© 2017 Alex products LLC
ISBN-13: 978-1981285273
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:
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The story in this book is a work of fiction created from my own imagination. The people’s names, places, times and events were all used in a fictitious manner. Any similarities to the people or the events, whether dead or alive is purely coincidental.
Arthur LeNoir enjoys reading, creating and writing short fiction stories. He works as a farmer during the day.
Julia Grace has been a freelance writer since 2009, working with clients from all around the world. Her greatest accomplishment is raising her four sons, Nicholas, Steven, Tyler, and Cameron.
The Cooper’s Farmhouse
Chris Anderson listened to the incessant droning of Carl Madison, CEO of Calcutta Corporation. He worked at CC, as the Vice president of Marketing and Sales. It wasn’t the largest corporation in Iowa, but it was a great company to work for, and Chris felt blessed to be there.
Chris came from a town of Spencer, in the northwestern part of Iowa. He had grown up on his parent’s large farm up until they relocated to Manson, Iowa, where they remained to this day. Thinking about them made him long for the simple peace of farm work.
He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his current work for almost two weeks now, and it was starting to affect his performance. He was always busy. Vacation time was fast approaching; Chris knew that if he didn’t leave now, he would be fired. The stress would simply become too much.
Growing up on a farm had taught Chris what hard work was really like. But the corporate world was very different from farm life, and he often felt lost. He would sit at his desk and stare through his window for minutes at a time, thinking only about what was going on outside his window. Were there people just like him, working hard, making ends meet, raising their families?
His reverie was cut short by, Carl, who was saying something about bringing the meeting to a close. Chris realized that he’d missed the whole thing.
“Hope none of that was really important,” he mumbled, gathering the papers in front of him. He rose with the intention of returning to his office.
His progress toward the boardroom door was waylaid by the unexpected presence of a small hand on his arm. He looked down at one of his colleagues, a vibrant, rusty blonde with flashing green eyes. Amanda Verden. She was smiling at him. He could tell she knew he hadn’t paid a lick of attention during the meeting.
“Hey,” she whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially, I took notes if you want to look. He made a few points that might be relevant to your end of things.”
“Was it that obvious?” he murmured as they both walked toward their offices.
She giggled. “That you weren’t paying attention? Yes. To me, anyway.”
He grinned at her. “What are you talking about? I’m surprised you even had the time to take any notes.”
Her giggle turned to laughter. “I meant to say that I wasn’t checking you out,” she said in an amused voice. “You know I’m married and have two kids.”
“I know, I know,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “It was a joke. But I would’ve never caught on anyways.”
“Good to know.”
They had reached her office. She put her hand on the latch, smirking. “If I wasn’t, though…”
Amanda had always found Chris to be attractive for his age, with his head still full of his of light brown hair, along with a physique from working out at the gym five times a week and his dimpled smile.
He shook his head, winking at her. “We won’t even go there. Just let me know if you ever get a divorce. Not that I want that.” He grinned, wagging a finger at her. “You are setting a trap for me, aren’t you, Mrs. Verden? Trying to get me in trouble with H.R?”
She flashed him a wide grin. “Oh no….I would never do anything like that.” She turned back toward the door. “Have a great day, Chris; I’ll have Janice type up my notes and email them to you.”
He smiled at her back.
“I appreciate that, Amanda. You have a great day, too.”
He practically ran for his office as she disappeared behind the door to hers. Once there, it didn’t take him long to realize he wasn’t going to get any work done. He shoved a stack of documents into his briefcase before flipping off the light. He decided to stop by Carl’s office to let him know he would be going on vacation next week.
He paused at the secretary’s desk, smiled, then sat on the very edge of it.
“How are you doing, Vanessa?”
The slender black woman before him smiled back. “I’m doing well today, Mr. Anderson. How are you?”
“I’m good well, thanks for asking. Although I am feeling a bit overwhelmed, I need a vacation.”
A look of concern crossed the secretary’s face. He admired the skin of her cheeks and forehead, marveling at their softness.
“Are you alright, Mr. Anderson?”
He snapped back to Earth. “I’m grateful for your concern, Vanessa. I’m all right physically, yes. I just need to get back to my parent's farm for a little while to get away, before my brain melts.”
“I hear that,” Vanessa responded in a knowing voice.
“I’ll bet you do. You have it even harder than we do, in my opinion. You do all the stuff that we don’t have time for.” He bent forward slightly. Tell me, Vanessa, does Carl make you fetch coffee for him?”
Vanessa laughed. “No, sir. After all, he has a Keurig in his office. He doesn’t need me to do that kind of thing.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want you feeling like one of those secretaries of old who had to get coffee and wipe tears.”
They both laughed. “No, no. Here-he’s in. Let me buzz him for you.”
“Thanks, Vanessa.”
She smiled up at him and pressed a button on the intercom box.
Carl was far more accommodating than Chris expected.
“Come on in, Chris. Sit down.”
