From the heart of a wood which lost its name long ago, is a place where a seeker of stories
may go.
If you've arrived in a story's your desire, come, take a seat, for what you require is
a tale from the second storytime.
Hmm.
Oh, hello there.
I, of course, am the first storyteller and, well, I don't suppose you've been to my room
before, eh?
Ah, just listen to that rain.
Is there anything more soothing than listening to rain pinging off the roof?
On a clear night, of course, you can go out that hatch up there and get a very lovely view
of the night sky.
Of course, lots of people aren't fans of cloudy skies and rain.
I'm guessing that includes you too, right?
What you want is a story.
What I do is give you one.
Well, make yourself comfortable then.
Here's a story that collected itself in a bucket along with the raindrops.
On Starry Hill, soft tendrils of sunlight made their way effortlessly through the branches
of sweet birch trees as they approached a small cottage.
The sunlight crept up the roof, unable to discern shingle from moss until it found a
bedroom window and poured itself gently through the glass.
The sunlight inched its way over a scatter of papers, all of which were burdened with
scribblings.
It touched lightly on the edge of a soft bed and crept its way up the cozy, hand-woven
blankets before resting delicately on an absolute mountain of colorful pillows.
Just as the sunlight began to approach, what it was sure would be the bedroom's soundly
sleeping occupant, the sharp sound of a shade being pulled, heralded the sunlight's forceful
departure from Len's bedroom.
Len had not slept.
Not even a little.
Each time he attempted to keep his mind still and quiet, his mental to-do list for the coming
week would escape its tidy structure and scurry around, threatening to be lost and forgotten.
Though it was much earlier than usual on a Sunday, Len threw himself out of bed in the
vague direction of the bathroom.
The potion maker grumbled a series of noises as he dressed and shambled around, trying
not to think about how the lack of sleep was sure to impact the rest of his weekly routine.
At least one workout will probably have to get cut.
His annoyance scowled back at him from the bathroom mirror.
Len trudged down the stairs, trying not to glance at his workbench, which waited with
patient optimism in a corner of the kitchen.
Uh, breakfast first.
Then start the long projects.
It's not like the workbench is going to chide me for being lethargic.
Len said about grinding and brewing a small pot of coffee.
The familiar rhythm of the task and the impending caffeinated comfort was relaxing.
After pouring himself a cup, Len reached into the refrigerator and grasped at the air where
a glass bottle of milk should have been.
Its absence chased any ounce of calm from the room.
How is there no milk?
There should be four—wait.
It's Sunday.
Milk was always delivered on Sunday morning, and Len had put the empty bottles outside
himself.
He shook his head.
Messy strands of brown hair tumbled through his vision as he walked to the front door
and scolded his sleepy forgetfulness.
As Len pulled his front door open, panic exploded through his brain as he discovered a blonde
man crouched by the delivery box, a glass bottle of milk in his hand.
Hey, put that back!
Len snapped an anoints.
Hmm?
The blonde man turned and stood up to his full height.
Len was immediately furious that the man stealing milk from him first thing on a Sunday morning
had the audacity to be so attractive.
This fury fueled all of Len's words.
Maybe to you, that is simply one bottle of milk, but for me, that is the start to my
entire week.
I order exactly four bottles, three of which are used in the variety of potions and products
that I make and provide to everyone in town.
The fourth bottle is for my coffee.
Everything else that I need, I can get for myself, but that milk is of an incredible
quality and starting with four bottles on a Sunday is critically important.
Wow, our milk is that important to you?
A shade of pink appeared, highlighting the freckles on the blonde man's face.
What do you even mean our milk?
Uh, uh.
Len peered past the blonde man to see a cart with the words Dandelion Farm emblazoned
on the side.
The cart was drawn by a huge cow with a shaggy coat falling in a mop over their eyes.
The cow made a low passive sound and Len's embarrassment cascaded down in a silent, invisible
avalanche.
You are the person from Dandelion Farm who delivers the milk every Sunday, whom I have
never seen because I am awake earlier than normal today and you are just making your
delivery and…
Aw, trouble sleeping?
The blonde man's words passed through Len's rambling storm without resistance.
What?
Oh, I suppose?
Sorry to hear it.
A warm smile appeared on the blonde man's face as he placed the glass bottle into Len's
hands.
Len caught the fleeting scent of lavender and muttered some verbal thanks as the blonde
man gave a friendly wave.
Hope your week goes good, the lavender-scented stranger offered.
Len slunk back inside.
