1st Spring, Year 1.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Alexander mashed his face helplessly into the pillow beneath him, groaning in frustration as even the plush weight of it pressed over his ears was unable to fully silence the shrill mechanical noise.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

What even was that noise?

Alex tried to place it within his sleep fogged mind without opening his eyes. Even though the closed lids he could feel the radiance of the sun beating down on him from the nearby window. He must have forgotten to draw his blackout drapes before he went to bed.

Today was not starting out well.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Okay, let's cut that crap out right now!” Alex grumbled as he rolled onto his side and at last opened sleep crusted eyes.

It was an old mechanical alarm clock, the type he'd last seen in a motel on his drive through the deep south. Probably thrice or more his age, it's crimson numbers blinked with each infuriating beep. It even sounded old, now that he was listening like the clock was struggling its best to produce every beep.

The table beneath it looked just as ancient; a hand carved wooden thing that made up in charm what it lacked in sophistication. This wasn't some thrown together Ikea end table, it the sort of relic that got passed from family member to family member, held onto even though if anyone was honest, it was kind of ugly.

Of course, the big concern was that neither table nor alarm clock belonged to him.

This wasn't his bedroom.

In a panic, he rolled onto his right side, reaching out across the enormous king sized bed to give the bunched up covers a quick tug. They moved freely, but that only filled him with mixed emotions. The bed was empty, and he was alone. It was a small blessing that he hadn't stumbled home blackout drunk with a stranger from the bar, but it did nothing to answer his immediate question. Where the hell was he?

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Oh for...!” Alexander growled, reaching for the alarm clock. Deactivating the alarm proved harder than expected in his exhausted state, but he restrained himself from throwing it at the wall just long enough to locate the switch on its rear facing. It wasn't until the clock had been well and truly silenced that he read the numbers on the old timey LCD. Six O'clock.

For a night owl like him, Six O'clock in the morning was a near mythical time, one that only ever came around when tabletop gaming stretched so far into the evening that it rolled around into early morning. He hadn't set the alarm for six in the morning in, well, ever.

Despite that, he felt surprisingly rested. Alexander was by no stretch of the imagination a morning person, even getting up at his mid-afternoon wake up time on the weekend typically left him a shambling zombie of a man until he'd finished downing a cup or two of the pure powdered sugar and caffeine he called 'iced tea.'

This morning though? Now that he'd pushed through that initial fog of half consciousness, he was quite lucid.

Score one for adrenaline. Alex thought to himself. Even as it crossed his mind, however, he knew that wasn't right. Apart from that initial fear that he'd drunk his way into a one night stand, nothing about the situation he'd found himself in had prompted much of an actual fear response, which was odd in and of itself. He'd just woken up in a strange bed, in a place he didn't recognize. Shouldn't he be more frightened?

Chirp-chirp!

The sudden noise in the still air of the bedroom did send a jolt through him as if to accent just how odd the calm he felt was. It was nothing, of course, just a Blue Jay sitting on the windowsill, babbling away with a number of other birds just out of sight. The bird was beautiful. In truth, Alex couldn't recall the last time he'd seen a bird like that in the city.

Maybe a pigeon that was particularly fearless of the subway that rumbled past his flat on the third floor?

This place was nothing like his flat. No cheap drywall or 'apartment beige' on these walls. These were hardwood, massive logs cut and paneled along the wall to give the feel of a log cabin. No, that wasn't right. He could see part of the outer frame of the building through the room's sole window, and it looked no different on the outside than it did on the inside.

Not exactly a lot of log cabins in the city. Where the hell was he?

Alexander rolled over once again, awkwardly contorting his body until he managed to bring himself fully upright. The comforter fell from his chest as he rose, and he could feel the coolness of the wood beneath his feet as they touched the floor. It was at that point that he realized that however, he'd gotten here, it hadn't been with his clothes.

