Link coughed up the dust he had been inhaling for over two hours. As he continued to wipe down the barn with a small brush and bucket of soapy water, sweat continually poured down his face. He could hear the birds chirping outside, meaning his parents had finally decided to start their own chores. He stopped for a second and stood back up, relaxing his tense knees from hunching for an extended period of time. He turned around and checked his progress so far.

The top of the barn was as empty as possible. Link had moved most of the empty crates and piles of hay to the ground floor so that he could easily wash the floor. The wooden floor hadn’t glistened that brightly since the first time he washed it down over 5 years prior. Besides the floor, nothing else was clearly visible except for the little area of the ground that was shined upon by a small crack in the roof, letting in the sunlight.

Link took the time to take off his white undershirt and use it as a towel to wipe the sweat off his face and arms. His mild build that he had obtained through years of working on the family farm glistened and shined from the sunlight that leaked in from that crack. After a couple minutes, he put his drenched undershirt back on and resumed his washing.

After about 30 more minutes or so, which was difficult to tell as time was easily losable in the darkness of the barn, Link had finally finished washing the upper portion of the barn and decided to go eat breakfast, as the aroma of the bacon and eggs his mother had started cooking wafted through the holes in the floor. He carried the bucket of water down the ladder and onto the ground floor. Compared to the upper portion, this floor was a pigsty. The hay piles and empty crates from above covered the mud and animal food spread across the dirt covered floor. Link had tried to clean it before, but the minute he was done, it would always dirty itself up again within the day, his work proven fruitless.

He dumped the bucket into the mud, immediately mixing into a disgusting blob of brown. He opened the door to the barn and finally entered the sunshine. He covered his eyes for a moment, having barely seen any for over 13 hours, since he went to sleep.

When he finally reopened his eyes, the scene around him came into focus. In front of him was a dirt road and on the other side, a quaint house. The house stood nearly 500 meters away, and yet Link could still depict the dull blotches and scratched out parts of the marigold painted house. Each window had light blue shutters that were continuously rocking back and forth, hitting the window with a soft clash. Link began making his way to the house. He passed through a small field of wheat and grass, which swayed in the light wind. Link crossed the dirt road, picking up speed to jump and slide across the hood of the old pickup truck that his dad treasured. The tint of dark blue smeared as he slid across. The car was so important to his dad, Link even stopped to consider wiping it clean again before his dad noticed but decided that food was more important than cleaning the pig pens, the usual punishment for doing things like this.

He ran passed the large pig and cow pens, bordered by wooden fences and the smell of fertilizer. The sounds of the animals scared Link at first, after being in silence for such a long time. They stood still, moving their heads as they watched me run by. He finally made it to the front door which, with its red paint and wired window frame, slowly creaked open with the slightest touch from Link.

The fog from fried bacon whacked Link in the face the second he stepped through the door. It smelled too good to be true. He walked through the over decorated living room. From each green streaked wall hung several pictures and paintings, which his mother and father had obtained through several adventures and challenges. Each one had its own memory and meaning to his parents. Link knew that very few pictures were of him, but he never considered asking why. Besides the ornamented walls, the only other things in the room were two small couches, a wooden table, and a small television.

Link continued into the kitchen, where his mother and father were. In front of Link, at the much larger wooden table, sat his father, smoking a cigarette. He wore a white buttoned-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His long, muddy jeans were kept tight by some thin suspenders. Link’s father crossed one leg over the other and took out his cigarette. He huffed out all the smoke in his mouth right into Link’s face, who then coughed up a storm.

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“Honey don’t do that!” a shrill voice sneered at Link’s father. From the corner of the room, which was shrouded in fog from the coal stove, entered his mother. She wore her dull pink bandana, which she typically wore when she was cooking, and dirty blue overalls, which were covered by a yellow apron. She untied her red bow and bandana and let her black locks swing over and rest on her shoulders. She walked over, arms on her waist, and smacked Link’s father on the back of the head, knocking off his brown fedora, revealing his light gray hair.

