Cedarwood Hollow

Chapter 1. January 2nd

In the heart of Cedarwood Hollow, where the snow blanketed every rooftop like a gentle whisper of winter, the world seemed to stand still. The town, picturesque as a painting, held its breath under the heavy cloak of January's chill. Superstitions and traditions ran deep here, weaving through the narrow streets and cozy homes like threads in a tapestry of shared memories and unspoken fears.

Alexandra, with her thoughtful eyes and a heart full of dreams too big for the small town, helped her mother in the bakery her family had owned. The perfume of fresh bread and cinnamon lingered in the air, a comforting yet constant reminder of her everyday life. Today, the bakery was closed, observing the town's strict tradition of reflection and giving on January 2nd, a day when work was put aside to ward off bad luck.

"Alex, remember to take the extra loaves to Mrs. Dalton. She loves our cinnamon swirl", her mother reminded her, her voice as warm as the ovens that had nurtured countless loaves of bread.

"I will, Mom", Alex replied, bundling up in her coat, the loaves secured in a basket. The crisp air greeted her when she stepped out, and the snow crunched under her boots. The bakery, a wooden structure painted in a vibrant shade of red.

Cedarwood Hollow, nestled in the embrace of winter's touch, was a symphony of red wooden buildings and snow-covered rooftops. The town, as if painted by an artist's brush, glowed softly under the blanket of white. Here, solar panels adorn each roof, whose surfaces shimmer with snow.

As she walked, Alex admired the efforts of her neighbors, who were busy clearing snow off their solar panels before tending to their front doors. The soft whirring of wind turbines blended harmoniously with the crackling of chimneys, from which gentle plumes of smoke rose, painting a picture of communal effort and sustainable living.

"Morning, Alex!" called Mr. Johansson, who was perched on a ladder, brushing snow. "Your mom's cinnamon swirls are the talk of the town, as always!"

Alex smiled and waved. "I'll make sure she knows, Mr. Johansson. Stay warm!"

Continuing her journey, Alex's eyes were drawn to the lake on the other side of the town. It wasn't entirely frozen, its dark waters a stark contrast to the white landscape. Wooden fishing boats dotted the lake, a testament to the town's reliance on its natural resources. Fishermen, bundled up against the cold, worked diligently, their catch crucial for sustaining the community.

In the distance, the greenhouses on the town's heights caught her eye. Even in the depths of winter, they thrived, providing the townsfolk with fresh produce.

As she walked, Alex couldn't help but feel the weight of the town's unspoken rules pressing down on her. The town, for all its beauty, was like a cocoon, protective and suffocating in equal measure. Her friends often spoke of the world beyond Cedarwood Hollow, but in hushed tones, as if the very thought of leaving was a betrayal of some ancient pact.

"Why does nobody ever leave Cedarwood Hollow?" Alex once asked her mother, who only replied with a sad smile, "Some wounds are best left untouched, honey. We have everything we need here".

Delivering the bread to Mrs. Dalton, Alex received a warm hug and a knowing look. "Alex, why such a sad look on your face ?" the old woman whispered.

Alex returned Mrs. Dalton's embrace, finding solace in the warmth of her words. She paused for a moment before saying, "I've always wondered about January 2nd, Mrs. Dalton. I don't fully understand its meaning".

Mrs. Dalton responded with a gentle smile, "You have your mother's heart, but your father's spirit, Alexandra. Traditions hold significance, my dear. Today is a day for kindness and reflection to put away bad luck. From what I see, you're embodying the true essence of this day beautifully".

After her round, Alex wandered through the town, she came across groups of people, all committed to helping her neighborhood. Children played in the snow, their laughter a melody against the silent backdrop of the town. It was a day for community, for putting aside one's own desires in favor of helping others.

Returning home, Alex found her mother in the kitchen, preparing a meal for a neighbor who had recently fallen ill. "Mom, do you ever wonder what's out there, beyond Cedarwood Hollow?" Alex asked tentatively.

Her mother paused, her expression a mixture of longing and resignation. "Sometimes, honey. But this town, with all its quirks and superstitions, is our home. It's where we belong".

That evening, as Alex settled into her bed, the glow of the moon gently seeped through her window, casting a serene dance of shadows across her room. She curled up under her blankets, her e-reader in hand, delving into the world of literature. The words blurred as her eyes grew heavy, the day's reflections and mysteries mingling in her thoughts.

Her mind wandered back to the streets of Cedarwood Hollow, its red wooden buildings holding secrets just as ancient as their foundations. The town, with its protective embrace and unspoken past, seemed to be guarding a hidden tale, a truth not yet revealed.

As her eyelids drooped, Alex felt a determination stirring within her. Despite the weight of tiredness pulling her into sleep, she made a quiet promise to herself. She would uncover the reasons behind the town's mysterious caution, the roots of its deep-seated traditions and superstitions. The story of Cedarwood Hollow was waiting to be told, and she was determined to be the one to tell it.

The e-reader slipped from her fingers, its screen dimming to black as it powered off. Drifting into sleep, Alex whispered into the quiet of her room.

Good night, Dad.