Legends of the Woods

Episode 1, Frilarium Farms

Inspired by the writing prompts at the following link by Christine Graves

Abby and Clarisa walked across the yard toward the old barn. The graveled drive led from the street back around behind the house and past the large wooden barn. Two doors that stood guard at the threshold of the majestic building.

“Abby, Clarisa, don’t get your clothes dirty, and remember, these things are your grandfather’s. Don’t break anything.”

“Ok, Mama,” Clarisa replied.

“I can’t wait for you to see the inside,” Clarisa said, looking at her sister.

The weathered and storied barn beckoned the pair with an air of the unknown.

Abby smiled, glowing with anticipation; “Do you think there are horses?” she asked, her eyes wide with excited wonder.

Near the barn, there was a picturesque garden, a short stone wall encircling the lush green plants, and a tree-lined stone walk. Clarisa, a dark-haired teenager, and her younger sister, who shared her dark hair, tanned skin, and green eyes, reached the barn and together opened the main entrance. The double doors opened onto a wide hall supported by large, tall wooden posts that supported the loft high above. The two sisters peered into the wide open space of the grand building.

“Of course, there are horses,” Clarisa said. “Grampa has asked the Caddo people to care for them. I’m sure Papa won’t change that, her confident voice waning as she spoke.

“We could live here,” Abby said, quietly whispering the wish.

“Last year, Grampa got too weak to ride, and he couldn’t care for the horses alone, so he asked Vrey and the Caddo to help. He was very sad,” Clarisa continued, not acknowledging the wish of her sister.

The two stepped into the barn.

“Wow! I get to see the horses. Have you ever ridden one Claree?”

Clarisa smiled, her eyes moist with memories from the past. “Yes, I rode Ms. Betts with Grampa once when I was your age. Mama got so angry at Grampa that her face turned red.”

“Wow! Do you think I can ride one?”

A horse, hearing the girls, whinnied as if calling them. The bleat of a goat responded to the horse.

Abby stopped, looked at her sister, then back into the barn towards the sounds of the animals, then rushed in. At the first stall, she stopped so fast she almost fell.

“Look, Claree, Look, a horse, a horse,” Abby said, pointing and jumping up and down.

“Abbs, slow down. You don’t want to startle them.”

Abby giggled.

Clarisa reached the stall. “What is so funny?”

“It winked at me.”

“She winked at you. This one is Ms. Betts. Hi, Ms. Betts,” Clarisa greeted the horse, reaching into the stall with her hand.

Ms. Betts, a white horse with black spots scattered across her body, stepped forward and gently nuzzled Clarisa’s hand. “It’s great to see you again. Meet my sister, Abby.”

“Wow, Hi, Ms. Betts,” Abby reached into the stall with her hand. Ms. Betts sniffed it and let out a friendly neigh, “Wow, Abby mused.”

Clarisa guided Abby to the next stall. “And here is Firefly. He was Grampa’s horse. Hello, Firefly.”

“Wow,” Abby marveled, “He’s tall. Ms. Betts looks like a pony compared to him.”

“Can you see the white specs in his black hair?” Clarisa asked.

“yes,” Abby said.”

Clarisa smiled, “That is why Grampa named him Firefly,” Clarisa explained.

“Wow,” Abby said.

Clarisa chuckled at her sister’s amazement and moved on to the next stall. “This one is old, Mr. Hays.” Mr. Hays shook his head and whinnied, stepping forward. Abby reached in and touched the aged brown gelding.

“Look, Claree, he has a grey beard,” Abby laughed. “Maybe you could ride Mr. Hays. I think Ms. Betts wants me to ride her,” Abby said.

“Really? Did she tell you that?” Clarissa asked.

“No, but she winked at me,” Abby said, stepping toward the next stall.

“Look, Claree, goats,” Abby shrieked, pointed, and jumped up and down.

“That’s Annie, Jeb, and Waldo,” Clarisa explained. “That door leads to their outside pen.”

“Hello, Annie, Jeb, and Waldo. Are you having a good morning?” Abby asked the goats.

Waldo, a goat with a grey and black-streaked coat, trotted about the stall bleating. Annie, a white goat with black spots, and Jeb, a black goat, nodded and then trotted around the stall with Waldo. After a bit of this, the three ran out the door into the sun that shone bright outside.

“Well, I guess they did,” Clarisa said, laughing with Abby at the goats’ antics.

“Abbs, come here, look at this,” Clarisa walked to the other side of the big barn.

“I promised Grampa I would let you play on this when you got big enough.”

Abby’s eyes widened as she approached a tire hanging on the wall. Clarisa pushed the tire off its hook, and it swung out into the center of the barn.

“Grampa made this swing so I could play when he was busy in his office. Sometimes, he would push me on it.”

“Neat! Can I go first, Claree, please?”

“Of course, silly.”

The two sisters took turns on the tire swing, their laughter filling the barn. The horses stood with their heads peeking out into the vast hall, watching the girls play. Amid their play, Clarisa shared cherished memories of the farm and their Grampa, while Abby asked questions and interjected with far too many “wows.”

“Why did Grampa have an office out here? At home, Papa’s office is in the house,” Abby inquired.

Clarisa explained, “He has an office in the house too. Out here is where he did things for the animals and the farm. The office in the house is where he helped people who were sick.”

“Wow! Two offices,” Abby marveled. “I’m gonna miss Grampa and the farm,” Clarisa said.

“Maybe we can get Mama and Papa to move, and we could all live here on the farm,” Abby suggested.

Clarisa sighed. “Don’t get your hopes up, silly. The farm is too far from Papa’s work, and Mama loves the city. It will never happen.”

“You never know, I’m going to ask,” Abby said.

