Days Seventeen Through Twenty-One

     The days carry on in due course through this sleepy, little town called Glenholm and not a single one is wasted. Beta sprouts next to espinac on the hilltop with a number of other things. Casper sticks wooden supports into the earth where Balor tells him to. Supposedly, stalks as thin as thread that are poking out of the soil now are going to grow into long, stringy vines that will bear fruits one day. Casper has his doubts, but he’s no expert. There are times, however, where he can believe. This morning, as he’s looking on his burgeoning field of green, is one such occasion. A little garden plot, all his own, just to keep him fed. It’s a lot of work.

     Casper insists on helping Balor water it all, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. There’s not much to do thanks to the rain shower that came by before sunrise, so Casper lends a hand with the sprouts in the glasshouse instead. It’s a lot of work, but seeing the fruits of his labours and the fruits to come… For the first time in forever, Casper has an appreciation for the job he been put to.

Day Sixteen - Afternoon

     Casper trudges down the backroad from Smith’s, leaving in a considerably worse mood than when he arrived. Another three weeks his arse, that’s what he said last time!

     “I said three weeks at the very earliest,” Smith puffed on his cigar. High quality stuff too by the smell of it. “And,” Smith continued, “it’s hardly been a week since you been here last, so don’t you go harping on me now boy.”

     And that was the end of that. Showed Casper straight to the door without letting him get so much as a word in edgeways. Casper will be back, there’s no doubt about it. He’ll be counting the days, mark his words and the tally he keeps carved by his bed. He’ll be there… (what’s three by seven again…?) nineteen days later on the dot.