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It has been a little over a month since you arrived alone in Pelican Town to take over your grandfather’s farm. The change has been… difficult, to say the least. You barely knew anything about farming. And while you knew it wouldn’t be easy, you didn’t think it would be this hard.
It’s been backbreaking work. Every day, waking up at six am and working until it’s almost two am, or simply passing out from sheer exhaustion. Clearing debris, chopping down trees, digging into the soil to plant your next crop, realizing that what you just spent a month caring for is actually out of season and you’ve wasted your entire spring.
And that’s not even including the fishing, mining, and foraging you’ve taken up.
When you first arrived, you were excited. A new town, a new start, new people. But with how much work you’ve had, the only people you’ve met so far are the mayor and the local business owners.
You missed your first festival. You had been so busy your first season you forgot to check the mail, you didn’t know that a chance to make a human connection had been given to you on a silver platter. Instead of participating in the egg hunt and meeting your new neighbors, you spent the day wiping slime off your old rusty sword and wearing out your muscles.
The second festival was even worse; the dreaded Flower Dance. You cleaned up as much as you could, and wore the nicest outfit you could find in your limited wardrobe. But it was all for naught. A pit growing in your stomach when you arrived and realized you were surrounded by strangers.
You tried to talk to people. Even asked them to dance if the conversation seemed to be going well. But every attempt was rejected, and you couldn’t blame anyone.
This was also the day when you found out that you weren’t the only new person in town.
Someone else had moved in. Just a year before you, into the little shack on the beach. But any further information was vague. It almost felt like this person didn’t exist, as if they were some sort of well-kept folktale the locals liked to prank newcomers with. But despite their mysterious nature, you knew this beach hermit was real.
The entire time at the flower dance, you kept seeing glimpses of a stranger with long, auburn hair. But they would disappear before you could talk to them. And sometimes when you visited the beach, you could swear you heard a distant piano being played. Especially on days where it was gray and overcast. A soft fog rolling across the beach, that seemed to carry the melancholy melody that came from that little shack.
Maybe this was what led you to stand outside of it at this moment.
Without knowing this person, even their name, you felt a strange kinship with them. Two people new to the town, who had isolated themselves. The town hermits. It made you want to know them.
So when you woke up this morning, you decided you would try to get your chores done early, and finally head down to the beach to greet this mystery hermit. The sky was clear and bright, the sun shone down on you in a way you couldn’t help but find hopeful. But now that you were right outside that little cabin, you felt a sense of dread start to creep into your stomach. You could hear the creaking of the old building settling into the sand, but that was the only thing you could hear.
No piano today. Just an uncomfortable silence.
Regardless, you knocked on the worn wooden door, the sound seemed to echo from inside the building. You could hear the shuffling of papers inside.
After a moment of silence, you knocked again. Harder this time.
“Hello?” You called out, hoping they would hear you. But that was when you noticed that the door was already open, ever so slightly ajar.
Normally you would wait for a response, for a sign that you were allowed to come inside. Not today, though. Perhaps the loneliness you’ve been experiencing since the move had just become too suffocating, because you pushed the door open anyway. Despite how old and worn the building seemed, the door hinges made no sound.
It was dark, the only light coming from the windows that filtered through thin curtains. And as you stepped inside, you realized you were the only person in the room. But someone definitely lived here. You could see the untidy bed, a wastebasket that was overflowing with crumbled papers, cups of tea that had gone cold.
And a small journal.
You’ve never been a nosy person, but something about this whole thing had you… curious. So despite what that little voice in your head called common sense said, you stepped further into the room. Right up to the desk where the journal laid, and opened it to the first page.
Spring 2, Year 1
I believe I am still in minor shock. I never thought I would have the courage to finally cut ties and start anew, to follow my dreams, but here I am! It is intimidating, I will admit. However, I have never felt so free.
I awoke early and watched as the sun rose this morning, the way the golden light shone across the ocean was simply magnificent. Perhaps this is a silly thought, but it felt as though the sun was rising just for me. A new day, for my new life. New friends to be made, perhaps even a lover? Only time shall tell.
I have never felt so excited!
