The town lay nestled within the hills, quiet and secluded. Trade rarely arrived from the broad river that flowed through the middle of town, and the merchants that came with them were businesslike and quiet. No one had dared to follow the river’s meandering path, nor did anyone desire to do so. And such, when Captain Tory first arrived, curious questions and rumors swirled about him. The voices of children posited simple inquiries and feverishly tangled theories while parents watched and tacitly mused over the oft-exaggerated nature of a sailor’s tales. As time passed the tales slowly lost their novelty, and the town’s collective interest in him waned much like the styles of olden days. Still, a few held fondly to the stories of the vast
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The rolling hills of town would burst into a soft blanket of green as spring entered, bringing with her all of the standard vernal beauties and graces. The river sparkled in the sunlight and one could see the rounded rocks lining the bottom through the waters clear frame, seemingly inviting him to come and swim in its soothing currents. Stopping to sit down on the bench overlooking the river, he watched the sun slip past the horizon. When the glow of twilight was fading, and streetlights were turning on, he heard a voice in the distance. Beckoning to him like a siren’s song he followed it through the now foggy streets. Darting past pedestrians on an evening stroll and children playing in the streets, he found voice’s source at a pub filled with raucous laughter. Gently pushing open the door, so as not to disturb the scores of patrons within, he snuck through the crowd. Finally, he was able to glimpse Captain Tory himself. The old sailor sat at his table tying off the loose ends of one story’s plot, but much to John’s delight, another was just
The rolling hills of town would burst into a soft blanket of green as spring entered, bringing with her all of the standard vernal beauties and graces. The river sparkled in the sunlight and one could see the rounded rocks lining the bottom through the waters clear frame, seemingly inviting him to come and swim in its soothing currents. Stopping to sit down on the bench overlooking the river, he watched the sun slip past the horizon. When the glow of twilight was fading, and streetlights were turning on, he heard a voice in the distance. Beckoning to him like a siren’s song he followed it through the now foggy streets. Darting past pedestrians on an evening stroll and children playing in the streets, he found voice’s source at a pub filled with raucous laughter. Gently pushing open the door, so as not to disturb the scores of patrons within, he snuck through the crowd. Finally, he was able to glimpse Captain Tory himself. The old sailor sat at his table tying off the loose ends of one story’s plot, but much to John’s delight, another was just