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sabineelectricheart · 3 years

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A Boring, Old Farm Girl

Summary: Alex thinks the Farmer to be boring and plain. He came to regret this assessment.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 2000

Notes: First time around here. I think it came out pretty well. I hope you like it!

It has been five years. Five years, damn it, and yet I am still here, like some idiot waiting for his saving grace, a saving grace I know that will never come. That I hope never comes.

Whatever happened to all my dreams of travelling the world? Of enjoying everything that life could offer? What happened to becoming a championship-winning gridball player?

I guess you happened.

Where did all my dreams go? Just when, exactly, did I lose sight of all my goals, all my dreams, of everything?

…I guess it was around the time I lost you.

*_*_*_*_*

It was the First day of Spring when I first saw you. You were walking down the lonely street of the town, stopping by every villager you met for a greeting and a polite introduction.

Back then, you were just some ordinary, plain looking girl to me.

Your eyes, normal, your features, normal, your looks, normal. Every single thing about you just screamed 'normal', and that was the kind of girl I would never waste my time on. There were better pickings to be had.

Little did I know that you were anything but normal.

*_*_*_*_*

I am stuck here in my stupid house, too big for just myself, with absolutely no one for company. I have never been that good of a grandson, and I suppose I could not fault my grandparents for passing away so closely to each other. I have never been that good of a friend or neighbour, either, so I am mostly treated with contempt.

I just wish I would have someone to talk to me, to keep me occupied and to make me remember that I am alive, that I am a human being. Anyone, anyone at all would be good enough.

Though, if I am being honest, I suppose I do not want just anyone.

I want you.

*_*_*_*_*

A few days later, you came to my house and introduced yourself. Due to their old age, my grandparents did not spend much time out and about, and you found it to be polite to come and make a cordial visit.

Even your name was a plain name, and so I began calling you Farm Girl, admittedly derogatorily. Yoba, I am an idiot.

You brought cookies, I thought them to be too dry, and animated conversation. My grandmother absolutely adored you, and demanded for you to come more often. You complied, and so became a permanent fixture around our house.

You were just some other Plain Jane, of those you meet in every corner, and I swore to myself, I would never be caught spending time with such a boring person like you.

It is strange how someone I thought to be so boring managed to change my life so much.

*_*_*_*_*

I hate myself for calling you boring and plain all those years back. I should never have thought that way about you.

You were beautiful, funny, amazing, wonderful and anything but plain, but, as I now know, what is said and done cannot be taken back, no matter how damn hard you want to.

*_*_*_*_*

You started visiting every day, and you started talking to me. I could not avoid you forever, so I let myself be caught sometimes when my grandmother was serving tea, I let myself be convinced to stick around for a minute or two, and so you began talking to me.

I guess it was not so much your voice as your personality that attracted me to you.

Your personality, it was anything but normal. It made me want to know more about you, to always want to be with you.

There was just… Something so…

There was something so special about it, about you, that I always found myself being drawn to you.

And from them on, I found myself always hanging out with boring old Farm Girl.

*_*_*_*_*

I still remember calling you that. Boring Old Farm Girl. A stupid nickname, made up by a stupid boy that knew nothing of real life. It was not fair to you that I called you that, and yet, you put up with me.

I guess that is just one of the many things that made me want to get to know you, and it was one of the many things I missed most when I lost you.

Comparing you to Haley, of course I would pick her. She just got this… Energy about her. She is pretty and cute, and definitely not boring. She was exciting in all the right places to turn heads of naïve boys like me.

No matter what you did and what you said, the entire valley routinely picked her over you, so I guess I should be kinder with myself on that point, but then again, I always thought myself to be better than everyone else.

I guess, she just seemed like the right choice for me, but she was not.

You were always the right one for me, Farm Girl, and I guess that is exactly why I chose Haley over you. I found myself drawn to you, but I had to tell myself that Haley would always be the right one for me.

No matter how damn much I wanted to hug and kiss you, I had to tell myself this.

"She's Boring Old Farm Girl. Boring, boring, boring old Farm Girl."

It became my mantra, something I would repeat in my mind again and again whenever I gazed upon you, but you know when I told this to myself the most?

It was when you told me you loved me.

*_*_*_*_*

It was the Twenty-Sixth of Summer when you told me…

Told me… That.

We were in my room, and I can still remember how the conversation went exactly, word for word.

"So, Boring Old Farm Girl, who do you think is the prettiest girl in this village?" I asked, gauging for a reaction. I do not know why on Earth I asked something such as that, but I did.

"Well…” You pouted, as you did when you thought too hard. “I’d think I will say Penny."

"Penny?” I asked in disbelief. “She's just as plain as you!"

I laughed at you for thinking Penny, the only girl in town who was just as normal-looking as you, was pretty.

"What's wrong with that?” You defended, your pitch raising. “Well, who do you think is the prettiest?"

I know I should have said you. I should have said you. I should just damn said it was you.

"Haley, duh.” I snorted. “She's pretty and cute, and way cooler than you, Boring Old Farm Girl."

You did not say anything after that, and I should have gotten it.