A short scan of the room with a bed sheet wrapped around his waist confirmed what he suspected. His clothing was nowhere to be found. The search did turn up clothing when he checked the wardrobe, but the flannel work shirts, jeans, and overalls he found there weren't exactly in keeping with either his semi-professional work attire or his more grunge casual wear. He wasn't sure which he'd have been wearing when he got here.

Come to think of it; he couldn't remember much of anything that must have happened in the lead-up to his arrival here. What memories he had of the previous day were fuzzy at best. He knew he'd gone to work. He'd been ill and tried to call in sick, but his boss wasn't having any of it, so he'd dragged himself half dead to his cubicle. He remembered the morning meeting, sitting down at his desk and then...

The sudden sound of knocking from the other room startled Alex out of both his recollections and the bed itself. His bare backside hit the floor with a thud, just barely managing to pull a long white sheet down with him to preserve his modesty.

The knock came again after a brief delay, then a third time after a proper amount of time had passed. Whoever was outside was patient, but insistent. They weren't going away, but maybe they could provide some answers.

“Just a minute!” Alexander shouted at the sound of the fourth series of knocks as he struggled to his feet and cinched the sheet tightly about his waist. A quick peek into the bathroom found surprisingly modern fixtures, save for the claw footed tub that dominated the left side of the room, but none of his clothing. His search of the living room proved no better. A TV, a two chair cafe-style dining room table festooned with books and a thick bearskin rug were the only things of note in the spartan common room.

Definitely no pants.

“I'm coming; I'm coming.” He called out as the knock came again, carefully skirting the two windows on the front of the living room to avoid giving his visitor an eyeful as he moved for the door. It was only once he was safely concealed against the wall beside it that he finally reached for the door.

Alex was surprised to find not a single lock on the old door. His apartment had a chain, a deadbolt, and a knob lock and he still felt unsafe, but his guest could have just walked through at any time, had she not been so polite.

And of course, his guest had to be a woman. Because this simply wasn't awkward enough.

“Oh! Hello, Alexan...” She started moments after the door had opened just wide enough for her to see his face. Her eyes had begun locked on his, but as she spoke they drifted downwards, her words trailing off as that gaze traveled along his bare, muscled chest. “I. Oh my. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to rush this quickly! I'll wait out here until you're dressed!”

It was difficult to place the age of the woman standing on his porch, save for the fact that she was quite a bit his senior. Her dark hair was streaked through with patches of silver, her face creased with lines of age, but without the full on wrinkles of someone in their twilight years. She still cared about her appearance enough to dress well, a prim and proper business casual skirt and blouse, while her cheeks were tinted with the slightest hint of rouge. She looked like every other middle manager who had stopped climbing the ladder in her forties, save for the cute little miniature top hat settled on the back left side of her head.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I'm having a little trouble finding my... wait. Did you just call me Alexander?” He asked.

“Well, yes?” The woman asked in confusion; her eyes still averted from him. “Do you prefer Alex?”

She knew his name. How the hell did she know his name!

“If you're still getting yourself acquainted, I can come back.” She said as she studied the craftsmanship of the wall next to the door.

“I... look, I'm a little confused on what the hell is going on here,” Alex replied, an edge of stress finally finding purchase in his voice. “Like for starters, where are my clothes!”

The older woman looked at him quizzically, her head tilting to one side, that little top hat straining against the pins that must have held it in place. “I'm not sure what you mean. There should be an entire wardrobe full of them. Isn't there?” She paused for a moment, then added. “Medium shirts, 30' waist, right? If they gave you the wrong...”

She was still speaking, but the words were going in one ear and out the other. She didn't just know his name; she knew his waistband size? Just where on earth was he.

“Uh... okay, my mistake. Just give me a minute.” He interrupted before shutting the door in her face. Alex reached for the lock, only to remember there wasn't one, then raced for the wardrobe once again.

A cursory search of the clothes within proved that she was telling the truth. Everything inside was perfectly sized for him, from the shirts and pants to even the socks and underwear. Apart from the tailored suit he owned for special occasions, Alexander couldn't recall the last time he owned clothing that fit anywhere near as well as every single piece they'd provided him.

