Millie
‘Welcome to Whisper Valley! Population: 25,000,’reads the sign greeting me as I drive across the town's borders and breath in that fresh mountain air. Just being on this side of that sign makes my soul to sing and a broad smile to creep across my lips.I’m home.
Home. I like the sound of that. I like what the word means as it bounces around in my head and inside my heart. Because, while Whisper Valley is new to me, I have great plans to make this place my forever home. I feel sure as the aim of the dart I threw at the map to find this place, that it’s where I belong. Destiny demands it!
Not that everyone in my life has been in agreement, though. When I announced to my family that I was making this move, both my mom and brother thought I was crazy. Heck, evenIthought I might be crazy once I started selling off my worldly possessions for a chance to start again. But in my heart, I knew I needed a change of pace as well as a change of location.
Being stuck in the same lakeside town I grew up in had me feeling artistically uninspired. I was a hair's breadth away from hitting my first ever artist’s block. As much as I love my hometown of Kismet Cove, the picturesque Lovers’ Lake just wasn't doing it for me anymore. So when I came across an advert about a run-down cabin in the mountains surrounding Whisper Valley for relatively cheap, I took it as a sign. Just the idea of being surrounded by picturesque forest has my creativity sparking again.
I got in touch with the agent right away! Now it’s mine and my mind is simplyburstingwith inspiration. Not only for my business, but also the cabin itself. I’m going to document this entire renovation for my followers online.
Slowing down my little camper van—my temporary home while I renovate—I take a deep breath of the clean air and enjoy the views around me. A quick glance at Google had already endeared this town to me, but seeing it in real life is really something else. The buildings are classic but well kept, and you can really tell how much the town planners cared about aesthetics. Little wooden benches line the pavements of the main street, and all their hedges and trees are trimmed and pruned.
"I can't believe a town like this even exists!" I exclaim in wonder as I drive past the absolutelygorgeousTown Hall building. My creative brain immediately runs amok with a million and one ideas and my heart inflates at the prospects of my future here.I’ll never lack inspiration again!
Stopping to pick up a few things from the grocery store, I gush about how great this place is to any local who’ll listen. Then I treat myself to a delicious lemon curd cupcake at the local bakery, delightfully named, Baked With Heart, and get back on the road. Another wave of excitement flows from the top of my head down to my toes as I pass a little establishment called, Valentine’s Bar & Grill, and spot the dirt road leading to my new home.
As the daughter of the City Manager back in Kismet Cove, I’ve been fortunate enough to live what many would call a life of privilege. And while I’ve been camping enough times to know how to pitch a tent and start a fire on my own, I’ve never really been outside my comfort zone the way I am right now. And as my camper van gets swallowed up by the forest, and I feel like I’m being transported to another realm, I know this move is exactly what I need.
"You have arrived at your destination," the faux-cheerful voice of my navigator announces suddenly.
“What?” Confusion fills me as I hit the brakes and scrunch up my face. “Where?”
Spotting two lines of gravel that I assume is my driveway, I turn off the dirt road and find myself in an overgrown clearing in front of what looks like the cabin that time forgot. I turn off the engine to the camper and get out, my feet making athudsound as they hit dirt and create a small cloud. I already need a shower.
“Hmm. This isnotwhat I paid for,” I mutter to myself as I pull out my phone and take a look at the photos on the listing, comparing them to the view in front of me. “How long ago were these even taken?”
If I squint and turn my head a little, I can see that it’s the same cabin in the photos. But this cabin is definitely a lot more overgrown and dilapidated in real life than expected. I expected that I’d need to make a handful of repairs, undertake a bit of cleanup, a lick of paint, and that would be that. But this….
I pick my way through the brush around the cabin and create a mental list of renovations the cabin needs. Rot reigns supreme wherever wood stands or lays, and vines crawl up and penetrate wherever they can. The gardens are a mangled mess, and the grass is about the height of my knees, especially around the back of the cabin.
Coming back around to the front, I don’t even dare try to get inside for fear of falling through the porch. “Well,” I sigh as place my hands on the curves of my hips and take one more look at the state of the place. "This place definitely needs alotof TLC, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I love a challenge, and this is going to make great content."
With a positive spin on things and a determined nod, I tie up my medium-length blonde hair and make my way back to my little camper van. I’ll need to do alotof planning and research before I make a list of all the things I’ll need to buy from the hardware store in town. But as my knowledge and my list grows and grows, so does my excitement to get to work.
And as I take a few ‘before’ shots to share with my followers, I spot a tiny patch of yellow wildflowers peeking out from beneath the crumbling porch, cheery despite their less than ideal surroundings. That’s when I know for sure that this is exactly the way things are meant to be. The cabin may have turned out a lot worse for wear than expected, but that's OK, I can be like those flowers, bright, sunny and cheery as I radiate beauty and work to improve the place I’m in just by being me. When I’m finished with it, this cabin is going to be my home. I can’t wait to get started.
Dylan
Sweat runs down the back of my neck as the muscles on my arm flex then release while I swing my axe, splitting the final wedge of wood with a grunt. I hit it perfectly down the middle and the two halves fall onto the forest floor with a satisfyingthud. I smirk to myself at the sound, surveying the completed pile of chopped wood as I wipe the sweat off my brow with my red, checkered shirt—pulled from the back pocket of my Levis, of course.
Yes, I'm a living, breathing mountain-man cliché. I chop wood without a shirt on, stay away from civilization as much as I possibly can. Plus, I hunt, forage and gather almost everything I need to survive out here on my own, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Socializing is overrated. While I don’t mind spending a little time with family every now and then, the rest of the human race can go and take a long walk off a short pier. I’ve got no time for them.
Picking up the pile of wood and making my way back inside my cabin, I stumble slightly as an old wound rears its ugly head and forces me to limp for a few steps. I grunt my dissatisfaction, hating that this one event from my past likes to consistently remind me of my biggest failure whenever I stand or sit in one position too long. All I want to do is forget…
Rnnnnnnnnnngggggg!
"What the…" The roar of a chainsaw starting then stalling snaps me back to the present. I dump the wood next to my stove as I cock my head to listen before the sounds of the chainsaw start again.
What the actual fuck?
Forgetting all about the pain in my leg, I go outside and grab my axe, half-jogging toward the sound while internally preparing myself for a potential confrontation. Illegal loggers haven't been around these parts for quite some time, and it pisses me off that they'd evendarepull that stunt with me again. My brothers and I made it more than clear their trifling ways weren’t welcome around here.
Weaving my way through the brush, I slow my pace as I get closer to the sound, stopping before I step onto the adjoining property when understanding dawns.Shit. They’re here already…
The last time I was in town gathering supplies, I was told the land next to mine had been sold, but I’d hoped I’d have a little more time before my new neighbors turned up and started tearing down the old, dilapidated cabin in favor of whatever monstrosity they had planned. I could now kiss my quiet lifestyle goodbye with the crunch and whir of machinery, taking over the gentle song of numerous birds and the chirping of crickets. The idea of it has me feeling cranky already. “Fuck.”
Dragging an annoyed hand across my beard, I keep to the tree line as I try to gauge my new neighbor’s plans. There’s a campervan set up to the side with a foldout chair and firepit sitting just outside it, which means whoever it is plans to stay onsite while the work is getting done. And then there’s a pile of lumber and tools that seem to have been dumped haphazardly on the ground.Does this guy even know what he’s doing?
