herbpasta-blog - Tumblr blog

[herbpasta-blog]

curse of the were-woolie

     The curse of the were-woolie was a well-known tale. At least known by everyone who’s anyone. Or perhaps just a cowboy with a penchant for romanticism and too much time on his hands.

     Having wandered far into the night, lamp in hand, the dark silhouettes had begun to grown nefarious and strange. We aren’t in Westown anymore, Toto.

     Just as he was about to give up his search for the mythical beast and go home, a rustle of bushes catches his attention. Swiveling his wrist, the light of his lamp illuminates patches of the forest in a vain attempt to search for the noise’s source.

     “...Anyone out there?” He states boldly, pausing for a response. So far, only the wind through the trees answered his call.

@grimoiresong

[herbpasta-blog]

     There were perks to the small-town life. One being that everybody knew anybody, and anybody who wasn’t somebody was immediately known by everybody -- in other words, a stranger to the town was easier spotted than a giraffe among a flock of penguins. 

     The furrowed brow, the pouring over a map, the embittered utters of confusion tainted with a pride too large to ask for help themselves. It was a classic case, one Wayne could identify in his sleep. Thus when he spots a boy presenting all the right symptoms, he’s more than happy to casually stroll up next to him and clear his throat.

      “Howdy there.” A smile and a tip of the hat, in typical welcoming Westown fashion. 

     “Pardon the intrusion but I couldn’t help thinkin’ you looked a little lost. Anything I can help with?”

→ open to multiple!

It was the last day of the month and, coincidentally, the day Jamie dreaded the most.

It was errand day: the day he had to venture out of quiet solitude and suffer through overly ecstatic retail employees. 

Jamie was mostly self-sufficient. Animal products? Yep. Fresh fruits and vegetables? Sure! He grew wheat and brought the season’s harvest to the mill for flour — no need to buy bread! Shear some sheep, spin some yarn; knitting can be frustrating, sometimes, but it kept Jamie busy and — after many dropped stitches he would never admit to — cozy in a warm, handmade sweater. 

There were even things he’d collect himself that his ranch failed to provide. A morning fishing trip to the river made for a fresher dinner than supermarket trout, for example. Foraging for herbs and the occasional pontata root could make simple medicine, so there was no need to visit the clinic if he caught a mild cold. 

But there are also things that one simply has to purchase. Before heading out, the farmer had written himself a hasty list on paper: toothpaste, floss, soap, dog food, some pens… It went on, taking up almost half the page. Most of it couldn’t be found in Flowerbud, either, and it was how he found himself here: lost in the middle of some town he’d never been to before, fretting over the unhelpful map within their town square, wondering where on earth he could purchase some kibble for Calvervtutrp — the local farm didn’t have any. 

“What does that even symbol even mean…” Jamie mumbled to himself, staring at the map with a furrowed brow. There was a part of him that knew he could simply go back to the farm and ask for help, but there was no way he was going to do that. He was more likely to stare at this map, scratching his head, for the rest of the day than even think about stopping someone and inquiring directions.

“Where even — ugh,” he sighed, shaking his head. It would surely come to him eventually.

[herbpasta-blog]

     Being a postman, there was hardly any uncharted territory Wayne had yet to come across. Each day carried his feet to and from each town and back in order to deliver the post and packages to their rightful recipients, and each day had its share of surprises.

     Such as, perhaps, a particular farm girl who’d so happened to drift off in the middle of the crossroads. As much as Wayne could say he’s not surprised, he still stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face. He opened his mouth, closed it, paused, then opened it again.

     “Uh... Holly?”

     Taking a step towards her he cups his hand around his chin, hoping to amplify his calls somewhat so that they could reach through the dark cloud of slumber that so clearly encapsulated her. “Hey, Holly.... Holly! Hello...?”

Just For A Second | Open

“Phew! That should do it,” Holly exhaled. She took a moment to catch her breath and used the back of her hand to wipe some sweat off of her face. It had taken practically all day, but she had finally cut down one of the larger trees on her field. It was in the way and getting some spare lumber was always worth it! However, her stamina was suffering as she wobbled her way around her farm. After she got the lumber stored away, she decided that it was a good idea to grab something to eat.

So she set off to the crossroads to get into one of the towns. As she walked (more like stumbled) her way up, she got more and more tired. It probably wasn’t a good idea to cut that tree down all in one day. Holly was realizing this now and her vision started to fade in and out. When she finally got to the crossroads, the three roads before her, she sighed and decided to take a break.

Finding a good spot in the grass, she plopped down to rest. Laying back, she used her hat to cover her face from the sun. Just for a second she told herself. However, her exhaustion got the better of her and the poor girl ended up falling asleep there in the grass and flowers. Gods know how deep of a sleeper Holly was.