Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-39659097-20190601032917

1977

The backdoor flew open. “Look what I found grandpa!” said John. He skipped his way to the living room where I was sitting. Close to a fire and old. “Ah, let me see John, show grandpa what you found.” “I found it outside when I was digging!” “John, you are only 7 and you’re off digging? My my, you’re going to be a quite the adventurer one day”. “I hope so grandpa!” “What did you find?” “I found a book!” As I brushed off some dirt and mud from the cover of the book, I could clearly see that it was a journal. I opened it and began to read.



Day 1 10:58 AM

I’ve never written in a journal before, but I feel as though I should. It is the year 1915. My name is Arthur Willing. I was born forty-seven years ago in a very small town called Arvenwood. It is a hard working town, like a sprinkle of hope in the sky, they say. Though I’m afraid recently it has been “going under”, as they say, the people from the city. “Arvenwood?” they ask, “Where the hell is that?” I don’t know, is the correct answer. I don’t know. Some say it’s in Ohio, and even some say that you can’t find it anywhere on a map of the United States. It doesn’t exist, they presume. I was born and raised in Arvenwood. I’ve lived here my whole life…and I’ll die here. The sky seems as though it’s been burnt overtime. It’s dark, but it’s 11:00 AM; when I peer through my window at least. I live in a little wooden home next to a bridge. This short stone bridge leads straight into some thick forest, and only God knows what lies beyond that. My home is on the outer rim of the town, where some folk live. The others live closer toward the town center where all the so called “business” occurs. It is about a mile down from the bridge. It has the bank, the barber, the grocery store, and anything any normal town has. Things haven’t really been the same since the irrigation problem though. The wheat, the veggies, and the fruits aren’t growing at all. We cannot get water running in the right spots. The ground is too dry and used up from decades of farming. We get our food from the city. The people from the food industries come by in their huge trucks every so often and bring us canned food and meat. I think it’s disgusting. I wonder what they might bring this week, hopefully some real food for once, like some fresh greens and potatoes. Arvenwood is dying from a lack of pride. Nobody cares about it anymore. They say it’s at the phase before it becomes a ghost town. A town abandoned…

9:12 PM

I should tell you why I’m writing. I feel ill. I think my darkest days are headed here. I feel like I’m dying. And I am going to write these last days, or weeks out till I’m gone. I know, how depressing, but that is the card I have drawn, so be it. I’ve been lying in this bed for about a week now and I can’t stand it. I’d rather be tending the field, but it’s dying just like me. All this processed canned food tastes good, but I feel sicker because of it. I haven’t been sleeping well at all recently; this feeling like something terrible is going to happen is stifling my sleep. I would like a little sunshine every now and then. It’s almost as though the break of dawn happens and stays there till the moon shines. Either sunrise occurs all day long, or it’s setting all day long. Either way…it’s setting.

Day 2 10:00 AM

I drink coffee in the morning, if my wife makes it. Yes, my wife, I almost forgot to mention her. She is what keeps me alive. I love her with everything in me. If it wasn’t for her I’d already be long gone. My wife’s name is Sandra Willing. Her maiden name is Barnette. We met on a boat a long time ago. I can’t remember too much of it right now, maybe later I will. She brought me a cup of coffee and it sits on my half table thing I have in front of the window. There is a small glass vase with a dying flower sticking out of it. A picture stays there with a cracked frame. This picture brings back feelings I haven’t felt in five years. It’s a picture of me, my wife, and our son, Tristan. He had the most beautiful light blue eyes and very dark black hair. He was 19 years old when he died along with his wife Julie, who was 20. Lost at sea, they told us. They went on a private vacation to get away from things. They said they would only be gone for 3 days. They left their 1-year-old son William with Sandra and me. The police called us to let us know that neither their bodies nor the captain’s body was ever found, only a destroyed boat. William is 6, and still thinks that they will come back for him. We’ve told him plenty of times that they were lost at sea and wouldn’t be back. He hears “lost” and thinks they will find their way back home. My child is dead, and I will see him soon…very soon. I see a lot of Tristan in William. They are both wonderers and dreamers. People like them don’t last long. People like me. We dream for better times, yet better times don’t ever dream for themselves.