Half of his brain fixated on the image of that man's smile, while the other half desperately
wanted to know if Len was going to forget the other three bottles of milk that were
still outside.
When he finally remembered to retrieve the other bottles and set about breakfast, Len
allowed himself to reflect.
That moment had been so terribly awkward, and yet there was a warm feeling that seemed
to persist in the center of Len's chest.
The potion maker had arranged his life in such a way that he rarely interacted with the rest
of the town.
And that was exactly how Len liked it.
The quiet of the woods and the satisfying work of making potions and goods for others
filled Len's days with a structure that brought him joy without an intrusive expectation
to socialize.
But on this particular morning, Len had found a strange comfort in his awkward interactions
with... with...
I didn't ask his name.
Didn't even tell him mine.
Ugh.
The potion maker lamented aloud as he threw himself into his work.
Sunday was always the day that Len started tasks that would take the longest to complete.
Anything that needed a few days to ferment or dry could be prepared well in advance.
Len set about reviewing his orders for the week and assembling anything with high priority.
Remedies for ailments or particular charms which needed time to set were carefully tended
to on the workbench.
Len allowed his sleepy brain to get lost in his work hours passed, and eventually a knock
at the door broke through the storm of frustrated thoughts and focus.
Len was still considering how many portions he would have to divide a cold remedy into
when he pulled open the door to find the blonde delivery man had returned.
As Len's half-opened mouth fumbled for a greeting, the blonde stranger stuck out a
hand.
Kay.
Um, sorry.
I've been making the deliveries for months now, but forgot to give you my name earlier.
It's Kay.
Oh, I'm Len.
The potion maker accepted the handshake.
Kay's hand had the feel of someone who would regularly forget to wear work gloves, and
Len was too distracted to worry if his own handshake could somehow be perceived as stupid.
There was a silence filled with hesitation when their handshake broke.
Len scrambled to think of what social cue he was probably forgetting, but Kay dismissed
that worry.
So, I pass by your house every day when I make deliveries.
Would you want to ride along for a bit tomorrow?
It's—of course!—Len interjected.
Kay blinked in surprise at the quick response.
Oh, well.
Okay then.
I'll be here at five.
That's not too early.
Nope.
Len blurted.
Alright, tomorrow then.
Kay smiled and returned to the cart.
Len closed the door and attempted to process his thoughts.
Why had Kay invited him along on the delivery route?
Why had he agreed?
Now he would have to wake up extra early to be ready for this mysterious cart ride, and
on Monday, he needed Monday to check on the bees and create the more complicated orders.
With a sigh, Len began to mentally reshuffle his schedule.
Monday morning found Len wide awake at four in the morning, just to be sure he had enough
time.
Most of this time was spent with pacing and double checking things, and, of course, morning
coffee.
At exactly five, Len opened the door, determined not to be caught unawares by Kay's arrival.
However, Len was only greeted by crisp morning air and sleepy sunlight.
Before there was a chance to berate himself for getting his hopes up, a familiar cart
pulled into view on the dirt road and slowed to a halt.
Morning, Kay called with a cheerful wave.
Len approached the cart, and, oblivious to Kay's outstretched hand, pulled himself up
into the seat.
Did you sleep any better last night?
Kay asked as he stirred the cow, and the cart began to roll.
Hmm?
Oh, yeah, still a bit early.
What was it you wanted to show me anyway?
Show you?
What's the point of this whole ride thing when he waved his hand sleepily?
Oh, well, Kay's fumbling for a response went unnoticed as Len was still waking up.
I just felt bad about surprising you yesterday, so I thought maybe you'd like proof that
I wasn't out to steal your milk?
Len nodded and accepted this desperate logic without question.
The morning sounds of animals rose with the sunlight, barely perceptible at first, before
settling into a comforting ambiance.
Len realized that they had been riding in silence, just as the cart halted in front
of a home with a short woman standing by the door.
She approached the cart, and her expression turned icy when she spotted Len.
Well, good morning to you Kay.
Wasn't expecting you, Leneford, she hissed.
We've been over this, Madam Plum.
My name is not Leneford.
It's just Len.
Oh, right.
Well, maybe if the strange old hermit came out of his cave more often, she prattled.
Madam, you collect the goods and orders from my home once a week, and you know my name.
Madam Plum grumbled a few words under her breath as she swapped her empty bottle for
the full one waiting in Kay's outstretched hands.
Why can't you be sunny and sweet, like that one, she snapped, gesturing to Kay before
she turned on her heel and retreated into her house.
The comfortable, sleepy silence from earlier was now replaced with an awkward one as Kay
drove the cart back towards Len's home.