Why could not my dumbass mind just process it?

"Hey, why so quiet? Sad that I think Haley's hotter than you?" I teased you, meaning it only as a joke.

A long silence passed before you said anything, refusing to look me in the eye.

"Heh. You know what, Alex? I am sad. And you know why? Because that's how you'll always think. You'll always think of me as Boring Old Farm Girl, and you'll always think that everyone is prettier or nicer or better than me."

"Hey, come on, cannot take a joke, little Plain Girl?" I continued teasing you, still not getting the message.

"Yeah, I guess I can’t." You smiled at me sadly, and never had I seen your eyes so full of sadness.

With that, you made your way towards the door, and just before leaving, you said these words.

"You know what the sad thing about this is, Alex?" You said to me, your voice threatening to break any moment.

"Boring Old Farm Girl loves you." You whispered just loud enough so I could hear, and without another word, you took off.

"Boring Old Farm Girl loves you."

*_*_*_*_*

You know why I remember this conversation so vividly?

Because it haunts me. It haunts me every single damn day of my life, and I just cannot get it to go away. Because getting it to go away would mean erasing one of the few memories I actually have of you, and I cannot bring myself to do that.

Even though they are all bad memories, I do not want to forget them. I cannot forget them. They are all I have left of you, and I have to hold on to them as tight as I can.

When in fact, I should have held onto you as tight as I could, when I actually had the chance.

*_*_*_*_*

As I was digesting what I had just heard from you, Haley barged in, with her annoyingly happy attitude.

She started rambling on about something, probably some girl stuff I would not care about.

Everything you said always interested me. It was probably at that moment I realized that you were the one I wanted. You had always been the one I wanted.

*_*_*_*_*

It is ironic, huh?

The moment I realized that you were the one I really wanted was just a few minutes after I lost you.

Even though I had only known you for a year, I know now that I had always been utterly and irrevocably in love with you, and I would always be in love with you.

But it is just too late now, isn't it?

No matter how damn much I want you, I still cannot have you.

After the… Incident happened, we never talked to each other and never even looked at one another when we crossed paths.

Yoba, I missed you. I missed your chatter, your jokes… Well, I guess I just missed you.

Do you know why I am still here? Because I cannot bear to leave you. Even though we do not speak, I still love you.

I guess I have no right to say that, because I am the one who ruined everything. It is my fault, and like what I have already said, no matter how damn hard I want to take back what I have said and done, I cannot. I know now that it just does not work that way.

*_*_*_*_*

A little over three years later, on the 26th of Summer, you got engaged with the town doctor. A boring, old man.

I was invited to your wedding, but I could not do it. I could not see the woman I loved promise to love another man forever.

And so, while everyone gathered at the church to watch you and Harvey get married, I stayed in my house, and for the first time ever, I cried for you, for me, and for what could have been, us.

*_*_*_*_*

So, like I said. It has been five damn years, and I am still here. I have no dreams now. I have no goals in life. I lost all of them the moment I lost you.

You are content with Harvey now and I know he will treat you well, so I am genuinely happy for you. I am glad you have found someone who will never call you boring or plain, and who will always think you are the prettiest and the nicest person on Earth, and will always want you and no one else.

So yes, I am happy that you have someone who can take care of you and protect you, to do things for you that I could never do. I know Harvey will never call you Boring Old Farm Girl or Plain Girl, so I am glad you are with him now. I do not want you to break up with him for me, of all people.

Even though I want to be with you so much that it hurts, I know Harvey is the right one for you, so all I can do now is sit here in my boring old house, all alone.

Alone, regretting all the things I have done to you. Alone, wishing I could be with you. Alone, missing you.

*_*_*_*_*

Stardew Valley Masterlist

#stardew valley #alex

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wowfan-me · 4 years

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1.3 - GOTHIC EXOTICS

Music: LAST DROP FALLS || Sonata Arctica

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A little earlier...

Life just sucked!

At least, it did for Becky.

This was meant to have been a weekend away with her 'significant other' but, that had all turned to shit five days before.

Eight months ago he had persuaded her to go to the Goth Weekend with him. His thinking was it could be an exciting little change from their usual kind of music venue. Both concert and festival devotees, the majority they had attended had always been enjoyable although sometimes - well... they seemed a little lacklustre.

So, confessing to a fondness for all things 'dark and mysterious' he had badgered her until she'd finally given in. "It'll be fun," he'd said. She'd agreed on a condition though; she would choose the hotel, the costumes, everything. His idea of appropriate accommodation had often left her bereft of words. He'd shrugged and told her to 'go for it'.

Once she'd started looking at the huge selection of Victorian, steampunk and gothic costumes online, she'd started to quite enjoy the thought of dressing up. Pictures of past festivals with the revellers all parading around in some truly extravagant and wonderful costumes started to have a certain appeal. So much so in fact, she nearly blew an entire month's salary on all they would require from travel to accommodation and the epic outfits themselves.

Costumes ordered, she'd checked her mail every day hoping the courier would deliver sooner rather than later. Even with the text message advising her delivery would be on the 21st - (48 hours away, then), she'd still paced the floor until it had arrived - a day early!