Their tire swing adventure ended, and Clarisa led Abby to a door near the back of the barn. The sunlight filtered through the office window, casting a warm glow on the room’s interior.

“Wow, Clarisa, look at the rug. Look at all the colors,” Abby pointed.

“Yep,” Clarisa replied as she went to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Abby, however, fixated on a leather book bag that hung on the back of a chair. It appeared old, and in her imagination, she pictured a young Grampa dressed in boots and a hat and wearing the book bag, Exploring the farm.

“Do you think Grampa and Papa look alike?” Abby asked.

“I guess so,” Clarisa said.

“Look, a book and pencils and a ruler; let’s draw,” Abby said as she pulled the book from the bag and placed it on the desk. Clarisa opened the book.

“Wait for me; I want to see it too, Claree.”

Abby, holding a pencil, began searching for a pencil sharpener, but her quest proved fruitless.

“Shucks, I wanted to draw a picture, but the tip is broken,” she said with a frown. Then she dragged a spare chair to the desk.

“It’s over there, silly,” Clarisa pointed.

The pencil sharpener was an antique, mounted on top of a cabinet, with a hand-crank handle that Abby would need to turn round and round like the one at school.

“Wow,” Abby marveled. “That must be as old as Grampa. I wonder why he didn’t buy an electric one like Papa has at home.”

“Grampa loved old things. He always said the older, the better,” Clarisa explained.

With eager anticipation, the sisters sat at the desk, staring at the treasures before them. The book’s cover read, “A Record of the Odd Folk and Creatures of Frilarium Farms and the Surrounding Lands. By Poddarius Frilarium VI.”

“What does VI vee eye spell, Clarisa? That’s strange,” Abby asked.

“That’s how the ancient people of Rome wrote their numbers. It means six. Grampa was the sixth person in our family named Poddarius Frilarium.”

“Wow! Does that mean Papa is Poddarius Frilarium number seven?”

“Yep, but they say it like this: Poddarius Frilarium the seventh, and the Roman numeral for seven is written like this,” Clarisa wrote VII on a scrap piece of paper.

“Vee eye eye, wow! So does that mean I am Abby Frilarium the First?” Abby pondered.

Clarisa giggled at her sister’s innocence. “No, silly, the first person with the name is just the name, Abby Frilarium. Then the second person gets the number two, Abby Frilarium the second.”

“Hmm. Whatever,” Abby said.

Clarisa opened the book to the center, and Abby urged her to start from the beginning so she could see it all.

“I’ve seen those pages already. I’ll let you look at them when we get home,” Clarisa promised.

“Wow! We get to take it home?” Abby asked.

“Of course. Grampa wrote this book, and there’s no way I’m leaving it here for someone we don’t know to have or throw away.”

“What does it say? What does it say? Let me see. Read it out loud, no fair.”

Clarisa began to read aloud from the book, the words igniting their imaginations. They discovered the peculiar Cregal, described in terms and brought to life through Grampa Frilarium’s detailed and talented drawings.

“The Cregal make their homes in the tallest trees around the farm. The Cregal I call (*****) lives in the Great Oak of the west boundary of the Northeast plot, planted with wheat. If you stand by the Great Oak at midnight on spring’s eve, when the moon is high, you will hear the cries of the young Cregal. They sound like crying children. A pungent odor from the nest often accompanies a sighting of these winged creatures. A typical Cregal family consists of a mother, father, and two or three young.”

“Wow! Grampa could draw really good. Look at that!” Abby pointed at the detailed sketch on the accompanying page.

The creature had a bird-like appearance but featured a unique blend of feathers on its upper body and wings, fur on its lower body, and four legs and arms. Abby couldn’t contain her excitement. “How big are they?”

Clarisa checked the book and replied, “The young Cregal are six inches tall and seven inches long, with a wingspan of twenty-three inches. So, the adult Cregal would be larger than that.”

“Wow!” Abby gasped, “Wow, wow, wow.”

The sisters sat together, their heads nearly touching, exploring the book’s mysteries further. Their adventure was just beginning, and the secrets of Frilarium Farms demanded their full attention. Their mom had called them several times before they realized that she was in the hallway.

“Girls, where are you?” she called again. The horses whinnied. A goat bleated. Abby laughed at the sound of the goat.

“Quick, put it back in the book bag, and don’t mention the Cregal to Mama. She doesn’t like Grampa’s books about monsters and things,” Clarisa whispered urgently.

“Girls,” Mama called again.

“Yes, Mama, we’re in the office, coming,” Clarisa said, waving at Abby to hurry.

As they left the office and closed the door behind them, Abby couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “Are we staying here tonight, Mama?”

“Yes, dear, for the next few nights. I need you to stay close to the house and out of trouble. Your father and I are very busy with the Caddo, Vrey, the moving company, and other arrangements,” Mama explained.

“I wish we lived here, Mama. Look at the horses, Mama, and the goats. Look, that one is Annie, the black one is Jeb,” Abby said, pointing.

“That’s nice, Abby,” Mama said.

Abby and Clarisa exchanged knowing glances. Their thoughts had already ventured to the great oak tree and the mysterious Cregal. The farm was brimming with secrets, and they were determined to uncover some of them before returning to the city.

Episode 2 can be found here.

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© 2022, T. Mark Mangum

I am T. Mark Mangum. From an early age, I was hooked and addicted to the imagined, unfathomable worlds of Star Wars, Star Trek, Conan, the Lord of the Rings, and many others. I love writing fiction tales. I love writing in multiple genres. However, my favorites are Sci-fi and Fantasy fiction. I am a father of six; we have two cats and two dogs. Tabletop gaming is a passion.