Blake Hollow Barn の小説・ストーリー

I don’t fancy a trip to human jail or having to beat yet more men over the head with a baseball bat. Following the faintest hint of Kian’s woodsmoke and whiskey scent, I pass the dilapidated barn that was probably red at one point but now looks more like a muddy brown. I get a whiff of moldy hay and manure that briefly masks Kian’s scent, then circle around the back of the building where it butts up against a small forested area of evergreens.

The wolf was at the door. The forest thinned until the trees broke into a clearing. At the far end, built into the slope of the hill, stood a set of steel blast doors, weather-stained but still humming faintly with power. They were too clean to be abandoned, too reinforced to be anything but military. A crude number was spray-painted across the metal: HB-01. Emily exhaled like she’d been holding her breath since they left the road. “Hollow Branch.” Evelyn tightened her grip on her sidearm, but her hand was slick with sweat. She could feel the heat of Mason beside her, hear the uneven rhythm of his breathing. Something about this place had triggered him more than usual.

Another five minutes of driving deeper into the trees, and then suddenly we emerged into a clearing, and I genuinely gasped. There was a massive barn. It was not like a working farm barn. This one had been completely transformed, painted a deep navy blue with string lights wrapped around every post and railing, creating this warm, glowing effect against the darkening sky. Beyond it, I could see what looked like a greenhouse, and beyond that, rows and rows of something, but I couldn't quite make out from this distance. Miles pulled into a small parking area and cut the engine, then he turned to me with that excited smile again. "So. I just want to say welcome to Harvest Moon."

The farmhouse looked exactly as the reconnaissance had described. A low stone building set back from a dirt track, the red barn listing badly to one side behind it, half its roof gone to whatever storms had taken it. Overgrown yard. Dark windows. The smell of abandonment and old wood and the particular quality of a place that had been empty long enough to forget what occupancy felt like. Nothing moved. Which was, I noted as I crouched at the tree line with Max beside me, slightly too clean. “Something’s wrong,” Max said quietly into the mind link.

“I didn’t realise how close Hawthorn was to the sea.” “It’s not close, exactly, but it’s close enough.” He leant his head on top of mine, and pulled my hands into his lap, holding on to them gently and running the pads of his fingertips across my knuckles. “Was Hollowbridge near the sea?” I shook my head, feeling his bounce with the slight movement of mine. “No. It was rural – all rolling fields and wide rivers, hay bales and green trees.”

I love this place. Blake had this place set up with permission from his dad while he was still in high school, a few years back. It was like a hidden secret garden back here. Beautiful ponds, trees, plants, and flowers were planted everywhere. It's even better at night because of the beautiful lighting he had placed everywhere.

he said, walking back into the room with a warm washcloth and cleaning me up. I pulled my panties back up and rolled to face him. “What kind of call?” He slid back into bed and pulled me onto his chest. “Potential piece of property in Ridgefield.” I sat up and met his eyes. “What kind of property?” “Dumpy house on four acres we’d need to fix up, but there’s a brand-new barn, plus they left the old barn, so it has potential to be converted into bunks and shit. Covered arena means we can ride when it’s raining, but it’s close to public trails, so that’s an option when it’s clear.”

Adults moving with the unhurried purpose of people who felt safe. Wren stared. The stories of Black Hollow had described something built for brutality — a fortress, a stronghold, a place whose architecture reflected its Alpha's reputation. What she saw was a village. A real one. The kind of place where people lived rather than merely survived, which she'd nearly forgotten was a distinction. The cognitive dissonance was sharp enough to overcome her composure. "That's it?" she said, before she'd made the decision to speak. "That's Black Hollow?"

{SAM’S POV} Sam parked, and walked across the property, to the old barn. The “old barn” is all they had to say. They both knew what that meant. It was the place they always went when they lived in Oakville. It was at the back of a property with a vacant house for sale that had been on the market for years. The house just sat there, empty, asking way too much. Nobody ever even came to look at it, as far as they could tell.

We drive a little down the lane, over a slight rise, and then a barn comes into sight. A beautiful barn, really, immaculately cared for and painted in shades of gray. Three little gables peak out of the roof and two little cupolas crown it, weathervanes at their peeks. “Oh!” I say, completely charmed by the sight. But then I see the real draw. In a series of pastures beyond the barn, my eyes can just barely see a group of horses grazing in the afternoon light.