1:07 PM

Hope dies a little more inside every time I vomit. The taste of canned tomatoes and canned ham makes me sick even more. I can’t stand it; maybe in heaven they have fresh greens and fresh meats to eat all day long. I saw Mr. Wilson and his son James go fishing on the bridge today and it made me wonder. What is on the other side of that bridge? Just forest? Has there ever been anything other than a forest over there? Not a city or anything, just miles of forest. What is that forest called anyway? I guess maybe a city once dwelled there. Like I said, only God knows what is beyond that place. Hmm…a bridge that leads to nothing. The Wilson’s live across the road from us. They are a quiet happy little family with good intentions and lively morals. Good people. As long as they are not as religious as the others in Arvenwood, they are good people to me. I guess when you have nothing else to look forward to, church is the only other option these people have. Three times a day, everyday. They believe in God and anything that has to do with him. Faith is something that they grab on to and won’t let go, because nothing else will hold on to them. I let go of faith around the time Tristan disappeared. Sandra takes William every now and then, but not as often as everyone else. Sandra tells me that the townsfolk give her and William cruel stares and I believe it is because of our lack of commitment towards the church. Father Carlyle looks at us differently now. He is a well-respected person in Arvenwood. If you are clergy here, the people love you regardless of your past life, and I know of his past life. Before he was a priest and Tristan was around 10 or 11, James Carlyle and I were having a drink one night when he decided to confess some things to me. Things I wouldn’t forget. He would tell me things like how he would “touch” his own daughter, multiple times. When he would go home drunk he said he would get “excited”. His daughter was 12 years old. I haven’t spoken to him since.

11:27 PM

What a dreadful life this is, where at an instance notice everything can be taken from you. I wonder if heaven is on the other side of that forest.

Day 3 4:57 AM

I cannot sleep. I have been having terrible dreams. I am swimming in the ocean with no land around me at all and the only thing I keep hearing is Sandra’s voice calling for me to help her and I can’t see her anywhere. And I think of Tristan and how he must’ve gone through this

11:08 AM

The day is coming. I am so weak. My bones wither away like sand in a storm. I’ve grown thinner and it’s harder for me to breathe. My wife Sandra made me coffee and told me what has happened this morning. The Wilson’s paid a visit and dropped off some bread for us. Kind people, their son James plays outside with William sometimes. I wonder if they have ever been to that forest. I think I’ll ask him later. At church, she says Father Carlyle spoke about how God has blessed our town with our youth to change the future of Arvenwood. I shivered with the thought of hearing him say that.

2:36 PM

I called William into my room and spoke to him about the forest and he said that it gets colder the closer he gets to it so he doesn’t go past the end of the bridge. I think that’s kind of odd for a forest to keep children from playing in it. Usually children will go anywhere and play anywhere. I will talk to William later about it.

6:40 PM

Dr. Johnson just left and told me to continue getting rest and drinking water and juices. I told him that I wouldn’t ever put these processed canned juices in my body and that if I did I would probably die faster. He just grinned at me. I asked William about the forest again. He told me that he doesn’t play over there because he doesn’t feel safe. He said it scares him and that it’s weird. He said he tells all the other kids at school not to go there. What a good child trying to keep others safe. Most adults today lack that sort of trait. If only they would, maybe I wouldn’t be this way. I do wish I could get my health back, so that I can take care of Sandra and William. I wonder, is there no cure? Am I to die without ever knowing what of? A lack of pride I would say; for my town and my life.

10:02 PM

It has come down to the fact that I have tried the best I can. To live a peaceful life in a peaceful town, with my family, I’ve tried. Is it true, that this town has been abandoned? That it is becoming a ghost town? Is it true what they say, that you can’t find this place on a map and that it doesn’t even exist? Has my whole life been a dream? A mystery? My head hurts, and the ink in my pen has ran low. I will continue writing tomorrow.

Day 4 12:00 PM

They say a breeze has picked up in Arvenwood, and it’s funny because, as far as the trees go, there hasn’t been a breeze around here in a long while.

1:27 PM

I can see a man outside my window. He is standing on the front of the bridge that leads to the forest, but he is facing the town. He isn’t moving, and I wonder how long he has been there? Does anyone know him or not? Where did he come from? My head is aching severely and I can barely focus on him. Maybe he is just a trader of some sort. Unless he came from that forest, he couldn’t be a trader.

3:00 PM

I saw my wife outside on the porch with her hands on her hips wondering and gazing towards this stranger. Then she came inside and we talked about it, wondering who he was. I don’t see any breasts on him so I’m sure it’s a man. He looked at me once and a chill went up and down my body and I had the urge to fall asleep. I guess this will all be worked out somehow. Strange things don’t happen to this town. Nothing happens to this town.

7:57 PM

My wife told me that she went into town to go to the grocery store to buy some food. She told me she asked some people if they knew or had seen him and the people just looked at her like she was crazy. So, she told them to go down to the old stone bridge that leads to that forest to go look for themselves, if they get a chance. I’ve only seen the Wilson’s stand outside and look at him. I could tell that they were scared. Then Mr. And Mrs. Wilson came over to talk to Sandra about it and they stepped in to my room to say hello and wish me well. Good people.

