Date: Mon, 5 Oct 2015 10:37:48 -0400
From: David Mathenge <romantykeas@gmail.com>
Subject: A Memoriam Of Trees 2

A Memoriam Of Trees

This second part of this story I write is owned by Alexandre Savoie, alias
Romantyke. Every names, characters and events indicia are purely fictional.
Any happenings which tends to be similar to these in any way is entirely
coincidential.

As before, I pray my readers to give Nifty Stories a donation. The gesture
itself is a benefit of generousity, however small the amount of gold being
given. Thank you kindly.

This is the second part of my story A Memoriam of Trees. Sit back, light up
if you care and enjoy!

March 9th 2009
Vallee de la Rouge
Quebec, Canada

It was always a blue sky. Always. The sunshine was dazzling and blazed with
tender warmth on these northern reaches.

Everywhere I looked at, there were pine trees rich with the colour of irish
green. The springtime had made the ice frostings fall from every branch.
Snow still covered most of the ground, but here and there, draughts breezed
warm and made every single day worth it.

The road to the farm I intended to go work at has been a winding one. It
went down the Mont-Tremblant, through the wooded icelands eastwards. All
the time, it was sinking down. Ever and anon. Eventually, the pathless
thickets had stopped going down, until it reached a clearing at the border
of the mountain.

I looked down at my destination for the summer to come. La Vallee de la
Rouge. It was a valley nestled between two high mountains quite far one
from another, in the center of where a beautiful red river flowed all year
and never got frozen over. Fields were scattered all around the water
serpentine trail. And...

There! The farm I was looking for! It was the one.

I lit myself a cigarette, and started to walk down towards the sunlit
valley. The place where I was to learn power nature's bounty do possess.

Dusk had fallen when I knocked at the door. It took a few seconds, and I
saw a silhouette in the glass come closer and answer to greet me. It was a
women of a certain age, but beautiful. Her skin was pale of milk, her eyes
as blue as forget me nots, and under the shawl covering her hair, golden
braids could be glimpsed.

' Ahhh! So, you must be Maxime. The young man, right? '

I smiled politely.

' Yes, Madam. '

' Please! Call me Catherine. Or Cathou. Come on in. We were making
supper. '

I came into the huge mansion which housed the main household of the
farm. Catherine took my luggage and turned to the people all assembled
around the huge wooden counter.

' Everyone, say hello to Maxime! '

They all smiled and waved merrily.

' Hi! '

I looked around the place. I felt like home right away. It was the contrary
of the old dank orphanage. Wooden. Rustic. Humble. And yet with a feel of
being home. No TV. No computer. No stereo in the living room. No microwave.
No electric oven. No dishwasher in the kitchen.

The music came from a historical TSF dating obviously from the 40s.

The kitchen was equipped with old fashioned 60s kits. Oil lamps as well,
though unused, since electricity was keeping three old fashioned wooden
candelabra lit. They were quite difficult to make out at first, because
they were clouded in quite a thick smoke. The main light came from a bright
woodfire in a hearth right beside a staircase which obviously led to the
other floors. The three rooms were immense just at first sight.

I saw right away that just about everyone was a smoker in here. Every man
at least. Less the women. Catherine certainly did seem too beautiful to
smoke.

Amongst the household, there were several coworkers. All from around the
world obviously. WOOFERs, no doubt. Blonds, browns, and even red heads. My
eyes were drawn automically to the one and only dark face in the room.
Before I could examine the guy with my gaydar, Catherine went on.

' Feel free to settle in first. Your bedroom is on the second floor. The
one right in front of the biggest bathroom of the wing. We will continue
making supper. Don't worry, I will make introductions as soon as we tuck
in. Oh, and don't mind the animals around here. We have nine cats and five
big dogs in the house. They are harmless. Sacha will ring the bell
announcing supper. If you need help, just pet our Siberian Husky - The one
here, name's Chaya - on her left ear. She will come to fetch me. You can
trust her. If I haven't come to your aid, shout. '

They called it a barn house? It was amazingly huge! The staircase was
leading on to several other floors up. I turned at the second floor and had
a look around the hallway. It was rustic again. It smelled of wood. A
wonderful smell of home. Everywhere, personal goods were laying just here
and there. Clean golden ashtrays with comfy couches to sit beside while
smoking. Packs of Marlboros all neatly packed. Each drawers were decorated
with biblical statues. That big painting at the end of the hallway was
representing Jesus. The wooden beams were soberly carved, chipped a little
bit with age. But no sign of dirtyness. No sign of decay. No sign of
abandon. It was a old mansion, yet tended with care and love, very
obviously.

The bathroom caught my breath. Catherine was right. It was big. In the
center was a golden bath with four paws like the ancient times. The toilet
was definitely inspired by the colonial age, so was the sink, and that
golden statue holding a really working clock with the balance ball clicking
and swaying.

I startled. I looked down. I breathed again. It was only the Husky. Man.
She was beautiful. Other footsteps could be heard. Then came two toffee
coloured cats, and another dog. A Newfoundland. It was huge. The two dogs
started begging me for a pet on the head. The two cats went into the room
facing the bathroom. I followed them.

It was a spacious room. Big. Airy and bright. Even a hearth in there, along
with the fire kit and some faggots beside the grate, neatly piled in a
small lump on a red carpet. The furniture was all wooden and smelled
nostalgic. The bed was awesome. My jaw dropped and I stood there gaping at
it. It was a canopy bed. With red curtains. A red blanket and red pillows.
It felt so comfy and beautiful.

I started to settle in by putting my clothes in the drawers and lighting a
fire in the hearth. The dogs went near it and layed down for a nice nap in
front of the warm flames. The cats were purring on my bed. I lit a well
earned cigarette and rested a bit on the rocking chair.

Then the bell rang. The dogs and the cats all ran downstairs. I breathed,
then started going down. Was the guy this beautiful, or was it just a trick
of the light?

To Be Continued...

Sainte-Agathe-Des-Monts
Quebec
Canada