Spring 9, Year 1
It has been a little over a week, and settling in has admittedly been more difficult than I initially thought. The locals seem rather wary, and I cannot tell if that is due to the fact that I am new, or due to the fact that I am simply me.
I have met a few people.
Lewis, the mayor, has already made himself well-known to me. The local carpenter, Robin, came by the day after I moved in to ‘recommend’ installations for my humble cabin (I turned her down, I have not the time nor resources for such an investment). And the local fisherman, Willy, my new neighbor.
Willy is kind, but quiet and reserved. Although he did offer to teach me fishing. Which was a kind gesture, but ultimately did not end well.
It has been a slow start. Both with the adjusting, as well as the work on my novel. But nevertheless, it has only been a mere week, and I am confident that within time I will be just as accepted into the community as any other villager!
Spring 18, Year 1
Things have continued to be difficult. Last week was my first town festival, a peculiar but endearing celebration of eggs. I also quite enjoyed the beautiful decorations and pastel colours, and the food was lovely. Far too many egg products for my taste, however. (Although I suppose that is what you’re bound to get at a festival entirely dedicated to the substance).
I attempted to do some mingling with the townsfolk, but most regarded me with skepticism. I couldn’t help but feel like an intruder, like I had invaded some sort of sacred space and was despised for it.
A small amount of good news though, as it appears that I have acquired somewhat of a friend. Leah, a lovely young woman who I was happy to learn is a fellow artist. We have spoken quite a few times now, and she has even invited me to sit with her at the saloon!
I’ve had a bit of a rough start to this new life. However, this new potential friendship gives me confidence, and I have hope for my future endeavors!
Spring 25, Year 1
Yesterday was an utter disaster.
My second town festival, an event called ‘The Flower Dance.’ Apparently, every bachelor and bachelorette is expected to dance together for this event. They gave me an itchy blue suit that was not at all flattering, and I was practically melting in it underneath the sun.
Additionally, I had anticipated asking my new friend Leah to be my dance partner. However, it appears that she has caught a rather nasty illness and missed the festival.
In some ways I envy her for that. Perhaps if I were sick, I would have an excuse not to show. Then I wouldn’t have had to deal with the embarrassment of being rejected by every person in town, some being far more cruel about it than others.
I spent the festival standing to the side, watching everyone else have fun. The outsider. Eventually the shame became too much for me to handle, and I retreated back to my cabin before the dance was even over.
Summer 16, Year 1
The summer is positively boiling here. However, the breeze from the sea and the summer storms do cool the air at least a little. Although some days the rain is so thick it is difficult to see past the beach, and is often accompanied by a soft fog. On those days I can hear the sound of a foghorn somewhere far out on the waters.
Admittedly, since the Flower Dance I have found myself back in my cabin more often than not. I still go out occasionally, I’ve found myself a bit of a routine of going to the local saloon with Leah every Friday. And I of course go to Pierre’s at least once a week for groceries. But more often than not, I find myself alone.
I’m not even working on my novel, I just haven’t been able to. It’s frustrating, I moved here for the quiet of isolation to focus on my book, and yet I’ve found the loneliness to be the most harmful thing to my creativity. More and more of my days are spent staring at the sea.
Fall 6, Year 1
It has been a while since my last entry.
There was a long while where everything felt… dull. And there was no reason for me to write anything down. But yesterday, something finally happened.
It was my birthday, and while I knew it was on the town calendar (Lewis had asked me when I first moved in), I did not believe anything would come about from it. But I was proven wrong in the most wonderful way.
I got many happy birthday wishes from the townsfolk, many of whom I thought had forgotten I existed. Willy gave me a lovely bottle of squid ink, and Evelyn (a kind old woman who has insisted multiple times I call her 'Granny') brought me homemade cookies! Leah, the wonderful friend that she is, bought me dinner at the saloon. And Gus (the owner of said saloon) gave me a free drink on the house!
This is the happiest I’ve felt since I moved here. I finally feel a sense of community. A sense of belonging, dare I say. This experience has given me both courage and inspiration. And I believe that from now on, I will make an attempt to not be so… alone.
Fall 28, Year 1
Things had been going much better now. I started making friends outside of Leah and my neighbor, Willy.