Day 5 3:33 PM

The Wilson’s stopped by again, this time with James, to talk about the stranger. Since their house is a little bit closer to the bridge, they told us that when they looked outside at him they felt something strange come across their whole body. Like maybe they had seen him before. I told them that I felt the same when he gazed at me once. They then described to Sandra and me what he looked like, while William and James played outside. “He is about 6’1” Mr. Wilson said “thin”. He said he has the lightest of eyes with dark hair. He wears a scarf over his nose and mouth, as if he was sick, so they could barely see his whole face. The scarf runs around his neck where then he is wearing a long rugged cape that drapes over both sides of him, he has brown pants and boots. The strange thing that I’ve noticed and that the Wilson’s have noticed is his strange hat. I could not describe it but Mrs. Wilson says that it looks like a rice planter’s hat from China and Japan. It has a wide and flat brim. Whoever this man is, he isn’t from here. At least I don’t think he is.

7:57 PM

People are gathered outside on the bridge keeping a safe 7 feet or so from the stranger looking at him. It looks like most of Arvenwood is here; it’s a big crowd. At the front of the crowd are Father Carlyle and the “so called” mayor Ben Garvin. I’m slightly scared because Sandra is out there with them. And I do not know what they are talking about but I see only Father Carlyle moving his mouth and waving his arms around like some preacher would. Now everyone has stopped moving. I believe the stranger has spoken. Everyone is leaving now with a gloom worried pale face.

10: 21 PM

Sandra and I spoke, and she told me what happened. Father Carlyle and the Mayor tried to speak to him, keeping a safe distance from the stranger. They asked him questions like; do you know anyone that lives in Arvenwood? , Where did you come from? And what do you want from us? She said that he didn’t respond to any of the questions. Then Father Carlyle was convinced he was a demon of some sort and started telling people to join him in a prayer to cast the demon away. And that’s when it happened she said. “A silence fell upon all of us and we gazed forward at him and he whispered something to the Mayor, yet we all heard what he said in our heads”. He said, “You will welcome change very soon.” She said she started crying and people started getting worried. And that’s when the mayor called a town meeting. She told me it was odd that the Wilson’s were not there with the rest of the town. Sandra left for the town meeting and told me she would check on the Wilson’s on her way back. Be careful darling.

12:11 AM

My God what is happening to us…Sandra came back and told me everything that the mayor was talking about and what has happened…to the Wilson’s. The Wilson’s are dead. Mr. And Mrs. Wilson have hung themselves…and James is gone, no one can find him. Poor Sandra was the first to see them like that. I tried to comfort her as much as I could but I don’t think I helped much. Sandra made me soup and told me what the mayor said. The soup is still sitting on my bedside table…cold. The mayor has issued a town wide effort to prepare for this “Change” the visitor said was going to occur. Everyone is supposed to help the farms on the outskirts find some new ways to irrigate the crops. The mayor is going to call the company that supplies us the food to get us more equipment and different kinds of foods and other things. “Anything”, I told her, “Anything to keep you and William safe”. I never thought I would say this but…God save us.

Day 6 9:11 AM

Sandra has returned from town, she was up early helping and told me what is going on in town and then she left again. The townsfolk have decided on one thing for once…. change. This town has been dying in every way, and only when their backs are against the wall do they decide to change. I feel stronger for the first time in a month. I need to help this town change, no matter how little the effect I have, I must help. I wonder where James Wilson is. There are a lot of townsfolk helping out with the irrigation issue. They are re-routing the water that comes in under that bridge from the city. This will help, and help fast. Also, we just got in more supplies to help with this change. I look outside and see him standing there, the wind blowing his hair from side to side, his eyes as cold as ever. He doesn’t get hot or cold. He doesn’t seem to do anything, yet he is doing something…He’s waiting.



“Grandpa, Grandpa!” "Yes John, what is wrong?” He came running in again from the backyard this time not with a book or journal but with a piece of paper. “What is this John?” “Grandpa, I think it’s a missing page!”

It was torn in half and I felt compelled now to finish this journal.



Day 10 4:27 PM

I have not been writing because I have been busy helping. Yes, I can walk again. I am not very strong, but at least I can supply people with water or give ideas or something of that sort. We buried the Wilson’s today, and they found James Wilson further down the creek dead. He had wandered around scared till he fell into the creek, hit his head, and drowned. He was only 6 years old. Something has been turning my stomach over lately and it hasn’t been the food for we have received plenty of different food besides the kind we’ve been getting. My stomach turns because I am worried about something, something I have not wrapped my head around yet. Sandra sees me walking and gets happy. I’ve never seen her so happy. Though I believe we shouldn’t be happy yet, because I know this is not over until he say’s it’s over.

7:30 PM

The wind blew…the rain poured…the pain grew in our hearts. Our efforts were demolished today all in a matter of hours. The new bank we were building was demolished while we were building it. A man died, Mr. Patterson; the owner of the general store, a very peaceful man. The rain poured in and destroyed our half-made bank. The rubble fell on Mr. Patterson crushing him. I’ve never seen such disaster, such pain. I wonder if our efforts and the lives of the ones who died have all been in vain.