Too bad it was all ugly.

Alexander wasn't precisely a fashionista. He bought most of his clothing from discount racks or big box stores, but even still he did still have something that could be tenuously called a style. And these were not it. After a veritable rampage through the wardrobe, he'd managed to throw together precisely one respectable outfit, blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a brown leather jacket thrown over it to complete the look.

A glance in the mirror told him he didn't look half bad. The shirt complemented his short, dark hair while hugged him tight enough that it hinted at the swimmer physique he'd held since high school. The jacket helped to give him a slightly more rugged air than he was used to, which was nice. Even at twenty-two, people tended to describe him most often as 'boyish,' and he considered it a lucky night at the club if the bouncer merely checked his ID instead of scratching and poking at it under the assumption he must be some underage kid trying to sneak a few drinks.

He traveled into the bathroom on a hunch that proved perhaps more worrisome than the wardrobe. As he'd feared, the medicine cabinet contained all his usual essentials in brand new, unopened packages. His brand of razor, his shaving cream. Even the weird toothpaste he'd used since childhood due to his hatred for all things minty. Someone had gone to the trouble of stocking all of his necessities.

It was time to figure out why.

“Oh! Alexander! You startled me!” The woman on the porch exclaimed with a laugh. “Did you find everything you were...” She trailed off again, a smile creeping unseen across her face as she followed his gaze.

There hadn't been much to see with the door opened little more than a crack for him to speak through, but with it thrown wide open to confront her, he was in turn faced with the reality of what lay behind the woman on the doorstep. A vast open space of the sort Alex had never, ever laid eyes on.

Alexander had been born in the city, he'd grown up in the city, and he'd lived all of his adult life until this moment in the city. The closest he'd ever come to nature was the park that sat behind their first apartment when he'd been young, or maybe the rooftop garden on the projects when he'd been a teenager.

This was incomparable. Grass and fields as far as the eye could see, with little thickets of trees and bushes here and there that appeared to grow progressively more wild the further they were away from the house. It must be acres of land, all barely touched by human hands. Alex had never seen anything like it, and he was damn sure he wasn't in the city any longer.

“Takes your breath away, doesn't it?” She asked at last.

“I...” Alex stammered, looking down at the shorter woman. “Where are we?”

“Well that is going to be up to you to decide, isn't it?”

Alex felt sudden fear grip his heart. Was this heaven? Hell? Had he died, and this woman was some celestial bureaucrat here to help him nail down his idea of paradise or punishment? “What?”

“Well, it belongs to you now. So you're going to have to name it.” The woman chirped, oblivious to his sudden terror. "Your Uncle called it Birch Branch, but I don't really think the name suits you.”

“Uncle? What are you talking about?”

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she looked up at him. “I'm sorry, you seem confused. I'll just start from the beginning.”

“Please.”

“My name is Marie Mayer. And please, no jokes, I've heard them all.”

Alex stared at her blankly.

“Because I'm the mayor?” Marie asked incredulously. “Your uncle had a much quicker wit; you know that?”

“Still half asleep.” Alex stammered by way of apology.

“Mhmm.” She replied skeptically. “As I said, I am the mayor of Blue Hills. Your uncle asked me to act as a welcoming party should you arrive, and help you with some of your logistics and the like until you're well and truly settled.”

“You keep saying 'your uncle.' I don't have an uncle.”

Another wave of confusion fluttered across the older woman's face. “Are you sure? You are Alexander Adamson, are you not?”

He opened his mouth to say no, but the use of his full name brought him up short. His mom was an only child; he knew that much. But just because he hadn't met any siblings on his father's side didn't mean much. He'd never been very close with his father when he was young, and once dad ran out on them, well, it wasn't like his mom had any reason to keep in touch with her brother-in-law if she had one.

“Less sure than I was a minute ago,” Alex admitted with a frown. “But I'm not sure why any uncle I've never heard of would be so interested in me.”

“You were his last living relative, as I understand it.”

“You mean other than my dad right?” He asked.

