It came as a complete shock when you were told that you weren’t going to be in the Bahamas for christmas. If you couldn’t get a good tan and feel the sand in between your toes then what were you doing? Well, because you were a city person, born and raised, and expected everything at your fingertips, you’re parents decided to arrange something much different than what you had planned.

Upon arriving in the new unknown town, you stared at the very empty pastures that went by as the car picked up speed. You stared at your nails then back up at the empty pastures still. So tempted to say something, you exhaled and spoke to your driver, mainly hired by your parents of course. “So where am I going?” You said immediately. The man looked at you in the mirror above him and went back to focusing on the road. Okay, so he was rude and quiet. You rolled your eyes and leaned back.

500 more miles and you finally arrived at a huge farmhouse. There were cows, horses, sheep and goats in the open field that probably spread about 500 acres—maybe more if counted correctly. You stepped out and walked towards the gate, kicking it open gently with your foot as your sandals clicked and clacked against the dirt. Your driver followed behind you as if to introduce you to your new temporary family. After five minutes, a man and a women, old in age, came out of a white house next to the farmhouse. They seemed very nice, but you still kept guard.

“Oh, you must be our guest! We’re the Kent’s and we hope you have a lovely time with us.” The women said, taking her wrinkled hand in yours with a smile. “We’ll get our son to get your bags for you, yes?” The women said again. As she said that, a man probably around your age came out of the farmhouse, hauling bails of hay in his arms. He was big, way too big to be a teenager, too fine to be this elderly couples son, and he looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted. His muscles rippled under the intense farm sun, and the sweat seemed to be make him hotter!