Folksburywoods Story Blog

“Welcome, I see you have gotten lost on the highway. Please come in and have a rest before you continue,” said the dark stranger.

I decided to walk the outer road to the summit. The locals advised against it. They assured me it was not safe but gave no other explanation.

“I will have my servant bring you some cool water to quench your thirst,” offered the man.

The night had a fabulous moon. I chose to ignore the warning and struck out on my walk.

“Please have a seat in the garden so we can chat. I am Count Vardi, and this place has been in my family for seven generations,” said the Count.

Soon, I found myself lost and off the main path. Doing the only sensible thing, I attempted to retrace my steps back to the village.

“American, you say, I hear things are not going well there with the war between the states,” remarked my host.

After pursuing what I thought was the main path, I found myself standing before a large iron gate. I called out to see if anyone was there, and the Count appeared before me.

“Thank you for the compliment, I’m much older than I look. So you say you are traveling alone, correct?” asked the Count.

I explained that I was on my way to meet a friend in Zürich in three days. “I’m alone for now,” I told the man.

“I must insist you spend the night,” said my host. “The forest has many foul beasts and robbers who would cause you harm.”

Reflecting on how I ended up there. I agreed and was shown to a room within the building where I could rest until morning.

“Please don’t hesitate to ask for anything. My servants are never far away. Here is a decanter of Brandy and a glass. Have a drink; it will relax you and help you rest,” suggested the Count.

I unpacked my bag and poured a small amount of the Brandy into the glass. Its aroma was enticing. As I drank it, I could feel my stress melt away, and soon I drifted off to sleep.

“I am glad you rested well. Please come and enjoy a meal before you continue your travels,” said the Count.

I thanked my host for his generosity. I continued down the road to my rendezvous in Zürich. There, I met my friend and shared my delightful experience at the Count’s abode with him.

My companion noticed two marks on my neck and asked how I got them.

“I haven’t the faintest idea, perhaps it was from an insect bite as I slept,” I remarked.

The rest of my trip was uneventful. After arriving back in America, life continued as before. There is one small exception. I now have a strange craving for blood-rare steaks, odd considering I always ate them well done before.

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