Story-a-Day May Day 3!

2014-11-05 10.40.48

Story-a-Day May continues. I might jump around quite a bit from one story to the next. The stars know I should probably focus on one thing, but that doesn’t always work for me. For some semblance of order, I might write stories in threes. Meaning, for three days I’ll write about one story and for the next three days write about another and so on. And with that in mind, here is day three of The Fairy Tale Asylum backstory.

The townspeople said the construction site was cursed. No one knew how the rumor began, but Delia striding down main street demanding whatever took her fancy probably had something to do with it.

The town was hardly a town. Set up by a lost group of settlers too tired and dispirited to go any further, the main street boasted very little. Delia came in, snapped her fingers, and changed things. The owner of the general store added a fresh coat of paint and trim, the saloon replaced broken windows, and the post office put up a proper sign. A boutique appeared on the corner to sell fine dresses to the wives and working girls. Delia loaned money to a few local women to open their own businesses–a salon, a gift shop, and even a haberdashery and hat shop.

The townspeople were grateful and suspicious. They didn’t know where a single woman with no known history could wield such a fortune. One man decided he didn’t need to pay Delia Fairchild back the money he borrowed. He borrowed the money to fix up the church, add a pretty window and a few hymnbooks. He was doing the Lord’s work and that Delia Fairfield acted too high and mighty anyway. She couldn’t boss him around.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that he choked to death the morning after ignoring Delia’s knock on his door. And while everyone agreed hadn’t forced the man to bite off more than he could chew at breakfast, everyone also made sure to pay their debts to Delia on time and with a smile.

A few workers died at her construction. A couple had fallen from a scaffold, and a third was crushed by a tree being cut down to make way for the road leading through the front gates. Accidents were bound to happen on a site, of course, but the workers and the townspeople remained uneasy. Something wasn’t right. Far too many blackbirds alighted on the beams and scaffolding and storm clouds rolled over the place every afternoon though no rain fell.

But Delia Fairfield had never been happier.

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