A woman and her son worked on a farm in exchange for food and lodging, and by chance, they uncovered a dark secret: someone from their own circle was deliberately sabotaging the place.
A sharp smell of burning jolted them awake without warning, like a thief in the night who doesn’t knock but barges in violently.
Greg sat up in bed with a start, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest. Outside, the night was unnaturally bright—a flickering, eerie glow lit the room, casting long shadows on the walls.
He rushed to the window and froze. It was burning. Not just in flames—everything was devoured by a furious, ravenous fire. Everything he’d built. The barn, his old tools, his dreams, his memories… all of it was being consumed.
His heart stopped for a moment, then pounded in his throat. He understood instantly: this wasn’t an accident. It was arson. And that thought hurt more than the flames themselves. His first instinct was primal, almost animal—to lie back down, close his eyes, and let it all burn to ashes. What did it matter? It was already over.
But then he heard a long, terrified bellow from the cows. His animals, the ones that fed him, the ones that gave him strength to keep going, were trapped inside. Desperation turned to fury. Greg bolted from the house, grabbing an axe on the way, and ran toward the barn. The wooden door was already aflame, blasting heat that scorched his face.
A few hard swings, and the latch gave way. The doors swung wide, freeing the panicked herd. The cows, mooing and shoving, ran to the farthest corner of the field, fleeing the inferno.
Once they were safe, Greg’s strength left him. He collapsed onto the cold, damp earth and watched as the fire swallowed ten years of his life. Ten years of work, pain, and hope. He’d arrived here alone, penniless, with nothing but blind faith in himself. He’d worked till his hands bled, till his back ached. But the last few years had been nothing but a curse—droughts, sick livestock, quarrels with the village.
And now… the final blow. A fire set on purpose.
As Greg sat there, lost in bitter thoughts, he saw movement through the smoke and flames. Two figures, shadow-like, moved with surprising coordination—a woman and a teenager. They hauled water, threw sand, smothered flames with old blankets. As if they knew exactly what they were doing.
Greg watched them, stunned, then snapped out of it and rushed to help. Without a word, the three of them fought the fire until the last ember died. Gasping, burned, but alive, they dropped to the ground.
“Thank you,” Greg panted.
“Don’t mention it,” the woman replied. “I’m Anna. This is my son, Danny.”
They sat by the charred remains of the barn as dawn painted the sky in soft, almost mocking colors.
“You… wouldn’t have any work, would you?” Anna asked suddenly.
Greg let out a bitter laugh.
“Work? There’s enough to last years… but I can’t pay. I thought about leaving. Selling what’s left. Just going.”
He stood and paced the yard, restless. A wild idea crossed his mind—born of exhaustion, despair, and a strange flicker of hope.
“You know what? Stay. Keep an eye on the farm for a couple of weeks. The cows, whatever’s left. I’ll go into town. Try to sell it all. Unlikely, but I need to leave. Even just for a while.”
Anna looked at him, fear and timid hope in her eyes.
“We… we ran away,” she confessed quietly. “From my husband. He hit us. We’ve got nothing. No money, no papers.”
Danny, who had stayed silent, muttered,
“It’s true.”
Something broke inside Greg. He saw himself in them—people life had dragged through the mud, still trying to stand.
“Alright,” he said gruffly. “We’ll see.”
He quickly showed them where everything was—how to use the equipment, where the feed was stored. Just before leaving, already in the car, he rolled down the window:
“Be careful with the village folk. They’re no good. It was them. Had to be. Always breaking things. And now… this.”
And he drove off, leaving behind the smoldering ruins and two strangers he’d entrusted with what little remained of his life.
The moment the car disappeared around the bend, Anna and Danny exchanged a glance. No fear, no confusion—just determination. This was their chance. Their only one.
They got to work immediately. First, they calmed and watered the cows, milked them, and strained the milk. Then they cleared the debris and tidied what was left. They worked without pause, without complaint, with the fierce energy of those who knew they had nowhere to go if they failed.
Days passed. The farm began to transform under their hands. The yard grew orderly, tools were clean, and the well-tended cows gave more milk. From an old fridge that had been more decoration than appliance, jars of sour cream, cottage cheese, and homemade cheese now overflowed.
One day, while cleaning the house, Anna found a folder of Greg’s documents—vet certificates among the invoices.
An idea struck. She pulled out an old notebook and started calling local cafés and shops, offering natural dairy. Most said no, but one day, luck struck.
“Hello? Is this the family café chain ‘Comfort’?” she asked over the phone.
“Yes, speaking.”
After a quick chat, the café’s owner, Elizabeth Howard, agreed to visit. The next day, a sleek car pulled up. A well-dressed middle-aged woman eyed the place skeptically—but after one taste of the cheese, her face lit up.
“My dear, this is marvelous! Real flavor! I’ll take everything! And I’ll keep ordering!”
And so, they had their first customer. Their first step toward a new life.
Meanwhile, Danny befriended a local girl, Olivia. Strolling by the river one day, he complained about the villagers.
“Wait, you didn’t know?” Olivia said, surprised. “Uncle Greg’s gruff, sure, but no one wishes him harm. When his cows got sick three years ago, half the village had the same problem. Some blokes even tried to help, but he chased them off with a shotgun. Since then, everyone kept their distance.”
The words stuck with Anna. At the village shop, chatting with the clerk, she got confirmation:
“Right, love. That feud’s old. Ever since that greedy farmer in the next town started his farm, it all began. Uncle Greg thought we were against him. Shut himself off, grew bitter…”
One evening as dusk settled, Anna and Danny saw a group approaching the gate—ten men and women, walking slow but purposeful. Anna’s heart clenched. Another fire?
“Danny, quick! Get the shotgun!” she whispered, stepping into the yard.
Her pulse raced. She stood by the gate, ready to defend what was now theirs: their home, their fresh start.
The figures drew closer. At the front, an old man in a worn cap stopped… and removed his hat, clutching it nervously.
“Evening, ma’am. We’ve come in peace. We want to talk.”
Anna studied their faces—tired, serious, but not hostile. Slowly, she opened the gate.
“Come in.”
They brought out an old table, set benches around it. The talk was long. Hard. Honest.
The villagers admitted—they’d been stunned by the fire. To them, Greg had become a myth—a man who refused help, ignored advice, held grudges over the smallest slights. But now they saw there was more to it. Someone wanted them divided.
“We’ve suffered too,” the mayor said. “Poisoned well water, sick livestock. Thought it was bad luck… but now it’s clear. Someone pitted us against each other. Someone with an agenda.”
And then they knew.
Behind it all was a rival—a farmer from Milford. Cold, greedy, ruthless. His goal was simple: drive Greg into ruin, make him give up, disappear. Turn the village against itself—easy to manipulate.
“We’ll file a complaint,” the mayor said. “Collective. Against him. For the fire. For everything. Tell Greg when he returns. The village stands with him now. No more puppet games.”
Greg came back in silence, defeated. In town, no one wanted a burned-down farm, let alone one with a “cursed” reputation. He expected to find the place empty. Anna and Danny gone, like everyone else.
As he neared his land, he braced for nothing.
Then… he stopped. The car halted on its own.
Before him wasn’t a half-destroyed yard—it was alive, thriving. The fence he’d meant to fix for years stood repaired. The grass, neatly cut. The cows, well-fed, grazed contentedly. Even the air felt different—full of purpose.
He stepped out cautiously, as if afraid to break the spell, andGreg looked at Anna and Danny, then at the villagers gathered around the table, and for the first time in years, he felt something he’d almost forgotten—hope, warm and bright, like the sunrise over his own land.
