaky wooden boat out in the cool blue water.
"Arthur." A familiar voice beside him said. He slowly turned around not believing what he was hearing.
Sitting next to him was Hosea in the flesh.
Arthur had his mouth agape at him, and an expression of shock was conveyed on his face.
"What's the matter Arthur, you look like you've seen a ghost." Hosea joked.
It took Arthur a moment to compose himself before he spoke. "That's cause I am. I saw you die in Saint Denis." He stated confusing Hosea.
"Arthur what are you talking about. Saint Denis? Why the hell would we be in Saint Denis?" He asked.
Now Arthur was confused, "Where am I?"
"Flat Iron Lake," Hosea answered, "Pearson wanted us to get some fish." Arthur nodded his head in understanding. "Are you alright Arthur if you're not feeling up to it, I can go alone."
He shook his head, "No I'm alright, just had a nightmare."
Hosea chuckled, "My stories put you to sleep again?"
"I guess."
"If you don't mind me asking what the nightmare was about?" Hosea asked.
"Well, the gang fell apart, Micah betrayed us, and you, Lenny, Sean, Kieran, and Susan were killed." He explained. "I also woke up in the future somehow and started a farm." He added.
Hosea did a double take at that last part, "You? A farmer?"
"I know, I know. That was the strangest part if you ask me."
Grey clouds were approaching the horizon, and a huge gust of wind blew past nearly knocking Arthur's hat off.
"And the gang falling apart doesn't surprise me. After all it was all your fault." Arthur stared at Hosea processing what he just said.
"I beg your pardon." It was now starting to rain.
"It was all your fault, Arthur. You couldn't save me, you couldn't save Sean, you couldn't save Lenny, and you couldn't save Issac and Eliza." Arthur froze, the rain beginning to pelt him, a pit of guilt forming in his stomach.
"I tried to help you, all of you I did." he said shakily.
"It's all your FAULT." Hosea lunged at him taking them both down into the murky blue depths. He had his hands around his trying to starve him of oxygen while he was already drowning. There was a loud crack of thunder. Arthur could feel his conscious slipping. The words your fault echoing in his mind.
Arthur awoke with a cold sweat, panting heavily and letting out a fit of coughs from his recovering lungs. He looked around his surroundings. He was back in his rustic cabin in Stardew.
He lay down staring at the wooden ceiling trying to calm himself. The sunlight seeped through the window casting a warm glow into the room. He looked around seeing Emily's topaz and several seed packets scattered on the table as he left them last night.
Arthur thought about the dream he just had with a sense of guilt. Maybe it really was all his fault, maybe he could have saved Sean, Lenny, Hosea, and maybe just maybe he could've saved himself.
He got up from the bed trying to shake these thoughts away from his mind. He freshened himself, took the pills Harvey gave him, grabbed the seeds from the table and headed out for work. It was mostly a blur of him working the farm and trying to distract himself from his guilt. However, as he was working, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
He had mail in his mailbox.
He went over and checked it, curious at who would send him mail in the valley. It was from someone named Willy, a name Arthur wasn't familiar with, then again Arthur only met a handful of the villagers so far.
He opened it up and began to read the short message.
Hello there,
Just got back from a fishing trip. You should come down to the beach some time.
I've got something for ya.
This piqued Arthur's attention, mostly because it served as the perfect distraction to clear his mind. He didn't need to tend further to his crops which were now tilled and watered. So, he headed off walking to town.
He had a vague idea of the direction of the local beach with Harvey mentioning a beach during his recovery. It took him a minute, but he found his way.
The beach was beautiful in Arthur's opinion, golden sand glistened in the sunlight, sapphire ocean waves crashed gently on the shore, and the smell of salt lingered in the air. He also took notice of a cabin that was on the shore that was right next to a shallow creek.
Arthur wondered if Willy was in the cabin, he was about to go over and knock on the door, but before he could, he saw a man standing on the nearby docks staring at the ocean while smoking a pipe.
He made his way over to the docks passing by a stilt house connected to the docks that had several nets, fish and rope hanging on the walls.
The man was still facing the ocean, not noticing Arthur's presence. He wore a brown cap with sewing patches visible in some places, as well as a bright red shirt, and a full black beard.
Arthur coughed in had hand to get his attention, "Excuse me mister, but are you Willy?" He asked.
The man turned around snuffing out his pipe, "Indeed I am lad, good to see ya got my letter." He started, with Arthur noting that Willy had a bit of an Irish accent that reminded him of Sean and Molly. "Just got back from a trip out on the seas and Lewis told me we had a newcomer in town."
"Yeah, I've been settling into that old farm the past couple of days," he told Willy. "You said you have something for me?"
"Yes, just got back from a fishing trip, a very successful one at that, got enough to buy me a new fishing rod. And I wanted to give you my old one, a sorta welcoming gift to the valley." He handed Arthur a fishing rod similar to his old one.
Arthur chuckled, "I believe this is my fourth gift since coming here."
"Aye, most of the townsfolk heard of your plight in the clinic, myself included, and although we couldn't get the details it sounded awful." Willy explained.
