Milton : A BxB Story

One: The Arrival

Chapter One: The Arrival

Milton was a small town in Vermont. Just one of a multitude of small picturesque villages that people flock to during the Autumn to leaf peep or browse quaint main street shops for the perfect antique chair or weathered milk can that would be oh so right in the empty corner of their living room apartment back in whatever urban nightmare they hail from.

There were many people there taking advantage of the tourist trade of course, it was one of the area's main income streams. Many jobs in Milton revolved around keeping visitors happy, and their pocketbooks open. Employers like petite hotels, Airbnbs, restaurants, boutiques, caterers, wedding planners, bed and breakfasts, horse and buggy operators, and the like.

Of course there were also service jobs that catered to the townspeople themselves. People worked at the library, or city hall, or the schools. There were police officers and firefighters, nurses and doctors, a dog catcher, mechanics, dentists, bank tellers, farmers, builders, accountants, whatever people needed to lead normal, everyday, mundane lives in a place with only a handful of streetlights and no fast food to be had for miles around.

A place where things ran a lot slower than the rest of the world.

A town where ... anything might happen.

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In the town there is a road.

On the road there is a fence.

Along the fence there are many, many trees. A tunnel of leaves and branches.

At the end of the tunnel of trees, the end of the fence and the end of the road, there is a pond.

A large pond that separates two beautiful homes.

In one of the houses, the windows are dark.

And in the dark windows, four pairs of eyes watch.

As the windows in the opposite home light up.

For the first time.

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"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Reese Harris slammed his gloved fist against the plexiglass, shouting in the idiotic ref's face.

"IT WAS A FUCKING ACCIDENT, MY SKATES SNAGGED ON HIS FACE BY ACCIDENT! HE FELL!! I COULDN'T FUCKING STOP! IT'S NOT MY FUCKING FAULT HE'S BLEEDING LIKE A STUCK PIG!"

It was quite true. The other player's blood spread across the ice like spilled fruit punch on his mom's favorite tablecloth.

The ref emphatically pointed to the wall, ejecting Reese from the game.

"Fuck you!" he mumbled under his breath, desperately trying to hold back his tears, stumble skating towards his bench.

Never in all of his time on the high school team, never in all of his time playing as a kid, was he ever ejected from a game. Never was he ever so wrongfully accused by a ref.

He held his head as high as possible as the crowd booed him. His last glance of the rink showed the medics out on the ice, tending to the opposing team's player.

In the dressing room, he threw off his gear, literally throwing it, not a fucking care in the least where it went. The team's logo ran across the length of one wall, a twisted snake, along with their name, the Milton Vipers in huge blood red letters. The same color of the blood on the ice.