Going to the library more often, I’ve started talking to Penny (the local teacher). We bond over a love of reading, and she’s even let me assist in teaching the children about literature! We’ve started giving each other book recommendations, and I believe that she wants to start an official book club.
At the saloon, I discovered that the local doctor, Harvey, has quite the appreciation for wine as well. So we’ve started meeting up and doing little wine tastings whenever Gus has brought in a new selection. I believe I’ve also managed to at least start to break through Shane’s (a rather grumpy man that likes to brood in the corner) incredibly rough exterior. At least, he no longer curses at me when I approach him.
But despite these improvements, I believe something has changed. Last night was… strange. It was Spirit’s Eve, and apparently every year a man who everyone knows as a ‘wizard’ sets up a haunted maze.
I’ve never been one for scary things. I admit that I tend to get spooked rather easily. But quite a few of the other ‘bachelors’ in town were going, and they invited me along. I felt honored that I was even being thought of, and it did sound at the very least interesting, so I decided to go.
But then I got separated from my companions.
I don’t know how it happened. We weren’t very far into the maze. But I thought I’d seen something strange and went to look. And by the time I looked back up, I realized I’d been left behind.
I ran for a bit, trying to catch up with the rest of the group, but there was no one. I called out, I screamed until my throat was sore, silence.
I started wandering through the maze on my own. Perhaps I was simply lost? Perhaps in my attempts to reunite with my companions, I’d only managed to go in the opposite direction.
I was on edge the whole time, waiting for things to jump out at me. To run into spiders, cauldrons, even fake, over-the-top bloodied corpses. Nothing. I even started to hope I would run into these things. Anything, to feel like I wasn’t the only person in the maze.
But it was only me, the hedges, and a fog.
The fog felt oddly similar to the fog on the beach throughout the summer. And as I journeyed deeper into the maze, it seemed to get thicker. I felt like I could not see anything.
Until I did see something.
Dark figures in the distance, a glimpse of my companions. I ran, as fast as I could, and there were moments where I was close enough I could hear muffled voices. I started screaming again, calling out for their attention. To notice me.
But no matter how close I got, it was never close enough. Eventually I collapsed from exhaustion. And as I sat there, watching the shadows return into the fog, I realized that I had been abandoned.
By the time I made my way back out of the maze, the town square was cleared of holiday decorations, the sun peeking out in the distance. And yet again, I was alone.
Winter 13, Year 1
I’ve stopped leaving the cabin. I just can’t bring myself to, not after the incident in the maze. Now, I only ever go out out of necessity.
Sometimes I hear knocking on my door, and muffled voices that seem to be calling out to me. As if someone is trying to talk to me. But that can’t be true.
The fog is back on the beach, and I swear it is the same fog from the maze. It’s following me. The fog is following me. It is almost hilariously ironic that my only companion nowadays is the one thing that has truly kept me isolated.
At some point in a fit of rage, I stepped onto the beach and screamed at it. Demanding to know what it wanted. Telling it to go away, that I didn’t want to be alone.
Silence.
I came back inside feeling silly. It is just a simple fog.
Winter 27, Year 1
There is talk of someone new coming to town. A farmer, whose grandfather had been a well-loved member of the community a long time ago. Everyone is ecstatic at the idea of a newcomer, it is all they talk about.
And I have become but old news.
A fading memory, isolated in my little cabin on the beach.
The fog is worse than ever now. Sometimes it is so thick I can barely see my hand in front of me.
But I have grown to accept it. Embrace it.
I am completely, utterly alone. And I have never felt more at peace.
That’s the last entry.
You slowly close the book, dread settling deep in your gut.
A part of you wonders if maybe this was just the book he’d been writing. That this was only fiction. But you know that this is real.
Shakily, you stand up from the chair. You can’t even remember when you sat down. Taking a deep breath, you gather yourself, heading towards the door. It’s closed. You could have sworn you left it open. Shoving that to the back of your mind, you open it and step onto the beach.
It’s cooled in the time you’ve been in the cabin. Stars peeking out as the sun dips over the horizon.
And there is a fog rolling in from the ocean.