Test for chapter 1
Oakhurst is a fascinating town.
I know I should save paper as I am so early on in my expedition, but I can’t help letting my words flow across the page as the train carriage rattles.
The siren call of adventure sings through my soul, I am so close to visiting the place I have spent years gathering tomes and newspaper articles of.
There is little to be said of the destination that tourists stumble on in passing, everyone has good things to say, but its history is a faded painting with nought a brushstroke to discern from the rest of its muddled colours.
I know there’s more to Oakhurst, I can sense it between every line I read and every mile I get closer to its station. Whispers carry on the wind; there is something the visitors do not reveal as they all tell me to go see it for myself.
I can’t wait to see it for myself…
Ancient settlements are so interesting are they not? I hear Oakhurst has risen and fallen many times and yet it is still here to remind us of the word ‘perseverance’. The oral tales I have managed to gather tell of impossible things – supernatural things – that as a scholar I have done my best to avoid (what would my professors think if I indulged in such fantasies?), but… between you and I (this beautiful unpublished paper), there must be some truth when dozens of travellers speak the same way.
I am eager to see it for myself; I have prepared in every way I can and as the train threatens to throw my words to the other end of the page I can’t help but taste the feast of knowledge that will be brought upon me in just a moment.
I have much to learn… and I will make sure I learn all of it.
The train is slowing down but my excitement is not doing the same. I can see Oakhurst outside of my window.
It’s… it’s beautiful…
OMG OMG OMG
No one prepared me for Oakhurst to look like this!
Look at how gorgeous this place is! The art, the architecture, the wildlife!
Shoot, everything keeps falling out of my hands, I wish I had a good surface to write on- Eh, I’ll deal with that later, for now I need to see everything.
I wonder what the people are like! I wonder if this is a place where the history is hard to draw out of people or if it steeps so deeply in the residents that you can hear a tale on every corner.
I want to know it all- Look at those walls, look at the towers and brickwork of this town! There’s wildflowers everywhere and the farmland in the surrounding area is so lush with wheat and cattle.
The forest looks enticing but I can’t spare it more than a glance just yet, I’m here for Oakhurst, I’m here for this town’s story.
Oh the smells, I must have come at a prime time, everyone is milling about and I can smell cooked food in the air. My mouth is watering even though I’ve eaten my fill earlier. I should’ve held off, I want to know what the cuisine here is like, what cultures have influenced their preparations?
I see many shop fronts on the main road, there are workshops and tiny museums- This place is established so much better than the other towns I’ve been to. Someone has planned these buildings meticulously, the layout makes sense and no space is wasted-
I wonder where the library is, I must get to it immediately, I must- No, I need to find an inn or a hotel first…
I suppose I must put my pen and papers away, the time for writing will come later.
There’s so much to remember about this place though. I hope I capture it all.
Finally, a moment to sit down.
The stew here is divine, I’ve got my journal out of my bag and I’ve learnt my lesson, I will carry it everywhere.
(Oops, if you see any crumbs on this page ignore it. Oakhurst knows how to make good bread.)
I have walked through every street of this town, I’m almost thankful it’s so small because there’s just so much to see!
I took a quick look in the library and I am certain I will spend many days there wrapped up in its books. The building smelt like old parchment and ink - just as I like it. Some books had covers that have seen better days but that’s to be expected from Oakhurst’s rural nature.
Surprisingly, what I noticed most from my walk around town were the gravestones. Usually the dead aren’t memorialised within town walls but here they are. I read over the nameplates but I can’t remember them off the top of my head. I will make sure to go back and note them down, I feel like there is something significant about them.
Typically gravestones are moved when their surroundings get established for the living. These ones were planned around and I could see the attention and care put into their upkeep.
I wonder who they are… I wonder if I can find records of them in the library.
Hmm.
Oakhurst is a very interesting place indeed. I can tell tourists and residents apart, I can see that there are places guarded against strangers, things that Oakhurst protects and cherishes.
The inn I have found myself within… It is warm and full. I can see eyes tracing over me, assessing me, and sometimes there is confusion. I want to believe I am out of the norm, maybe I am a stranger to them, a tourist that they suspect, but I keep getting approached… I am spoken to like I belong here, like a journalist who cares about Oakhurst’s history is a welcome sight.
I’m not usually considered a welcome sight. I am nosy by nature, I can acknowledge my interest in the finer details is often irritating. In other towns I am avoided and dismissed.
Every town has its secrets… and often those secrets don’t want to be dug up. The establishments here are well made but I can tell the soil here is freshly turned. There should be older houses, I should be seeing walls that have been tested against the elements but they have not stood long enough to endure that.
I am starting to believe the rumours about Oakhurst burning down. I will keep an eye out for singe marks and when I head to the library tomorrow I will enquire about it to the woman at the front desk.
For now, I will finish my dinner…
I plan to get some information from the residents. I am relieved they are open to sharing information.