Arthur scoffed, "So, I'm getting presents out of pity?"
"There's a difference between pity and sympathy Mr. Morgan. Never forget that." Willy stated in a sagely tone.
Arthur said nothing, simply taking in Willy's words in silence.
"You ever do any fishing before?" Willy asked changing the subject.
"A couple times, though I always thought I was a terrible fisherman compared to some of my friends."
"I'll be the judge of that. Why don't you fish with me for a bit, I can tell you a couple of tricks." Willy offered.
"Sure, why not." Arthur accepted while he assembled his rod.
Willy cast his line out with Arthur following shortly behind.
"So, you said you fished a couple of times before. Caught anything interesting?" Willy asked trying to make small talk.
"Yeah, there was this one time I was fishing with a friend of mine, Kieran was his name, out by the lake we were camping out at. And while we were fishing, this naked swimmer comes up to us and points us to this direction of a giant bluegill. One of the biggest I ever caught, reckon it was about four pounds." Arthur regaled.
"Aye, we have bluegill in these waters, though we call'em bream here, and none as heavy as four pounds." Willy said.
Arthur's line went taut, and his rod was pulled downward.
"Oh, I got something." He reeled it in, with the fish resisting Arthur's tugging. After one final tug the fish was out of the water and hanging by the end of the line.
"A halibut, not bad for the first catch of the day." Willy remarked. "I'll buy anything you catch by the way." He added, with Arthur humming in acknowledgement while he dealt with the fresh fish.
Arthur cast out his line again, "So, is that your cabin out on the beach?"
"No, that's Elliott's; my neighbor. In fact, I think that's him coming over. Quick warning, he has a giant vocabulary."
Arthur glanced behind him, seeing a man with long flowing orange hair and dressed in a fashion that was like those of Saint Denis' high society.
"Good afternoon, Willy, glad to see you made it back in one piece from your trip." Elliott said with an accent that matched his attire. "And you must be Arthur, I'm Elliott. Your arrival has sparked many a conversation. Especially since you were cooped up in the clinic."
"I've heard, though I'm more used to lying low and avoiding attention, if possible," Arthur confessed.
"To each their own. I'm quite the opposite; always wanted to go show my writing prowess to the world," Elliott exclaimed.
"Writing?"
"Yes, Elliott here is an esteemed writer," Willy explained to Arthur, "I have to go in, and stock the shop. Come see me when your done and I'll buy yer fish," Willy left the two men while he headed inside.
Arthur's interest was piqued, "What do you write?" he asked while reeling in another fish.
"Literary essay's, poetry, short stories. Stuff you'd find in magazines or collections," Elliott explained, "but that's why I moved here, to help with writing my first novel."
"Whatcha writing about?" Arthur questioned casting out his line, while Willy began to reel in a catch.
Elliott sighed, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, "That's the first problem I have; I don't what to write about," he revealed.
Arthur had an idea of what he could write about, he was just debating whether he should tell Elliott or not.
A second later he made up his mind, "How bout a western?"
Elliott scoffed, "That's a bit old fashioned for my taste, and tales of the old west are a bit overdone in my opinion."
Arthur frowned, "Well how bout a tale of the dying days of the Wild West, and a gang that was like a family slowly fell apart," Elliott was curious now and had his full attention.
"Go on." He urged Arthur.
"Well, where do you want me to begin?" He asked.
"Start at the most interesting part."
Arthur nodded and started to reminisce about old memories; both good and bad.
"Well, it all started with a heist in a town called Blackwater…"
For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, Arthur told Elliott about the ferry heist, escaping the law, settling into Colter, meeting, Sadie, saving John, hunting with Charles, dealing with the O'Driscoll's, the Cornwall train robbery, and he finished it off with them leaving for Horseshoe Overlook. Of course, he used fake names and alias for the story; he wasn't an idiot.
Elliott was enamored with the story to say the least, only interrupting to ask a question here or there. He listened to Arthur as though what he was saying was some siren song.
Arthur didn't really know why he was telling Elliott all of this. Maybe it was a way to cope with all that happened, or maybe he was confessing to Elliott to ease the guilt.
The guilt of past mistakes, the guilt of foolish loyalty, the guilt of dead friends.
"That is simply marvelous," Elliott's exclamation snapped Arthur out from his thoughts, "do you mind if I use this for my novel? I haven't had a good idea for my novel in months and this would be perfect."
Arthur shrugged, "Sure, go right ahead."
"Thank you, Mr. Morgan; I've got to write all of this down. Have a good evening," and with that Elliott left with a bit of pep in his step.
Arthur meanwhile picked up his bucket and sold a day's worth of fish to Willy, earning a hundred bucks or so.
He soon left the beach, his mind free from the nightmare he had, and instead he thought about the elegant writer and the old fisherman.
Sorry for the long wait, school's been a bitch.
Bit of a side note but I'm interested to hear ideas on which of the bachelor's or bachelorettes should be paired with Arthur later down the line. (ONLY ONE, I'm not writing a harem story.)
So leave a review and I'll read your ideas.