Chris sat down in the large comfortable chair before Carl’s huge mahogany desk. He had been in Carl’s office before, and was always amazed by the beauty of the Japanese decors and furnishings. Carl had a taste for Japanese arts and knew a lot about their decorating style. He had designed the entire building based on it, so it didn’t surprise Chris that the office felt so Zen-like.
“You’re having some trouble, aren’t you, Chris?” Carl asked, leaning forward on his desk.
Chris made himself comfortable, sitting forward with hands together, elbows on the armrests. “Yeah, unfortunately, I am, Carl. I need to take a week or two and go home to the farm.”
“Are your parents all right?”
“Yes. Old but all right; they're still kicking after all these years. I’m lucky to still have them.”
“Well, they’d only be in their sixties, right? That’s not too old. They could easily live another twenty years.” He spread his hands in a wide gesture of optimism. “But why are we discussing the mortality of your parents? If you need time off, Chris, just take it. You are one of the most dedicated executives we have; I don’t think you’ve taken a vacation day in two years.”
“And I never get sick,” Chris said ironically.
“Isn’t that something? I’ll have Mark keep up with your business while you’re gone. You want to leave immediately; I take it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go right ahead. I need you in peak condition next month, so now is a good time to take your leave and relax for a while.”
“Thank you, sir
. I do appreciate it.” In truth, Chris had expected nothing less. He knew that his reputation for attendance was immaculate, which left his options wide open when it came to vacation time.
The drive back to his condo was quiet. He didn’t turn on his radio; he was lost in thoughts. There was another reason he wanted to take a two weeks’ vacation: he wanted to see what had become of the Cooper family farm. When he was young, he’d played with the Cooper brothers; they’d had a grand time together. He wanted to know what had become, Jed and Marcus, he couldn’t find them anywhere on the internet; not on Facebook, nor Instagram. Chris himself never mentioned about them either, which made him finding them that much more difficult.
For some strange reason, Jed and Marcus had made him promise never to tell anybody about their friendship or where they lived; otherwise; they wouldn't play with him again. Chris never wanted to lose their friendship, so he kept them a secret.
He remembered his fun memories with the boys.
The year was 1988. Chris was eleven years old, the same age as the older brother Marcus. Jed was younger, at nine. By that time, they had been friends for nearly three years. It was that third year when Chris's parents decided to sell their farm in Spencer and buy a new one over in Manson.
Chris would remain in Manson until he turned eighteen, he then headed off to college while his parents and their hired farm hands to care for their farm in Manson. Chris was always grateful they had let him pursue a career in business rather than making him take over the family farm. It might have taught him how to work hard but in his opinion, the work was too hard, and he didn’t want to do it for the rest of his life. He’d never needed to tell them that; they just somehow knew. Neither of them was dictators and he’d rarely gotten into trouble, after moving to the city.
*******
After Chris had taught Jed and Marcus how to play a land version of hockey and showing them pictures of Wayne Gretzky, the two brothers were fascinated. “Wayne Gretzky is the best hockey player ever,” Jed had said, jumping down from a large rock and running across a wooden bridge that stretched across a small stream. He could easily be heard and seen from the other side; it was only about five feet wide. He picked up a rock he’d spied and skipped it out across the water. It bounced sideways and landed on the shore on the other side, just beside his brother’s Marcus’ feet. Marcus looked down at the rock and narrowed his eyes. “You trying to hit me with a rock, little brother?”
Jed and Chris could tell from the tone of his voice that he was joking. The grin that followed proved it.
“If I was, I woulda,” Jed responded with a grin that matched his brother’s.
Marcus leaned down and skipped the rock back across, making it land similarly close to his brother’s feet. They continued this a few more times as they talked to each other. Chris was content climbing up a rope hanging from a nearby tree and swinging himself back and forth. There was no way he was going to drop himself into the stream. It was too shallow. He would crack his skull, and he knew it. His mom had told him that if he ever attempted to jump over that bridge, she would leave him where he lay simply for being stupid. So he never tried, and never would.
“I like Wayne Gretzky, too,” Chris said, pushing himself off the tree. “You know he’s been traded right?”
Jed frowned. “What? Who traded him? How dumb! Why would they do that? He is the best hockey ever.” Jed shook his head. “Dumb. So, dumb.”
“Gretzky is good for hockey,” Marcus said, skipping the rock back to his brother. “But I like boxing more than hockey.”
“I don’t like boxing,” Jed said, in a sensitive soft voice. “I don’t like all that blood.”
Chris laughed. “All that blood? You like hockey where those guys always get in fights and practically kill each other. At least in boxing, they aren’t actually trying to kill each other.”
“They aren’t trying to kill each other?" Marcus asked.
“You know those sharp skates are deadly. You gotta know that.”
Chris laughed, “They are very sharp.”
“But still,” Chris added. “In boxing, all they do is beat each other up, just like Mike Tyson. Nobody’s ever beaten him up yet, and he knocks out other fighters in the first round.”