“Your uncle never spoke much of his brother,” Marie said cautiously, perhaps suspecting the fragility of the ground she tread upon. “But it was my understanding that his brother had passed away several years ago.”

The notion hit Alexander like a body-blow. The last memory he had of his father was not a good one, a knock-down, drag out screaming match between his parents that had ended just short of physical violence. He'd watched from the top the banister as his father had grabbed his jacket and keys, then stalked out the door. Alex had seen neither hide nor hair of the man for two-thirds of his life, and he didn't miss him. But to hear that for much of that he'd already been...

“I'm sorry. I'm not the person you should have been hearing that from.”

“Yeah, would have been nice if my 'uncle' could have come out to tell me himself,” Alex responded bitterly.

“I... Alexander, you know that he...”

Alex was surprised by how strong that second blow struck him. He didn't consider himself a sentimental type, but to learn that he had someone in this world besides his mother and that he'd lost them without ever even the chance to know them? That was more than he'd expected.

“This is my inheritance then?” He asked.

“Quite right.” Marie nodded. “There are a number of his old books set out on the table when you get the chance. One of them should contain the deed for the property. Once you've settled on a name, you can bring it to the town clerk, and we'll make it official. Get you a proper sign and everything.”

“How did he-”

“A question for a different time.” Marie interrupted softly. “You have a busy enough day without dwelling on ideas like that.” She reached out a slender hand, patting him on the shoulder. “For now, how about we get started.”

“Yeah, I suppose we sho-” Alex started to say, before his thoughts caught up with him all at once. Was he really about to just go along with all this, as if he hadn't just woken up nude in a strange bed with no memory of how he got there? This was barely a step above waking up in an ice filled tub with a letter telling him to go to a hospital! “Okay, no. I need some answers first. Like how the hell did I get here.”

Marie seemed perplexed. “The train.”

“What do you mean, the train.”

“I'm not sure what possible words I could use to describe a train better than just, the train.” She replied, not sure whether to laugh or be offended by his tone. “You came in on the midnight train and then came straight here. I'd just assumed you were tired.”

This was ludicrous. Alex had never been on a train in his life. Even blackout drunk he was fairly certain he'd have remembered hitching a rid. Heck, the only train station he knew back home was the subway! “And what happened to my clothes then? Or my stuff?”

“I'm not sure,” Marie admitted. “Your uncle had employed a housekeeper, who has been keeping the place tidy since his passing. It is possible that she took it for a wash while you were sleeping?”

“The housekeeper comes by before six in the morning?”

“Hmm? Oh, no.” She shook her head; then a smile crept across her face. “Wait, did you sleep this whole time?”

“What do you mean this whole time?”Alex asked.

“Alexander... you got in at midnight yesterday.” Marie laughed. “You are just like your uncle, willing to sleep an entire day away given the chance.”

Alex stared at her blankly. This was getting weirder by the second, but that was the least of his concerns. “Wait, so... what day is it?”

“Sunday, the first.”

“Oh, you have...” Alex swore under his breath, turning to march down the length of the porch as another wave of panic washed over him. “You mean it took me a day to get here, and then a day to sleep off whatever hangover I must have had?! Oh god, I am so fired.”

“Fired?” Marie asked.

“From my job!” He exclaimed. “When does the next train come through?”

“Same time as every month. The twenty-seventh.” Marie replied, before adding. “But before you get carri-”

“The twenty-seventh!” This was a nightmare. This was very clearly a nightmare. He woke up with no clothes in a strange place with a woman telling him his father was dead and he'd already missed a day of work.

He slapped himself. Hard.

“Alex!” Marie shouted.

“Hmm. So that didn't work.” He struck himself again, a full open handed cuff across his right cheek. He didn't have much faith in it, but when the second slap failed Alex decided to try a pinch all the same.

“Alex, stop.” She insisted. “You aren't fired from anything.”

“You don't know my boss. He'd fire someone with ebola for missing a day of work!”

“No. I mean you can't be fired.” Marie said, studying his face. “Don't you remember? You quit.”