Chapter One: Introduction

There’s a golden crisp feel in the backwoods of Minnesota—a bitter yet sweet scenery as one sweeps through its tall undrapped oak and cider trees. Sprinkled leaves lay restlessly among the rotting woods and blew away lifelessly when a slight crisp air came upon them. Autumn approached Minnesota in its mid-November month where a musty aroma of old leaves and earthy smells filled the air. Much of the rundown town, Mosvil, seemed deserted as very few people desired to leave their homes. Once filled with life and love, family-owned stores are now crackled with holes, debris, and loneliness. Atticus and his wife, Penelope, longed for a sense of meaning and inspiration to spark their marriage. Hence, the couple is on the verge of a hideous divorce. The couple settled for a cheap cabin planted in the repugnant Mosvil. An unhappy glow of despair screeched from the raggedy-moss-covered cabin. There was a thin, crooked pathway with exceedingly thorny bushes and vines that entangled themselves onto the cabin’s exterior. Dew covered the dark pointed grass that was months neglected and needing a trim. The couple approached cautiously with doubt hesitating in the back of their heads. Every step produced an echoed creek throughout the woods; giving an almost empty presence. The cabin’s door needed a slight jolt as if the door had not been open for months or even years. Once opened, sunlight sneaked a thin beam of light, projecting the floating dust throughout the cabin’s interior. Furniture laid with off-white, almost brown, sheets with leaves and broken glass scattered across them. The cabin had an old-fashioned touch with worn-down antiques placed seamlessly perfect as if they were staged. The couple soon began the usual proceedings, carrying their luggage and other belongings and placing them wherever seemed fitting. The sun began settling, sending a subtle wave as if promising a return. Like clockwork, the recurring stars began to sprinkle mindlessly across the blue-black sky yet, seemed so perfectly arranged. Long-screech of howling wolves mingled with the sound of chirping crickets can be heard with a slight echo. Penelope was shifting around the cabin’s kitchen opening all the cabinets and shuffling through the cluttered shelves. Atticus and Penelope haven’t attempted a conversation the entire time or even a glance as if their egos were too large to bear each other’s eyes. As a promising altercation was rising upon the couple, it would soon be broken with a hesitant yet demanding knock at the cabin’s door.