“Wow, really. You need to show me a picture of Mike Tyson,” Marcus said.
“Which one do you like, Chris?” Marcus asked, turning to look up at him.
Chris shrugged. “I’m a football guy. I like Troy Aikman. He’s gonna be picked up by a major team next year. I’ll bet on it. He’s awesome!”
His friends nodded, and their chatter continued as they played around the stream, the bridge, the hanging rope.
*******
Chris wanted to see that hanging rope again. He wondered if 38 was too old to be swinging on a rope. He laughed as he thought about it. He wasn’t a huge man, but he wasn't eleven anymore, either. With his allowance money that he saved, he’d bought a Wayne Gretzky jersey and a Mike Tyson t-shirt for his two friends, so that they would always remember him, but the hardest part was seeing Jed cry on the day he told them goodbye.
“I don’t want you to go, Chris, I want to still play with you,” Jed told him as Chris was trying his best to comfort his weeping friend. It was one of the saddest days of Chris’ life, to tell his two best friends “Good-bye.”
*******
He arrived at his parent’s house with two weeks’ worth of luggage. He could already feel the peace filling his soul, replacing the worries and stress he’d been dealing with for the past two years. It was as if it all slid off him like a protective skin. He didn’t even take his bags out of the car right away. He got out, and went up the steps and knocked on the door without hesitation. “Mom? Dad?” he called out, opening the screen door and poking his head in. The front door was wide open, so he knew they were there.
“Mom?” he repeated.
“Chris? Is that you?” he heard from the kitchen.
He smiled. If his mom was in the kitchen, it meant she was making a special meal for his arrival. He’d called ahead of time to let them know and make sure they hadn’t made any special plans for the next two weeks. He wanted to spend as much time with them as he could.
He went into the kitchen. His mom met him in the doorway, and they hugged. Before they parted, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, the way she always did when greeting or saying goodbye.
“It’s so good to see you, Mom,” he said, emotionally straining his voice. “It’s been too long.”
She had standing tears in her eyes when she looked up at her only son. “Yes, it has. That’s your fault, you know. You should come home more often. You are too, busy working in the city at that fancy job of yours. Come and sit down.”
Chris laughed. “I like what I do; at least I have that. And I make really good money. I’m secure. That’s what you want, right?”
“Are you happy?” His mother gave him a direct look.
“I am, Mom. I am.”
The look on her face softened, and she nodded, turning back to the stove, attending to something hot and steaming in a large pot. “I’m glad of that, honey. I am. Your dad went to town to get fresh bedsheets and a comforter for your bed.”
“I was wondering, mom. Have you ever seen our neighbors from back in Spencer? The Cooper’s?"
She gave him a quizzical look. “The Coopers? I only remembered the Dawson’s.”
“Not the Dawson’s, they were right across that creek from our house, I’m talking about the family that lived on that farm out yonder in that old looking blue house, you know. It’s the only other farm that was closest to our house. I was wondering what happened to the family that lived there."
His mother looked confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chris. That farm has been abandoned since the nineteen-thirties. There was no family living there when you were young. I do remember you going over there a lot, though. You had such fun. You used to tell me about that dog too; you remember tha
t dog, don’t you?”
Chris smiled immediately. “Of course I remember that dog. And they…” he stopped mid-sentence. He was about to say that Jed and Marcus had a dog of their own named General.
His mother watched him, waiting for him to continue. He looked through the kitchen window in confusion. “Don't you remember Jed and Marcus? Two little boys, that lived over on that farm?” Chris whispered to himself.
Mrs. Anderson raised her eyebrows. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about, Chris? That farm has been abandoned for nearly a century, now. No one ever lived there then; as far as I know.”
He stood up. “I’ll be back in a few days, mom.”
He got up and left quickly. He sat in his car, adjusting the GPS to find the quickest route to Spencer. Driving on the back roads, Chris wondered why his mother couldn’t remember the Coopers, Especially when he himself remembered them so well.
*******
It was very dark as Chris drove closer to the old Cooper’s farmhouse when suddenly; he saw a faint glow of light in the distance in front of him. As he drove closer towards the light, he realized that it was coming from a house on fire. When Chris arrived near the old Cooper farmhouse, he saw flames bursting out thru the windows. Chris stared in horror as he saw people inside engulfed in flames thru the windows of the house waving for help.
Chris picked up his iPhone and dialed nine-one-one, but there was no signal on his iPhone. It was dead. Chris jumped out of his car and ran towards the house, but the heat was too intense for him to get inside. The sounds of people screaming in pain could be heard coming from inside the burning house.
He then grabbed a shirt from the car and wrapped it around his head and ran towards the front porch of the house. Just then, the front door exploded knocking Chris onto the ground. He slowly got back up and stared thru the front door where he saw two kids engulfed in flames crying for help. Chris tried to get up but then fell into unconsciousness from his hard fall.
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