So Kay broke the silence gently.
Len slouched as low as he could into the cart.
For the first couple of months I started selling things.
Madam Plum would always try to invite herself in.
When I finally allowed it, she expected me to have tea and snacks for her.
I only had coffee and nothing to eat because it's almost as though I lived by myself and
didn't have food prepared for a company that I wasn't expecting.
When I tried to explain this, she called me rude and unneighborly.
She's been that way with me ever since and too much effort to put on an act and try to
change her opinion Kay offered.
Len turned slowly.
Kay's bright blue eyes were fixed on the road ahead.
An effortless smile sat underneath constellations of freckles and Len felt his sour mood uncoil
and fall away as the blonde man turned to meet his gaze.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Kay broke the silence with, here we
are.
Len turned around sharply to see his own front door.
The reality that this had been what Kay was looking at crashed on the potion maker like
ice water.
Before he could stop himself, Len spluttered the words, same time tomorrow.
This time Kay did turn his attention directly to Len.
His expression flitted quickly from confusion to delight.
Of course.
See you tomorrow, Len.
The potion maker returned into the cozy familiarity of his home.
Len spent the rest of the day in a shocked stupor.
He barely noticed the careless stings he acquired as he tended to his beehives.
He overheated and shattered a glass bottle as he brewed a potion.
His upper body workout took twice as long, his focus drifting as it pleased.
Even by the time Len was going to sleep, the same question buzzed loudly in his mind.
Same time tomorrow.
Why did I say that?
Happy Tuesday.
Kay greeted Len, extending a hand and pulling the potion maker onto the seat beside him
on the cart.
Len's shoulder muscles complained, and he winced as he accepted Kay's hand, but followed
up quickly with, pull-ups yesterday.
Kay chuckled as he coaxed the cow and the cart into motion.
I'm impressed.
My day job involves so much manual labor, but if it didn't, I don't think I'd have
the discipline for regular exercise.
Len's brain refused to accept the compliment.
Well, it's not discipline.
I think folks like Madame Plum expect me to be a wiry old eccentric, devoid of muscle
mass, living in a hut making a living off snake oil.
I can't make all those potions and cures and tinctures and maintain the house and gardens
if I don't keep myself healthy.
Not to mention the soaps, Kay added.
Right, well, those are a whole other—wait.
Len suddenly made the connection between Kay and the familiar lavender scent that accompanied
him.
I can't believe I didn't realize it until I met you the other day.
You said the milk from Dandelion Farm is an important part of your week.
I buy your lavender milk soap at Red Holly General.
It's the best.
So it turns out you're a big part of my week, too, Kay beamed, keeping his eyes on the road
ahead.
Len felt a dry laugh bubbling up from his chest, but it was interrupted by a cheery voice
calling, Kay, there you are!
A beautiful young woman with long braided hair waved as the cart slowed to a halt.
Morning, June.
Kay stepped down off the cart and pulled two heavy boxes off the back.
Len was surprised at his own annoyance when June whistled and patted Kay's bicep as he
carried the boxes to the side door of the birch forest in.
I told Violet you could do it, but she didn't believe me.
Now it's a bet, Violet.
Get out here!
I could do what?
Hey, Len, could you bring over that box with the yogurt in it?
Kay called back to the potion maker.
Len found himself complying with the request before he thought to question it.
The door of the birch forest in opened and a second, equally beautiful woman wandered
her way over to June and Kay.
Len watched them without listening as he carried the box over.
The three of them chattered effortlessly, making jokes which Kay laughed at with a natural
ease.
The two women hung on Kay's every word, and the internal pangs of annoyance continued
as Len kept out of their way and set the box down.
Don't interrupt the fun with your awkwardness, Len.
But just as his thoughts became barbed, they were halted by a sudden declaration from Kay.
Well, I certainly could lift you both at the same time, but wouldn't you rather see me
lift a big guy like Len over there?
Before the words could properly register, Len found himself swept from the ground by
a pair of strong arms and held over Kay's head.
He stared down to the delighted faces of Violet in June.
The woman applauded.
You're right, Kay.
Very impressive, said Violet.
Same, it's only Tuesday, but this is the best thing I will see all week.
Lucky you, Len, added June.
The dry laugh that had threatened to escape from Len earlier spilled into the air with
a surprising ease.
His stomach felt twisted into a knot, yet Len found it impossible to contain his laughter,
especially when he found it mingling with everyone else's.
Later, as the cart pulled up in front of Len's house, Kay paused a moment.
