Chapter Text
It was dusk by this point, and the pink clouds started to roll in over the indigo sky. The drive into Pelican Town just seemed to be getting slower and slower as your eyelids set heavy. Maybe it was the tiredness? Or the fact all of your worldly possessions were hauled into the back of your dingy 4-seater for the drive. You had moved out before, plenty of times actually, but you hadn’t made such a long journey to your new apartment or room. You had at least visited the property once in the forthcoming months. But this you hadn’t seen in at least 5 years.
Grandpa’s farm was a nostalgic dream. I was home to many distant, misty childhood memories. It kind of felt weird to be moving in. It felt as if you might be ruining the wonder it enamoured you with in childhood by making it your everyday life, you wondered how this might affect the deep cave of dejection you were already stuck in about your grandpa's death. You sigh, the clowds spun fast past your window, you were driving just a bit over the limit to try and make it faster to your new home. If you could even call it that. Maybe hopping in your car on a whim and deciding to move in wasn’t the best idea to nurse your grief after 3 years. But hey, at least this way you’ll be fulfilling grandpa's wishes.
The 8-hour-long drive sort of forced you to consider the actual logistics of it all. You hardly knew how to grow basil on your windowsill let alone run an entire farm. It somehow felt even worse that you were starting from scratch, grandpa had died three years ago but you only opened the letter he left you last week. And that very concern had been rocking your core for about well, the entire fucking journey. Would the cabin be in good enough shape for you? What if the water wasn’t working? You had never owned a property before so you had no idea how to fix issues like that. You had somehow repaired your washing machine once, only in desperation since you had no insurance sure, but never anything of this scale.
Maybe you would be so busy that you wouldn’t be able to think about grandpa or anyone else for that matter, or maybe you could just sell the property to pay off your university debt.
Why the fuck would you say that?
The car comes to a halt, the tires squealing as you swerve into the dirt. You were 3 hours into the journey and already pulling over to reconsider. You didn’t even really know what you wanted, when did you ever? Why would you ever think its a good idea to move into a quaint village with no friends, no family, no grandpa. After sitting in the car for a minute, feeling the anger and self doubt rise and settle in your stomach, you turn the keys again and start up the car. You then spent a solid 36 minutes driving back to whence you came only to change your mind again and do a 180 to continue following the map to Pelican Town. At 6 hours in you cried at a petrol station in your car and stocked up on a couple of cases of energy drinks for the road. Pulling the car door shut, you sat with the case on your lap.A dejected sigh of relief leaves your lips as you gaze out at the sunset. The sky was beautiful, prettier than anything you’d seen in the sky of the polluted city. The little things like that gave you hope: the farms you had seen dotted along the side of the road, the cows and sheep idling in the acres of fields, forests and distant hillsides. It was all so pretty, and it was everything grandpa loved. You supposed you loved it too, really. The gentle breeze and the orange sky helped you ease yourself again and you pulled out of the petrol station back onto the road.
At 7 hours in your car started to rumble and jostle all too much for you to be anything but worried, you drove on hoping this problem would just disappear if you ignore it (it doesn't). The more you drive the more you hear a distinct ‘ thud-thud ’ in succession every 3 seconds or so. You pull over for what feels like the 10th time this evening and kick your car door open, it was a busted tire, great. You feel your back crunch a little at the sudden change of posture while you lean down on all fours to gather a better look at the damage. There was no significant tear, but you hadn’t caught it losing air earlier and it was completely flat. You haul yourself up and head to the boot of your car. You think you knew how to do this, it was going to have to work because you did not want to end up stuck on the side of this road for hours. With oily hands, you force the wheel into position. Grunting like your old man when it didn't fit perfectly. Wiping your hands on your nice, fitted jeans you grabbed a spanner and made work with the new tire. You regretted hastily ruining your trusty jeans with oil - but you knew things would get dirty when running a farm, why not start now? When you finally changed the tire, throwing the spanner to the side and wiping your forehead it was much darker overhead. You finally get back in your car and begin to hit your 8 hour mark. The car jostled and rumbled down the motorway, bundling over the bumpy terrain of the Calico desert. The endless sand and occasional streetlights swept past your view. Finally, across the distance, you spotted a thick line of trees and a rusted sign approaching that read “Pelican Town: Stardew Valley”.
The noise of relief that left you was honestly a little embarrassing, you gripped the steering wheel so tight that beads of sweat started to drip down your wrists. You were finally fucking here! Your eyes lit up with pure pride for even getting this far as you make the turning into a ditch of trees, sweeping past the sign for Stardew Valley like a hair in the wind. The mountains seemed to swallow you whole as you speed ahead. The headlights of your car beam into the trees of this winding road, it turns and twists around the woods before heading into the tunnel below the bridge. Oh how much you adored riding through this thing as a kid, it always felt like you were “opening the door” so to speak into the Valley, it signified the beginning and the end of your holidays to grandpas. And this time it was a little strange to be starting a completely different journey with such familiar foundations. Every fleeting thought of your worries left you at this moment. You slowed your approach as the road ended, brush and trees around you swayed in the gentle breeze of the night. You parked your car right in front of an old, dilapidated bus. Although it looked abandoned entirely, you wondered whether it was ok to park in front of it until you peeked at the tires, to see them fucked entirely, in no other simpler words. You doubt anyone planned on driving it anywhere in the foreseeable future.
