Terdin
Farmer
I don't like getting inspiration for new stuff, since I've got enough novels to work on as it is, but I got it and writing it out is the only way to get it out of my head.
Here goes...
Prologue:
Some of my fondest childhood memories had been from Grandpa's farm. The wide space where his animals roamed free, trying to help him plant and water seeds by the small river. I wanted to be like him and he taught me how to do some basic stuff. It was a perfect place to play with my brother on our visits, even if we were warned to stay away from the ruins of a greenhouse. Grandma had died there, and he'd never been able to bring himself to rebuild it. We even attended festivals, even if my memory is a bit fuzzy on which ones they were. Mostly we children were running around playing tag, or stealing treats from the tables.
Then there was a time when it seemed like an eternity before I saw him again. Mom said something about a fire and having to rebuild. On our last visit, his house seemed a lot smaller. No kitchen. He had managed to save at least one of his beloved apple plushies though, those that I was never allowed to touch. My parents and my uncle's family each got some of his chests and whatever they contained. My brother got the chest with his mineral collection. Me? I got only a sealed envelope despite him calling me his favorite granddaughter. His exact words about it were lost to me, but I got the meaning, that I was not to open it until I was an adult and desperate for a change. The unfairness burned.
Not long after, he died.
Unable to cope with the betrayal of his death, I couldn't bear to even look at the envelope for many years. Only after I'd got a job, and was made to move out did I find it again. I'd hoped to be able to afford an apartment of my own, but with a low-wage deskjob of handling online orders and customer complaints, I couldn't. I had to settle for renting a room from one of the girls I sometimes spoke with at lunch. After some of my stuff went missing, I made sure to always carry the thick envelope with me. I still didn't want to find out what was in it. Probably just some trite "words of wisdom" supposed to help people go on through a difficult time. But I didn't want to lose it either.
The months, then years, dragged on. Yearly evaluations that seemed designed to keep me at minimum wage, or just above it. While there was a dress code, it wasn't enforced. The guy in the cubicle behind me got no write-ups for the big hat he wore. His occasional grunts and the other sounds coming from him told me that he most likely took extra breaks to watch other stuff, probably on a small window that his hat hid from the cameras continuously monitoring us. I tried to save up for the deposit needed for an apartment of my own, but it was difficult with barely scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, and the sum needed went up every year.
One day, wondering if the rest of my life would be like this or if I should end it myself, I finally decided I could use Grandpa's last message to me and maybe see if it held a life-changing amount of money. So what if they wrote me up or even fired me for reading private stuff during work. P T, the seal read... Patrick Tindall. While I had known his name, I'd always thought of him as Grandpa. No money in it, just a letter, several pages long.
- If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.
Just reading it made me cry. I could almost hear him speaking those words. Wiping my tears away I continued reading, despite the strange start of a long letter.
- I've enclosed the deed to that place - my pride and joy: Hardship Farm. It's located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast and the perfect place to start a new life.
I looked at the other papers in the envelope. The deed and all the legal papers to transfer it to me, not a long letter as I'd thought. It felt weird to think the farm had a name, and such an odd one too. I returned to reading.
- This was my most precious gift, and now it's yours. I know you'll honor the family name, my girl.
Good luck.
Love, Grandpa.
P.S. If Lewis is still alive, say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?
Crying again, I wordlessly asked him to forgive me for all the years of thinking my inheritance had been the least valuable, the least life-changing. Despite being at work, I went online to see if I really had all the legal paperworks to take over the farm.
I wasted no time in quitting my job, the two weeks before I could collect my last paycheck went sooner than expected. I also moved out of the shared apartment and my parents allowed me to stay with them "until I found a new place".
"So, why didn't it work out with them?" Mom asked.
"Well, stuff went missing, just small things, nothing valuable, and not often, but kept on happening even after I made sure I knew exactly where I had things and made sure I always put them where they belonged."
She nodded, not fully convinced, knowing how careless I'd been with at least some of my belongings as a child. "How long do you think it'll be until you find a new place?" She asked to change the topic.
"I've already got one, but I need to wait for confirmation first. Grandpa gave me his farm." I showed her the deed. "I've already gone and handed in the paperwork to transfer it to me. He had them all filled in and signed, needing only my signature to complete it. They had some questions as to why the dates for the signatures were so different, but I managed to explain it."
"So that's where it was. We searched his cottage and the farm for it, thinking it might be hidden in a chest somewhere. Even asked Mayor Lewis about it, but he claimed my dad had it. I guess I suspected it might be in your envelope, but didn't want to ask. Didn't want to bring back bad memories for you. But you aren't going to move there, are you? Farming's too difficult for a girl like you. You've been spending the last few years at a desk, you're not fit enough."
