A man without society lives his life nearly alone, but struggles in caring for his olden aunt, yet in a house, a place, a region notorious for looming stories from distant people of a strange belief, about the Burkshire country and an unexplained telling.
September 3, 1967
I will decide to halt my studies at the Huntcount institution near the Hathaway academy, now since it has taken me about some six days to survive my mother and father's deathly suppressions of memory. I was reminded in the same morning of yesterday by a photograph, in neat assemblage, of a happy mood of my father, Charles, and my mother, Diana, on a wood crafted bench of five years ago, in the wedding anniversary. It was still lingering about the papers somewhat, of the significant news on a vehicle accident, that my parents had died, togeather, at a crash on the highway. I was told in delay that a drunken had taken control of a larger vehicle, and struck the poor couple at midnight steadfastly, no warning, and for them and me too.
Within the possesions of my parents, I will start a log or two recording over my father's old and empty military journals. This is familiar to me, as we did these things to record our findings at the institution. The institution assured me of the pardon, and alowed me to reside from the Huntcount, as it was made clear with the council and with professor Callings. The last assignment I had seen of him at the institution was in working with a student and Dr. Simmons, as they had studied for some weeks the method of plant life communication with other plant organisms.
After the death of my father and mother, I asserted to professor Callings of my resignation, although they had offered me the privilage of returning when I could recooperate, yet I wasn't sure of that note. I hope dearly that by some point, how remote it may be, I may readjust my thoughts about the unforgettable loss. I constantly weep over the thoughts of the lost love of mine's.
September 4, 1967
Professor Callings visited me early morning, at the hour when it was cold. He brought in the warmth of my house my accomplished papers and coffee, thank goodness for that fellow professor Callings and his career here. I welcomed him indoors and asked of him about Dr. Simmons. ''Oh Dr. Simmons, he is still working with the ferns and flowers around the lab with Thomas, what a great student.'', he said. ''Yes that's true.'', I mentioned.
He brought me the day's paper, the Daily Fruit, which was the only newspaper to be picked away by the townspeople, villages, and the farmpeople, since I do live miles away from the city. ''Big weather, we're expecting.'', he said. ''Any colder now and our lights'll go out by tomorrow.''. We drank our coffee, and it was splendidly warm that morning. He added the wood to the fire at the fireplace and rubbed himself out of the frost on his nose and shoulders.
''Jeff, what are you gonna do now, no job no money, you gotta think about what's next.'', Callings said. ''The work you did at the institution was without a doubt rewardingly perfect, and you may lose your house within weeks.''. ''I'll come back, Collings, but I just can't keep working with my loss in my head, I just don't have the heart for it anymore, suddenly.'', I told him. ''I tried to lecture my student, but it simply did not work well, when I would just give in that quickly. So he was excused for another professor.''.
''Well, I'll tell ya this, either you could move to Burkshire, or stay here and look forward to failing your job, unless you'll change your ways.'', he said. I looked surely to him, about Burkshire. ''Yeah, yeah that is what I've been turning to all week, moving to Burkshire.''.
He reminded me about my works and study and I assured him of my contenuence at my new home, where my studies would be kept and sent by from, although over a stretch of miles, back to town.