An Autumn Path - Part 1

Hello Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
Are you ready for a different story? I told you "By Bus with Vicki" was going to be long. You should have listened. :) This story won't be long. I promise. It's only a two part story. And, if you've already read it, you can read it again. I did write it 6 1/2 years ago! Do you think my writing style has changed? This is the first time I've re-posted something like this since I started this blog. I just haven't had time to write short stories!
And I'll tell you why. 

I found out from my illustrator for the TCR books that she can only do my illustrations next month. So, if I want this book published by Christmas (Did I just hear agreement?) then I have to get TCR-6 written by the end of this month, so I can figure out the illustrations. You can all be praying as I have about 16 parts or more, left to write. This also means I've had to set "Finding Joy" aside for now. :( I'm hoping I can pick that book back up next month and maybe finish writing it! Wouldn't that be fun?

You want some other exciting news? I should have a new kindle Christmas story ready for publication before Christmas! And this is a story no one has read! (Right now I really mean NO ONE as my editor hasn't even read it. :P )

And  . . . "The Unexpected Request" is being recorded for audio! The contract was signed on Wednesday and it should be out before the end of the year if all goes well! Yikes! This will mean I should have 5 new audios coming out this year! How many have you listened to?

Now we'll move on to this story.

 

An Autumn Path

Part 1

    With a long look around him at the trees glowing with brilliant autumn colors above him, their branches meeting and twining together to form a roof of flaming orange and yellow, he paused. The trunks were dark, contrasting sharply with the leaves and the golden brown grasses and ferns about their base. Here and there pine and spruce trees added their dark green to the stunning picture of fall glories causing the young man to catch his breath in wonder and awe. For several minutes he stood in silence.
    “It’s beautiful,” he said to himself. “No, that isn’t the right word, it’s too common. Charming, wonderful, glorious,” he shook his head with each word. “I just can’t describe it. The words won’t come. Now Grandfather could--” The young man bit his lip suddenly and blinked back the sudden rush of tears. “No!” he ordered himself firmly. “I will go on. I promised him I would. I’ll go straight down this path and out into the world where men rush hither and yon with hardly a pause for the Creator’s magnificent designs. This will be the first picture I’ll paint.” Sitting down suddenly in the middle of the old rutted path, he gazed steadily at each color and shape so as to fix it forever in his memory. For a time this took all of his concentration, but eventually, as so often happens to even the most dedicated thinkers, his thoughts began to wander. Back they drifted to another autumn day. The young man closed his eyes, lay back with hands clasped under his head and lived that day over again.

    “Come on, Sammy, we still have a long way to go before we reach our supper tonight,” the voice was kind, but Sammy looked doubtful. He didn’t know this man, his grandfather, yet here he was going to live with him until he was ‘of age,’ whatever that meant. Slowly Sammy scuffled along in the leaves wishing he was back in the city with his aunt.
    Grandfather watched him out of the corner of his eye as he kept on striding forward. This boy of eight had been his late daughter’s only child. Not until this morning had he ever even lain eyes on the boy. How would the lad take to living in the country he wondered. It would certainly take some getting used to for both of them.
    The two companions tramped on in silence under the autumn leaves until they came to a small farm house set back at the base of a gentle hill. They had reached home, but the only one to welcome them was a dog who barked and wagged his tail as they came up the lane.
    “Here we are, Sammy,” Grandfather said setting the pack he had carried down on the porch.
    Sammy looked around him. He was not impressed. He had to live here? Even the dog was looked down on with disdain as it made friendly advances. There weren’t even any houses at all within sight. Sammy didn’t think he would like it. In fact, he made up his mind that he wouldn’t like it.
    Picking up the pack once again, Grandfather opened the front door, “Come on,” he gave a jerk of his head. “I’ll show you your room.”
    Listlessly, as though not caring if he ever saw his room, the boy followed. Up the narrow winding stairs and into a small but pleasant room he was led. The roof sloped down on one side of it and a brick chimney ran up near the wall. Two small windows with simple muslin curtains looked out over the barnyard and pasture hill. Sammy glanced around. Disgust was written in every look and movement as he unpacked his things after his grandfather had left him. “This is not a room,” he muttered. “This is a closet. Why Aunt Agnes’ cook wouldn’t even think of sleeping here!” Sammy didn’t know his aunt’s cook, but being a spoiled eight-year-old had given him a sense of knowing everything. Yes, I am sorry to say, Sammy was spoiled. His aunt had even called him a spoiled brat at times behind his back and was greatly relieved when his grandfather came to take him.
    That was how Sammy came to live with his grandfather, but it wasn’t easy for either one to adjust to the other. Sammy didn’t care about anything on the farm. He cared only for himself. Grandfather saw it was going to be a struggle, but he was determined to try his best at raising his grandson to be a true man.
    Only the day after his arrival, Sammy met with a great surprise. Grandfather expected him to work! He was told to bring in some wood for the stove and then to pump water for the cows. Never had he been told to do something he didn’t want to do. Sammy gazed at Grandfather and then turning, stalked out of the house.
    Grandfather watched him from the window. “That boy has got to learn to work. Why when I was his age I was milking the cows, bringing in the eggs, as well as fetching wood and water.” For over an hour the older man waited for Sammy to return with the wood. When he failed to return he went out to find him.
    “Sammy,” Grandfather spoke quietly but firmly to the boy sitting on a great rock. “I told you to water the cows and bring in wood for the stove. Now get to it.”
    “I’m not going to. I don’t have to do anything if I don’t want to, and you can’t do anything about it because I’m eight years old and too big to be punished. Mama said so.” Sammy spoke confidently and with a defiant toss of his head.
    “Anyone who talks that way to his elders is too young not to be punished,” was his grandfather’s reply and without another word he led his grandson to the barn. There Sammy received a licking he never forgot. And though it was by no means the last he received, it had it’s effect. For several days he was careful of the words he spoke.

Have you read this story before?

Would you like living with a relative you'd never met?

Are you excited about the new audio, Christmas book, and TCR-6?