"I can do it. I will not give up."
"So you say now, but in a year you'll probably want to sell it and return to the comforts of the city."
What comforts? Dead-end jobs, living from paycheck to paycheck. Always worrying about stuff I couldn't do anything about. I wouldn't be any worse off on the farm, and there were probably more stuff I could do something about, but I didn't say that to Mom.
My parents kept on saying stuff about me not being able to make it, mostly Mom, Dad was occasionally supportive. Then came the day when I was about to leave. I'd made a donation to Yoba and prayed to be relieved of my memories and the skills I'd developed while working for Joja, and I had indeed forgot most of the details. What little I did remember made me sure I never wanted to return to a job like that. I'd also bought some more appropriate leg-wear for farming. Knee-length skirt was good enough for a desk job, but I didn't want crops and other plants sneaking up where they didn't belong. Of course I picked a purple pair of trousers. No reason to not choose my favorite color.
"I've checked the value for the land, Erica. When you give up your attempts to become a farmer next year, you should at least be able to buy a small apartment," Mom said as I packed my few belongings, primarily socks and underwear, and some toiletries. "Don't forget your swimsuit. You might want to take a swim in summer, or maybe visit the spa if it's still there. Come back and visit us sometimes, will you?"
I'd had enough of her negative outlook on my prospects. "I won't come back to visit until I've earned at least a billion G on that farm. Won't give up before then either. You can visit me, if you want." I immediately regretted my words, but I wouldn't give Mom the satisfaction of going back on them. At least it shut her up.
"You should at least try to keep a diary," Dad said. "That way you can see how far you've got since your arrival, and how your progress is going. You should also take some of your Grandpa's tools with you. Sadly, we sold most of his better tools, but you wouldn't get all that far with farming if you had no tools at all."
The tools he brought me looked cheap, more like gardening tools for a back garden than proper farming tools. He was right that they were better than nothing at all, but really. A few rust spots, and dark stains where sweaty hands had gripped the handle for long days at work, revealed their age, but otherwise they were in good condition. I checked the edges, especially on the axe and scythe, and found signs of recent sharpening. At least Dad was quietly trying to help me succeed.
Then I finally boarded the monthly bus to Calico Desert - the closest destination - and asked the driver to drop me off at Pelican Town in Stardew Valley on the way there.
...
To be continued.
Here goes...
Prologue:
Some of my fondest childhood memories had been from Grandpa's farm. The wide space where his animals roamed free, trying to help him plant and water seeds by the small river. I wanted to be like him and he taught me how to do some basic stuff. It was a perfect place to play with my brother on our visits, even if we were warned to stay away from the ruins of a greenhouse. Grandma had died there, and he'd never been able to bring himself to rebuild it. We even attended festivals, even if my memory is a bit fuzzy on which ones they were. Mostly we children were running around playing tag, or stealing treats from the tables.
Then there was a time when it seemed like an eternity before I saw him again. Mom said something about a fire and having to rebuild. On our last visit, his house seemed a lot smaller. No kitchen. He had managed to save at least one of his beloved apple plushies though, those that I was never allowed to touch. My parents and my uncle's family each got some of his chests and whatever they contained. My brother got the chest with his mineral collection. Me? I got only a sealed envelope despite him calling me his favorite granddaughter. His exact words about it were lost to me, but I got the meaning, that I was not to open it until I was an adult and desperate for a change. The unfairness burned.
Not long after, he died.
Unable to cope with the betrayal of his death, I couldn't bear to even look at the envelope for many years. Only after I'd got a job, and was made to move out did I find it again. I'd hoped to be able to afford an apartment of my own, but with a low-wage deskjob of handling online orders and customer complaints, I couldn't. I had to settle for renting a room from one of the girls I sometimes spoke with at lunch. After some of my stuff went missing, I made sure to always carry the thick envelope with me. I still didn't want to find out what was in it. Probably just some trite "words of wisdom" supposed to help people go on through a difficult time. But I didn't want to lose it either.
The months, then years, dragged on. Yearly evaluations that seemed designed to keep me at minimum wage, or just above it. While there was a dress code, it wasn't enforced. The guy in the cubicle behind me got no write-ups for the big hat he wore. His occasional grunts and the other sounds coming from him told me that he most likely took extra breaks to watch other stuff, probably on a small window that his hat hid from the cameras continuously monitoring us. I tried to save up for the deposit needed for an apartment of my own, but it was difficult with barely scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, and the sum needed went up every year.