Day 17

We are tired of building and building, though the town looks better than it ever has before. Sandra started crying today. I asked her why she was crying and she gazed outside towards the stranger. “He hasn’t moved…spoke…Christ he hasn’t even ate or drank anything. What kind of person or thing doesn’t eat or drink for a week or more?…I’m scared”. She went on to say that maybe he is the devil or maybe we was sent here to end Arvenwood. I couldn’t help but question to myself…Why? Why is he here? Does he know one of us…Or maybe we have been waiting for him all our lives. Could that be it?

Some of us in town feel hopeless and worthless, as though we have done nothing. We plan to speak to him tomorrow night. We all agreed to wake up early tomorrow, go over to the bridge, confront him, and let him know we are prepared for whatever “change” he wishes to afflict on Arvenwood because we have put everything into this preparation. He will never step foot here again.



As I flipped through the pages of this journal I noticed the last page was torn, so I pieced the page that John had found earlier and it fit, so I continued reading.



Day 18

Something has happened. Something has changed. I woke up and walked outside and for the first time, I saw sunlight. Real sunlight. I saw a beautiful sway in the trees. I saw the stream from under the bridge glisten in the sunlight. I saw flowers, the most beautiful flowers I’d ever seen. I smelt something precious in the air. Maybe the smell of the fresh vegetables. Sandra held my hand and I felt the wind blow from the sea, and I was back in 1890. I felt the wind blow from the sea and I’m gazing into Sandra’s eyes. The moonlight illuminated our skin and we felt each other’s hand from across the table we were sitting at. I proposed to her and she whispered yes, and I felt a cold tear run down my face and her warm hand wipe it away. I never felt so right before. I held Sandra’s hand and William’s in the other and at that moment I had never felt better. And it was all because the people of Arvenwood. When we walked to the center of the street we saw the people of Arvenwood feeling the same way we did. They were standing on their front porch looking about with their eyes closed, breathing in the air. There is still work to be done…. he is not moving.



John was outside playing still, and I was inside reading this journal. I decided to stop reading for a while and I went to my room and grabbed my coat, “John, come inside and grab your coat. We are going for a walk, okay?” I heard no response. I walked outside and saw John standing there holding a spade in his left hand and something else in his right hand. There was a big hole a few feet deep in the yard. I was amazed. John was holding a bullet casing. “Grandpa! Look what I found!” “I see John, this is a bullet casing, which is what is wrapped around the actual bullet Grab your coat, we are going to go for a little walk okay?” “Ok Grandpa”. We started walking and I asked him what he knew of this town. “It’s a big town Grandpa, and that is where I was born over there”. He pointed to Arvenwood City Hospital. We then walked to a gun store that was a few blocks down from where we lived, and I asked the man at the counter what kind of gun the bullet belonged to. He said maybe an old revolver. John and I went to the park and sat down on a bench. I reached in my jacket pocket and pulled out the journal. I pieced the missing page to the last entry and began to read.



This will be the last entry. I will explain to you what has happened. Last night we confronted the wanderer. My recollections: It was very dark outside and it felt like it was about to rain. There was the fresh aroma of the growing crops from the small farms that were nearby in town. Mayor Garvin and Father Carlyle led the pack of townsfolk as usual, Garvin spoke first, “We have done all that we can to prepare for this change that you have spoke of” Carlyle, “It has been nearly a month since your arrival, you have yet to move. What is to happen? What is to change?” and as the rain suddenly poured in from the sky, the wanderer spoke in two voices at the same time: “1 month ago, there was a sickly man, I wish for him to step forward” in an instant the whole town seemed to gaze upon me, and as I walked closer to the front next to Carlyle, I felt colder with every step. Then, I was there and he stared through my soul with his piercing light blue eyes and this suffocating feeling overcame me. I wondered…..Tristan? I couldn’t move and a voice in my head spoke: “The change has occurred, and great things are expected of Arvenwood, You will insure its future.” A strand of dark black hair fell from his hat and I called for Tristan. The wanderer turned and walked into the forest behind him.

I spent all morning running around that god-forsaken forest and I couldn’t find one fucking trace of anyone being there.

So I stand here with my father’s revolver in my pocket loaded up, and I ask you…what is change without sacrifice? People died this month. Is this wanderer to come back? Is there a way to insure a future of great change without sacrifice? I will Insure the future just like Tristan did for Arvenwood and there is only one way…….Tristan….my son….



John and I sat at the bench in the middle of the day, I looked around at this big beautiful city, with all the tree’s and people everywhere my gazing came wandering back down to John’s beautiful young face, and his little palms held out to me with a bullet casing stretched across them both…..I looked down at the journal…..



I love you……..I will see you soon... 