Sorry if, uh, picking you up like that was kind of sudden.
Those two are always flirting with me, and I don't want to be unfriendly, but I sort
of panicked in the moment.
I never quite know what to say to them, and he rambled an apology.
Len patted Kay on the shoulder.
No, no, it was funny.
I haven't laughed like that in ages.
It, uh, gave my spirit a much-needed lift.
Kay's ears turned pink.
Oh, that joke was terrible.
Will you bring a better one tomorrow?
Of course I will, Len stated proudly, oblivious of his own self-burn as he hopped off the
cart and returned to his house.
Hours later, Len finished preparing all of the weekly orders and organized everything
neatly for pick-up at the end of the week.
As he moved from this task to his lower body workout, the thought finally dawned on him.
Wait, did I agree to go again tomorrow?
When Kay pulled Len into the cart on Wednesday morning, the potion maker sensed that something
was amiss.
Something about the way Kay smiled seemed distant in a way that Len could not exactly
place.
Might rain today.
Len attempted a bit of expert small talk.
Oh, I hope not.
I forgot to bring the canopy, of course.
Friday should be clear, though.
The view from Starry Hill will be nice, Len offered.
Mmm.
Kay responded listlessly.
The smile hadn't left Kay's face, but Len felt an unease settle over the cart as it
rumbled towards Red Holly General's store.
A thin gentleman, who Len recognized as Mr. Carmine, approached the cart with an outstretched
hand.
Kay was already prepared, and handed him a sheet of paper before hopping out of the
cart.
The exchange was wordless, which took Len by surprise.
Hopefully, everything on this page matches what's in the delivery.
Hmm.
Wouldn't want a repeat of last week, would we, big guy?
Carmine remarked coolly without looking up from the paper.
Right, Mr. Carmine.
Sorry we were short on butter.
We added extra this week at no charge.
Kay offered as he carried two large crates past Carmine and into the Red Holly General.
Carmine shook his head inside.
Right, because having extra product that won't sell this week completely makes up for a shortage
last week.
You know what I mean, Aylen.
Being a potion maker, you must be pretty organized, and...
But Len's focus was far from the monotony of Carmine's words.
He watched Kay through the open door of the Red Holly.
He saw two young men and recognized them as Carmine's sons.
They approached Kay as he set the crates down.
They were all too far away to be heard, but hard laughter sliced the air as it drifted
its way to Len's ear.
Kay's expression suddenly flitted from neutral to a flash of visible anger before a practiced
smile took its place.
The smile looked heavier than the crates as Kay carried it back to the cart.
Just common sense, right?
Len finished his thought as Kay climbed back into the cart.
Well, some of us get brains, and some of us get muscles.
Thanks for the delivery, Kay.
Let's just hope you got your counting right today.
Mr. Carmine sighed as he walked away.
The silence on the way back to Len's place broke with the first raindrops.
I'm not as stupid as people think, Kay muttered.
Len scrambled for a response, but Kay continued.
I have a job that's simple and straightforward.
I don't fight when I can avoid it.
I smile when I make deliveries because that's my job.
When folks decide that you're cheery because you're stupid, that's how they treat you.
It's too much effort to try and change their opinions.
Len found himself repeating words that Kay had offered earlier in the week, but they
didn't seem to bring Kay much comfort.
After Len's dismay, the sky decided to underscore his failure with an intense downpour.
Well, at least it's raining.
The words fell out of Len's mouth before he could catch them.
Kay's laughter cracked like thunder as he stopped the cart outside Len's house.
Oh, shit, I didn't mean Len panicked before he was pulled into a tight hug.
Suddenly, Len's only fear was that the rain would stop.
I actually really love the rain, Len.
Kay's voice was muffled by Len's shoulder.
One waited outside, Len offered.
Kay pulled back.
I really want to.
I've got so many more deliveries today, though.
Twenty seconds passed.
Hours passed.
Len couldn't tell which was true as his thoughts desperately tried to settle on an
action.
Instead of thinking about it, Len's hand found its way to the side of Kay's face,
and he said,
Okay, same time tomorrow.
And Len kissed him.
Without another word, the potion maker hopped off the cart and strode back into his house
to spend the rest of the day alternating between finishing potions and mentally unspooling
over his own sudden impulsiveness.
First day arrived without rain, or Kay.
It was just like every other Thursday had been for longer than Len could remember.
He harvested herbs from the garden, he tended to the bees, taking note that the honey would
be ready to collect the following week.
He spent a solid thirty minutes on bicep curls and tricep extensions.
The rhythm of the day followed its usual thrum.