One day, wondering if the rest of my life would be like this or if I should end it myself, I finally decided I could use Grandpa's last message to me and maybe see if it held a life-changing amount of money. So what if they wrote me up or even fired me for reading private stuff during work. P T, the seal read... Patrick Tindall. While I had known his name, I'd always thought of him as Grandpa. No money in it, just a letter, several pages long.
- If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.
Just reading it made me cry. I could almost hear him speaking those words. Wiping my tears away I continued reading, despite the strange start of a long letter.
- I've enclosed the deed to that place - my pride and joy: Hardship Farm. It's located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast and the perfect place to start a new life.
I looked at the other papers in the envelope. The deed and all the legal papers to transfer it to me, not a long letter as I'd thought. It felt weird to think the farm had a name, and such an odd one too. I returned to reading.
- This was my most precious gift, and now it's yours. I know you'll honor the family name, my girl.
Good luck.
Love, Grandpa.
P.S. If Lewis is still alive, say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?
Crying again, I wordlessly asked him to forgive me for all the years of thinking my inheritance had been the least valuable, the least life-changing. Despite being at work, I went online to see if I really had all the legal paperworks to take over the farm.
I wasted no time in quitting my job, the two weeks before I could collect my last paycheck went sooner than expected. I also moved out of the shared apartment and my parents allowed me to stay with them "until I found a new place".
"So, why didn't it work out with them?" Mom asked.
"Well, stuff went missing, just small things, nothing valuable, and not often, but kept on happening even after I made sure I knew exactly where I had things and made sure I always put them where they belonged."
She nodded, not fully convinced, knowing how careless I'd been with at least some of my belongings as a child. "How long do you think it'll be until you find a new place?" She asked to change the topic.
"I've already got one, but I need to wait for confirmation first. Grandpa gave me his farm." I showed her the deed. "I've already gone and handed in the paperwork to transfer it to me. He had them all filled in and signed, needing only my signature to complete it. They had some questions as to why the dates for the signatures were so different, but I managed to explain it."
"So that's where it was. We searched his cottage and the farm for it, thinking it might be hidden in a chest somewhere. Even asked Mayor Lewis about it, but he claimed my dad had it. I guess I suspected it might be in your envelope, but didn't want to ask. Didn't want to bring back bad memories for you. But you aren't going to move there, are you? Farming's too difficult for a girl like you. You've been spending the last few years at a desk, you're not fit enough."
"I can do it. I will not give up."
"So you say now, but in a year you'll probably want to sell it and return to the comforts of the city."
What comforts? Dead-end jobs, living from paycheck to paycheck. Always worrying about stuff I couldn't do anything about. I wouldn't be any worse off on the farm, and there were probably more stuff I could do something about, but I didn't say that to Mom.
My parents kept on saying stuff about me not being able to make it, mostly Mom, Dad was occasionally supportive. Then came the day when I was about to leave. I'd made a donation to Yoba and prayed to be relieved of my memories and the skills I'd developed while working for Joja, and I had indeed forgot most of the details. What little I did remember made me sure I never wanted to return to a job like that. I'd also bought some more appropriate leg-wear for farming. Knee-length skirt was good enough for a desk job, but I didn't want crops and other plants sneaking up where they didn't belong. Of course I picked a purple pair of trousers. No reason to not choose my favorite color.
"I've checked the value for the land, Erica. When you give up your attempts to become a farmer next year, you should at least be able to buy a small apartment," Mom said as I packed my few belongings, primarily socks and underwear, and some toiletries. "Don't forget your swimsuit. You might want to take a swim in summer, or maybe visit the spa if it's still there. Come back and visit us sometimes, will you?"
I'd had enough of her negative outlook on my prospects. "I won't come back to visit until I've earned at least a billion G on that farm. Won't give up before then either. You can visit me, if you want." I immediately regretted my words, but I wouldn't give Mom the satisfaction of going back on them. At least it shut her up.
"You should at least try to keep a diary," Dad said. "That way you can see how far you've got since your arrival, and how your progress is going. You should also take some of your Grandpa's tools with you. Sadly, we sold most of his better tools, but you wouldn't get all that far with farming if you had no tools at all."
The tools he brought me looked cheap, more like gardening tools for a back garden than proper farming tools. He was right that they were better than nothing at all, but really. A few rust spots, and dark stains where sweaty hands had gripped the handle for long days at work, revealed their age, but otherwise they were in good condition. I checked the edges, especially on the axe and scythe, and found signs of recent sharpening. At least Dad was quietly trying to help me succeed.
Then I finally boarded the monthly bus to Calico Desert - the closest destination - and asked the driver to drop me off at Pelican Town in Stardew Valley on the way there.
...
To be continued.
