Reyne
Well-Known Member
Just outside of Fairland Springs lies the cemetary on the hill. I turned away and walked back to town after paying my final respects to those who laid there. I reflected on each name, remembering the good and the bad, those liked and those not so much. So many people, so many memories.
As I approached the town's main street, I listened to the sounds of people loading their Conastoga wagons. Children are running around, dogs are barking and giving chase, while frazzled parents are yelling at them to stay out of the way.
I walked slowly on, past the cinema that's shown its last moving picture, the mortuary and the doctor's office next door (I often wondered if that was for convenience), their windows all boarded up. The shopkeepers were loading the last of their goods onto freight wagons.
I walked on until I got to the old newspaper office and stepped inside the room where there were some old editions of the Fairland Springs (Every-Other) Weekly Gazette. There was still a smell of ink, though the Editor-in-Chief had removed the old presses a few days ago. I picked up some scraps of newspaper and turned wistful as I read about old wars, parties at the saloon, stories of famous people as they passed through town, the feuds, and the outlaws who put fear into the common working people.
After some time, I left the newspaper office and headed toward my second story penthouse at the Fairland Springs Hotel. On the way, I saw Henry issuing orders to the kitchen boy. “Make sure those beer steins and whiskey glasses are packed securely!” Sheriff John, who was standing within earshot, hollered over to John, “Make sure those whiskey bottles are packed securely, too!” Henry waved back his assent.
Sheriff John turned his attention back to his own duties at the Sheriff's office, instructing one deputy on how to properly pack the rifles and ammunition, and the other one reminded not to forget the wanted posters and handcuffs.
I went up to my room and out onto the balcony. I leaned on the railing and watched the commotion in the streets. I glanced at the Saloon and saw Waupee mounting his Indian pony. I knew he was headed, for a time, to his family's village. He waved to John and Maya. As he passed below me on the street, I shouted for him to give his family my regards. He waved back and wished me safe travels. I could have sworn.. was that a tear in his eye?
I looked over at Maya who was fussing at one of the saloon dancers who'd dropped a shoe. Her own arms were full of dresses, boas and hats. I yelled at her, “Don't forget your jewelry box!” She grinned at me and responded, “It's already on the stage!”
Waving, I left her to her packing, I turned and went back into my room where my own trunks and valise stood open, waiting for more stuff. I finally packed the last of it, buckled the last strap and called for the bellhop. He was sure going to earn his tip, but I would make sure it was a generous one. The sun was getting low in the sky, so I turned and gave my room a final look to make sure I'd forgotten nothing. I paused as an onslaught of memories assailed me. This had been my home for so long. Finally, I turned and made my way to the door. On my way out, I leaned over and blew out the wick on the lantern. I climbed onto the wagon seat and looked back to make sure my belongings were securely tied. Grabbing the reins, I urged my team of horses into the line with the rest of the wagon train. Only a few stragglers were rushing to finish loading their own wagons. At last, the wagon train started moving out, and the sun set on what was once the thriving town of Fairland Springs.
Written by Reyne, Mayor of Fairland Springs
As I approached the town's main street, I listened to the sounds of people loading their Conastoga wagons. Children are running around, dogs are barking and giving chase, while frazzled parents are yelling at them to stay out of the way.
I walked slowly on, past the cinema that's shown its last moving picture, the mortuary and the doctor's office next door (I often wondered if that was for convenience), their windows all boarded up. The shopkeepers were loading the last of their goods onto freight wagons.
I walked on until I got to the old newspaper office and stepped inside the room where there were some old editions of the Fairland Springs (Every-Other) Weekly Gazette. There was still a smell of ink, though the Editor-in-Chief had removed the old presses a few days ago. I picked up some scraps of newspaper and turned wistful as I read about old wars, parties at the saloon, stories of famous people as they passed through town, the feuds, and the outlaws who put fear into the common working people.
After some time, I left the newspaper office and headed toward my second story penthouse at the Fairland Springs Hotel. On the way, I saw Henry issuing orders to the kitchen boy. “Make sure those beer steins and whiskey glasses are packed securely!” Sheriff John, who was standing within earshot, hollered over to John, “Make sure those whiskey bottles are packed securely, too!” Henry waved back his assent.
Sheriff John turned his attention back to his own duties at the Sheriff's office, instructing one deputy on how to properly pack the rifles and ammunition, and the other one reminded not to forget the wanted posters and handcuffs.
I went up to my room and out onto the balcony. I leaned on the railing and watched the commotion in the streets. I glanced at the Saloon and saw Waupee mounting his Indian pony. I knew he was headed, for a time, to his family's village. He waved to John and Maya. As he passed below me on the street, I shouted for him to give his family my regards. He waved back and wished me safe travels. I could have sworn.. was that a tear in his eye?
I looked over at Maya who was fussing at one of the saloon dancers who'd dropped a shoe. Her own arms were full of dresses, boas and hats. I yelled at her, “Don't forget your jewelry box!” She grinned at me and responded, “It's already on the stage!”
Waving, I left her to her packing, I turned and went back into my room where my own trunks and valise stood open, waiting for more stuff. I finally packed the last of it, buckled the last strap and called for the bellhop. He was sure going to earn his tip, but I would make sure it was a generous one. The sun was getting low in the sky, so I turned and gave my room a final look to make sure I'd forgotten nothing. I paused as an onslaught of memories assailed me. This had been my home for so long. Finally, I turned and made my way to the door. On my way out, I leaned over and blew out the wick on the lantern. I climbed onto the wagon seat and looked back to make sure my belongings were securely tied. Grabbing the reins, I urged my team of horses into the line with the rest of the wagon train. Only a few stragglers were rushing to finish loading their own wagons. At last, the wagon train started moving out, and the sun set on what was once the thriving town of Fairland Springs.
Written by Reyne, Mayor of Fairland Springs
Last edited:
of yesteryear.