The car door swung open in defeat as you lamely kicked it. It almost felt like you fell out of the car as your legs readjusted themselves to standing. Holding your lower back you twisted and turned trying to stretch the aches and pains of the car ride off. Flipping over your phone from the dashboard you read: “10.23 pm, well shit. I was meant to be here by 8”. Letting out an exasperated breath, you dragged your coat and backpack over you before lugging a cardboard box out of the back passenger seat. You tilted your head to check that it read “Essentials” in what might as well be chicken scratch.Bumping both doors closed with your backside you locked the car with a click of your keys and started lumbering towards Elderfern Farm.
Kicking open the large oak gate probably wasn't your best idea. Exclaiming as one side fell off of its hinges completely, “oh fuck”. You bundled through the opening as the gate swayed open in the breeze, the hinges shrilled slightly, kind of like it was pissed off at you for just kicking it half off of the post. As if this wasn't bad enough, you quickly fell despondent as you got a full look at the farm. It was in pieces, the small cabin held up well enough, but everything reeked of abandonment. The entire farm was infested with weeds, and it looked like any remains of produce was rotting into the ground or eaten by animals. The trees were overgrown and old. Since no one had cleared up from autumn and winter for 3 years now, piles of amber rotting leaves lay everywhere. It tore you up inside a little, that it had been so long since you'd seen it in its glory, and hit you with the reminder of how long it had been since grandpa had died. 3 years wasn't long to lose someone dear, but it was long for a farm to become run down and devastated. You wish you had come sooner, to do a little damage control in the slightest.
The moon cast a shimmering sparkle on the remains of the greenhouse in the brush ahead. Just beyond the cabin the wooden posts still held up some remnant of the glass panels. You remember helping grandpa pick herbs and plants there as a kid, and how you told him you wanted to be like him. The misty memories just hit you like a ton of bricks for a second as you comprehend what you're looking at. In disbelief, you force your way up the rickety wooden steps and drop the box onto the porch. You slump over a little. Maybe it was the heavy box, the sleep deprivation or the grief you weren't sure. But you just needed a minute to breathe. You fish out your grandpa's keys from your pocket. You hold it for a minute in anticipation, running your fingertips over the grooves of the key, and think about grandpa folding it up in the letter. He sent it just for you. Turning it in the lock, the door reels back slowly and the inside is lit with the glow of the night sky.
The moment is slow but the small front room looks fine. It just looks fine. You kick the box into the room with your feet and close the door. Wow, this was a lot. Flicking on the light does… nothing. It does nothing. Of course, it doesn't do anything, no one has lived here for years! You wanted to hit yourself at the stupidity. Stretching over the small dining chairs and table you fiercely swing back the curtains to let some of the moonlight in. With a slither of light, you take in the cabin fully.
The room is modest, holding a living space and a kitchen. One-third is split by black and white lino tiles and the rest old wooden panels. The dingy kitchen looked dismayed. It only had small counters and a little fridge, with a rusty little gas oven and stove, the kitchen was so small it was sort of the kind you would see in a caravan. On the other half, there was a small dining table and 2 chairs beneath a rickety window. There's a big stone and brick fireplace and a box VHS TV sitting next to it parallel to an old dusty armchair. It looks worn but its presence was gargantuan in the light of the room. It gave you a smidge of comfort and familiarity to plop down on the dusty fabric chair. You spot two loose logs still in the fireplace, “Oh yes! Thank you gramps!” using your lighter and some old light fluid from a kitchen drawer to start it up you sit back into the chair. As the flames blaze and whip into the chimney and embers dazzle the dark room, the whole place just glows with warmth in an instant. You pull off your long coat and drop it to the floor, pulling yourself up you sit on the edge of the chair. You begin untying your boots with struggle and kick them off. It was deathly quiet, besides the crackling of the logs in the firepit. You notice your phone is quickly running low on charge, 23% wasn't great but it was your fault for blasting Spotify the entire journey here.
Whatever that's a tomorrow thought . Opening the old bedroom door, the room felt grimey and dead.
The bed was dusty, with thick sheets neatly tucked into each corner. You wonder who cleaned the sheets and made the bed after he passed, who found him, who locked his cabin door and left it waiting for you like he had asked.
You felt a little lost walking into your grandpa's room. You remember how when your family visited, he would always sleep in his armchair while you and your parents bundled into the bed and the air mattress. You laid back into the bed and sat awkwardly. It almost felt like being in an unfamiliar friend's house, like you weren't sure if you were close enough to sit fully in their bed yet, you know? Laying your hands back into the mattress you wonder about how strangely cold Grandpa's bed felt. It just seemed empty, too empty. You tried to shuffle back into it and pull the thin sheets over you but it just felt wrong. There was a wave of depravity that sunk into the sheets as you tried to get comfortable. Fuck, you needed to get new bedding…
Your head sinks into the frail cushion and it frays beneath your head. You had a lot of shit to do tomorrow.