However, when Len was picking lavender, he couldn't help thinking about the rough texture
of Kay's hand.
Thinking on the bees took just long enough for Len to fret over every aspect of Wednesday.
Len caught a chill in the evening because he forgot to shower after his arm's workout.
He had been too busy treading water in the sea of self-doubt.
When Friday morning arrived, Len heard a knock at his front door and abandoned his morning
coffee to answer it.
Leniford, you're supposed to leave your products outside.
That was your request, remember?
Madame Plum groused from the doorstep.
Ah, yes, one moment, Madame.
Len sighed before disappearing back inside to retrieve the weekly order.
All the goods were packaged together in a couple of boxes, which Len carried to Madame
Plum's cart.
It was driven by an incredibly bored-looking mule.
While you didn't need to carry it, I could have managed.
Kay's nice manners must be a good influence on your sour attitude.
It's a shame that you've been a terrible influence on that one.
She sniped as she climbed into her cart.
What the hell are you even talking about, Madame?
Len was far too confused to even feign politeness.
Like an expert angler, Madame Plum reeled in Len's attention.
What, you didn't know?
Kay delivers goods from Daniline Farm to the whole town.
How off-schedule do you think he was because a certain potion maker was insisting on having
private caradrides all week?
I heard he was nearly fired yesterday.
I mean, he's a really nice guy and all, but how did he not understand that all that backtracking
every day was going to catch up with him?
I mean, what kind of potion maker had already gone back inside?
Len spent the day cooking.
He put his jumbled feelings to work in the kitchen, and left the house with his day's
work packed in a basket.
The sun meandered near the horizon as Len walked past Madame Plum's house, the birch
forest inn, and the Red Holly General Store in fairly quick succession.
He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed how close these places were to each other.
At the base of Starry Hill, a cart was being guarded by a shaggy cow who gave a familial
snort as Len walked past and gave him a scritch behind the ear.
Len climbed Starry Hill as the sun abandoned it, and the first stars arrived in a rose-dusted
sky.
Len was sitting with his back against a sturdy oak, watching the last fading embers of the
day.
Len sat down next to him with the basket, and felt an arm wrap itself, warm and comforting,
across his back.
How much trouble exactly Len started?
Not none.
I mean, I was gonna get noticed eventually, but it's really not a big deal.
Huh.
Good.
Sorry, Len.
I at least should've, I mean, K-Rambled.
Len turned and whispered in K's ear,
Hey, can you keep a secret?
Yeah?
K responded with a whisper.
I think.
Just maybe.
We might be idiots.
It was a clear night on Starry Hill, but still there was a sound like a thunder clap, as K
erupted into laughter that sent tears spilling from his eyes.
The salt from them lingered in his kiss.
You know, I do have tomorrow off, K mentioned.
The meal that Len had brought tasted particularly good on a moonlit night on Starry Hill, but
both agreed that the coffee they shared on Saturday morning was even better.
Not yet.
Not just yet, but soon, soon.
Keep listening.
Hello.
Well, was that story everything you hoped?
You know, this tower is extremely precious.
A tower that collects and houses stories with an infinite storage capacity.
Like rainy days, I think it's easy to forget about just how precious a thing this tower
is.
Oh, but I'm just rambling now.
Taking care of this place is, after all, my responsibility.
I suppose you'll be back, but for now, be well and carry today's story in your heart.
Today's tale has ended, but return once again to this place where you are considered a friend.
Return to this tower and its mysterious dweller.
For more from the Librarium, The Second Storyteller.
Thank you for listening to The Second Storyteller.
If you have a prompt for a story, please send it to thesecondstoryteller at gmail.com.
If your prompt is selected, your name will be credited at the end of the episode.
Today's prompt was A Little Love Story, submitted by Tony Chacon.
If you would like to help support the future of this podcast, please consider becoming
a patron by going to patreon.com.
A donation as small as a dollar is greatly appreciated and helps keep us going.
A donation of just $10 a month puts you on the list of current library card holders,
and your name will be read at the end of the episode.
The Second Storyteller podcast and the featured stories were written and created by Katie
Chacon.
The role of the Second Storyteller is played by Charles Scott.
The role of the first Storyteller is played by Katie Chacon.
Today's voice of the story was provided by Katie Chacon.
The voice of the intro and outro is Chris Camp, and you can find the fantastic games he's
worked on at rix.itch.io.
The music was written by Fintan, who can be found at garbagebag.itch.io.
The Second Storyteller will return next month with more magic, fun, and of course, a story
to tell.