The Farmer (Fiction)

This is more or less a Harvest Moon fan fiction. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while. I have always loved the concept of how the stories normally begin, but I have always wished they took a different direction as you progressed from day one. 


I hopped out of the truck, and turned to wave to my friendly driver. His wrinkly, grizzled face seemed to recognize this in some fashion, but his mouth put no words to it. He directed a thumb to his truckbed, reminding me to grab my stuff. I laughed awkwardly, and thanked him, taking my things.

He drove off quickly. I appreciated the honesty of his actions. Nice enough to give some idiot city kid a ride, but unwilling to even pretend he obeyed the same social rules. That was nice. Refreshing. Maybe I should be more…rude? I guess that’s how people from back home would describe it.

Home…weird. This was home now.

I looked out over the land before me, my eyes scanning it as if I knew what I was looking at. My lips pressed together in what probably looked like consideration, but really I was merely trying to hide my ignorance from, well, no one. Old habits die hard; the ones that make you look like you know what you’re doing die harder.

The land looked pretty dry. There were some spots pretty clearly used for something other than grass. They looked unkempt at best. Rocks and weeds crowded the once thriving cropland. A couple trees seemed to have taken up residence there too, excited to grow in the once-forbidden area.

I saw the house I would be fixing up and sleeping in about a quarter of a mile away. Good! I’ll need the extra walking time to build up some cardio. I had heard farm work can be fairly taxing. I had been on the swim team for a couple years back in high school, but I didn’t do much in the way of staying in shape after the fact. That could be seen as a weak decision, but I had been scrambling to find any kind of job. I couldn’t exactly put in the time for spending calories when it was difficult enough to afford getting any.

I sighed heavily, looking out across the landscape.

“This is gonna be a lot more work than writing up stupid resumes, isn’t it?”

I guess I’ll be talking to myself more often from now on. That’s weird.

No one here to call me out on it at least.

I approached the house. It looked fairly intact. Some mismatched tiles adorned the roof, and one of the windows looked cracked to the point of it impressing me by even holding together at this point.

As I thought this very thought, the glass fell away from the window in small, dangerous shards.

I smiled.

To be continued…

For my own pleasure, really. I guess that’s cool if you like it too. 


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