“Come now Ruth, it was only a little joke” Link’s father complained. Link, used to the torture of his father’s smoke, continued to the other side of the table, where he sat down quickly and quietly.

“Well it’s dangerous for kids Link’s age to breathe in that filthy smoke, Tom” Ruth snapped back at him. She snatched the cigarette out of Tom’s hand, snuffed it out in the nearby ashtray, and flicked into the garbage across the room. Link did what he usually did after this daily routine and opened the windows next to his seat, breathing in the fresh air that wafted in. Next came the familiar set of questions that Ruth seemed urged to ask him. “Also Link, why do you insist on getting up so early to clean the barn? You can’t even see where you’re going!”

“So that I don’t have to waste such a beautiful day in the barn” Link responded habitually. Ruth walked to the sink, which stood next to stove, and began washing dishes.

“Well I don’t think it’s good for you to lose so much sleep.”

“Mom, I’ve done this every day for over 5 years. If there was supposed to be some consequence to my actions, I think I would have known about it by now.” Ruth frowned, rubbing the back of her head.

“Well, whatever the case may be, I’m glad you can sleep in tomorrow. It’s not every day your Dad and I need to go buy a new tractor. So, take the chance and go have some fun!”

“Okay Mom” Link sighed. Like there was anyone who wanted to hang out with him. To most people in town, he was just the town freak.

“Well then,” Tom sighed as Ruth began setting the table, “what do you plan to do tomorrow?” Somehow, he already knew the answer.

“I plan to go into town” Link answered. The town was the only place to go to in the backwater countryside. Farms, like this one, usually had no equipment to play a sport or entertain kids, so the best place to go was the central town area of Hallowfell. There were restaurants, stores, and plenty of beautiful spots to sit and relax at. It was the place to go whenever someone was bored or needed something. Link went there almost every Saturday and Sunday, as did most kids.

“Well since you’re going to the town, could you pick up a few things for me?” Ruth asked as she set down the food. She rushed over to the counter, grabbed a small piece of paper, scribbled on a few food items, and gave it to Link before finally sitting down to eat. Link scanned it then put it down to eat.

He rushed through the meal, slurping down the strings off bacon and munching at the eggs piece by piece. When the last crumbs were licked off, Link quickly got up and began walking to the door to go finish his chores.

“Hey!” Ruth realized. “Don’t forget to put your bandage on!”

Link had nearly forgotten. He looked to his bare arm and there it remained. The birthmark; at least that’s what his parents said it was to him when he first noticed it long ago. Its dark color that stood out on his skin strangely resembled the letter “L”. More than that, it was ornate. The “letter” surrounding by waves of black, as if floating on water. The curves and turns of the mark burned into his skin as a constant reminder of something he cannot remember.

Link ran up to his bedroom and quickly grabbed the bandage roll of the nearby wooden table. As he walked back to the door, he ripped off a long strip of bandage and began wrapping it around the birthmark. By the time he reached the door, he had finished tying the knot.

He continued with his chores for the day: He shuffled the cows over to their new fenced in pen for the week, he picked up all the new chicken eggs, and among other things disassembled the decrepit tractor that would be replaced a day later. He even had to clean the pickup truck, once Tom noticed the mark on the hood, as Link knew he would.

Night fell like it always did. Link sat on his bed, writing in his journal filled with thoughts, feelings, and pictures. The candlelight by his side served as the only source of light now. He looked out the window adjacent to him, into the pitch-black outside. Nothing stood in the sky now. Apparently, some years ago, the sky was filled with a bright, beautiful tapestry of stars that could penetrate even the darkest of corners. But one day several years ago, they just disappeared. No one knew why, and they never came back. It was hard for Link to imagine what that must’ve looked like, but ideas failed to compare to the descriptions townsfolk had given. It was a time he had never known, and likely a time he never would. The thought made him grip that stupid birthmark on his arm, wishing he could just tear it off.

After a bit he released it, put his journal away, and extinguished the candle, getting consumed by the night.