She'd eagerly opened the box and checked the contents, making sure everything was present and correct. She just had to show Michael and so she'd jumped into her car and drove over to his place.

Holding the rather heavy box precariously in the crook of her left arm, she'd slotted the key into Michael's front door. She couldn't wait to see him in the costume, he would look so good!

Her happiness took a nose-dive when she'd found him on the couch, jeans around ankles and some naked harlot grinding away on his lap. Becky dropped the box of goodies. It landed with a dull thud.

Michael's reaction was one she would never forget. "Fuck! I forgot you had a key!"

"F-forgot?" Her voice was preternaturally calm.

Whether that unnerved him or not she would never truly know but he did seem to turn a shade or two paler. Pushing the female off his lap - causing her to land unceremoniously on the laminate floor - Michael reached down to pull up his jeans.

Inside, Becky was shocked - then noticeably fuming; raging even! But more than that, she was irrevocably humiliated and hurt. An eerie combination of emotions it turned out to be, for her calm demeanour persevered. "Oh, don't stop on my account," she'd said, eyeing the girl on the floor who was picking up her clothes and trying to dress. "He's all yours."

She'd turned to leave as the sting of tears started to nip.

"Becky! I can explain!" Michael pleaded.

She'd stopped and an uncontrollable need to strike back gripped her. She wasn't the physical type of vigilante though; no, she delivered her deathblows with words. Sometimes, they were downright lies - and in this case, utterly necessary for her to ruin his life as he had just killed hers.

She spun round and with only the briefest of glances in his direction, she let her eyes rest on the semi-clad girl. "Here's a little head's up for you, sweetie. I stopped fucking him over a month ago because we needed to wait until his antibiotics and creams kicked in - again! You're not the first, you won't be the last, but you know what? I'm sure as fuck relieved he won't ever make my crack itch again! Enjoy!" She'd fought a trembling smirk, watching the girl's face harden as she turned incensed eyes to the Lothario.

"Wh -what?" Michael gasped. "She's lying!" He'd begged for the furious fuck-buddy to believe him but she was having none of it. Grabbing the last of her clothes she'd stormed past him and the spookily calm Becky.

Now, subconsciously licking emotional wounds like a cat would clean its fur, she sat outside a harbour-side pub in the Yorkshire town of Whitby, drinking a long gin and tonic. Quite why she still chose to come to the festival was a mystery. She supposed it was pointless not attending, considering she had paid for it all. She even brought the costume she had bought for Michael - another enigma! What the hell was she hoping to do with that?

Watching all the vampires, ghouls, werewolves and other gothic exotics a tiny part of her wondered what it would be like to be such a creature. To look at the world through ageless eyes. To never fear a heart being broken, for it couldn't beat nor feel a betrayal of one once trusted. She scoffed, chastising her idiotic, self-piteous musings.

She took another slug of her drink, her eyes lazily roaming over the punters who meandered along the front, chatting, laughing, embracing the theatrical weekend in its entirety.

And there she sat. Alone. Pathetic. Hating the world, her life, her job. Detesting men.

Then, just across the road standing in front of metal railings, a figure caught her eye. Tall, with long dark hair, dressed similarly to many of the town's visitors stood a man who arrested her attention. His eyes seemed to reflect every spark of light in the vicinity and if she was not mistaken he appeared to be searching for someone.

"Look not upon him, for he is marked," a voice whispered in her ear. Startled, she felt her glass slip from her fingers as she spun to see who had spoken. She could not identify the culprit. Had she imagined it? she wondered. Perhaps she had simply been caught up in the moment; seduced by the atmospheric town. She shook her head. Flights of fancy again.

Turning her attention back to the front, she saw her glass had landed upright on the table. A few punters to her left had turned on hearing the sound of glass hitting the metallic surface but they soon resumed their conversations when they realised there was no drama.

Becky felt a little foolish and a hot flush rose from her neck. She looked over to where the mysterious man had stood but moments before. He was gone. Strangely, she felt disappointed.

Picking up her bag and jacket, she thought perhaps she should retire to her accommodation and ready herself for the rest of the night's entertainment. It would probably take her about an hour by the time she painted her face and squeezed into the costume, but she'd decided she was damned if she was going to let her good money go to waste.

She inched her way out between the seats and started up the small hill towards the Waverley Guest House on Crescent Avenue.

A pair of piercing eyes watched her as she left. Sliding the chair out on which she'd sat, the stranger took her place. Calloused fingers dipped in the small bowl of nuts on the table and he popped one in his mouth, laughing quietly to himself. Once more he'd been distracted by a pretty face; one of his flaws. Someone would be a little disappointed in him - again! With a resigned sigh, he returned his attention to the crowds.

Cain seemed to outwit him quite frequently - for all he was unaware that someone watched him. Remarkable and a little frustrating.

He would find him again though. He always did.

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#Whitby #Goth Weekend #broken heart #cheating boyfriend #costume #fancy dress #Cain #marked #music festival

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