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We stayed over at baby Landon’s, partly to help his parents get a little more sleep. As Chrissy Teigan, the famous philosopher, super model, lip syncing DJ, mother, and other half of Singer songwriter John Legend shouted into the abyss, “Why is it so hard to get someone who is already sleepy…asleep!” For some reason a plethora of philosophers all starting with P (Pythagoras, Plato, etc.) replied “BECAUSE!” May your sleep be satisfying this holiday week! #sleepingbaby #sleepdeprived #itsgettingbetterallthetime #happymonday #changeandgrow https://www.instagram.com/p/CmWbTj_LeDd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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26 Visibly shaken Hank asked, “Can’t we stop this?” “I don’t think so!” said the lawyer. “We’d have to prove Paula criminally acquired your land or somehow doesn’t have the subsurface rights to your land. Do you know if your parents, or even further back to previous land owners, ever sold their mineral rights?” “I don’t know,” said Hank. The sheer hopeless in Hank’s voice hurt Jenny’s heart. “Well we can’t just sit by and do nothing! Terry, how can we find out about those rights you mentioned?” asked Jenny. Terry looked thoughtful. “It’s unlikely, but you could look at the past deeds of sale over at the courthouse records office. Follow the sales of your land back as far as you can. See if the mineral rights were ever sold. They wouldn’t transfer with the sale of the land on the surface.” … At the courthouse Jenny and Hank began tracing the sale of his Emerson family farm through the years. The afternoon wore on until they were given a 20 minute warning the office would soon close for the day. “This is hopeless. Come on Jenny let’s just call it a day and leave. There’s nothing here. This is a pipe dream hiding inside a wish list. It’s hopeless,” said Hank. At that moment Jenny gasped, reached over and clutched Hank’s arm. “Oh my god! I…I think I might have something! Hank, does the name Harper mean anything to you?” … [My friends I’m sorry to leave the story hanging. Once again too many things got in the way, not the least being IG not allowing me to publish 3 times…(have you run into that something went wrong message?). I hope your Saturday and Sunday are good—Happy Father’s Day to all dads! #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #lawyersofinstagram #mineralrights https://www.instagram.com/tv/Ce5_FmFFOd5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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26 Visibly shaken Hank asked, “Can’t we stop this?” “I don’t think so!” said the lawyer. “We’d have to prove Paula criminally acquired your land or somehow doesn’t have the subsurface rights to your land. Do you know if your parents, or even further back to previous land owners, ever sold their mineral rights?” “I don’t know,” said Hank. The sheer hopeless in Hank’s voice hurt Jenny’s heart. “Well we can’t just sit by and do nothing! Terry, how can we find out about those rights you mentioned?” asked Jenny. Terry looked thoughtful. “It’s unlikely, but you could look at the past deeds of sale over at the courthouse records office. Follow the sales of your land back as far as you can. See if the mineral rights were ever sold. They wouldn’t transfer with the sale of the land on the surface.” … At the courthouse Jenny and Hank began tracing the sale of his Emerson family farm through the years. The afternoon wore on until they were given a 20 minute warning the office would soon close for the day. “This is hopeless. Come on Jenny let’s just call it a day and leave. There’s nothing here. This is a pipe dream hiding inside a wish list. It’s hopeless,” said Hank. At that moment Jenny gasped, reached over and clutched Hank’s arm. “Oh my god! I…I think I might have something! Hank, does the name Harper mean anything to you?” … [My friends I’m sorry to leave the story hanging. Once again too many things got in the way, not the least being IG not allowing me to publish 3 times…(have you run into that something went wrong message?). I hope your Saturday and Sunday are good—Happy Father’s Day to all dads! #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #lawyersofinstagram #mineralrights https://www.instagram.com/p/Ce5-qXaLXK8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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25 With Paula driving events things began to churn fast and word spread fast through Boon. On Monday the county zoning board met and with almost no discussion the board chairman announced that Boon needed more businesses like energy company Axon investing locally, providing jobs, and generating much needed tax revenue. A motion to allow drilling and all other subsurface mineral exploration on the old Emerson Farm (Hank’s former spread) passed without comment. On Tuesday Axon erected an eight foot fence and gate at the front end of Hank’s farm. Within days large trucks and machinery rolled through town on the way to the new drilling site. … Jenny urged Hank to talk to his lawyer again to see if there was at least one last ditch effort to get his farm back. And so they found themselves in Terry Jason‘s office the next day. “Well Hank I guess now we know why Paula wanted your farm and it has nothing to do with opening a golf course. Hank, I suspect your property is sitting on a prime area. She’s leasing the land to Axon. They’re a well known energy exploitation company, best known for the development of oil and gas. Recently they were a defendant in a suit involving fracking. That’s where they drill a well and detonate a charge down it to blast to open fractures or fissures. They literally create tiny earthquakes. Finally, a massive amount of water, millions of gallons, toxic chemicals, and sand under pressure are blasted down the well to crush through even more rock and release residual oil and gas. The waste water eventually spills back up followed by natural gas and oil. That huge cocktail of spill water can create a major health problem and even harm the natural ground water resources. One case against Axon showed they ruined the drinking water across a town. Dangerous stuff might come out when someone tries to get a drink of water from their tap. Hank, your farm apparently sits on a mountain of shale harboring gas and oil. Of course, I hate to think what could happen to Boon. Despite all of this, the zoning board under Paula’s influence green lighted the drilling. Visibly shaken Hank asked, “Can’t we stop this?” https://www.instagram.com/p/Ce3ZsH8rA7E/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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23 Thursday “It’s a shame isn’t it? Really an end to an era. Emersons built that farm and everything there a good half century ago. If you ask me something smells bad about all this. Next thing you know Paula will come after our place, too!” The voice came from behind her. Riveted by the terrible finality of the destruction of the small buildings Jenny couldn’t pull her eyes away. Without turning Jenny said, “Hello, Mrs. Thatcher. Yes, it doesn’t seem fair. They certainly aren’t wasting any time.” They both watched for a few moments in silence then Jenny retrieved her delivery from the truck. Taking the soft package, Mrs. Thatcher said, “Thank you, dear. By any chance do you know how I can contact Hank? I have something of his, and just wondered what he wants me to do with it. It’s light and not very big.” “Well actually I’m seeing him tonight. Would you like me to give it to him?” asked Jenny. “That would be great. Let me get it. Just be a moment.” Mrs. Harrison returned a few minutes later and handed Jenny a box that felt empty. #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #taxliens #demolition #delivery #farmcountry https://www.instagram.com/p/CeDyQmhuh5d/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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20b Tuesday (Daily) Hank opened the door and the deputy handed him the papers. Someone yelled, “We’re with you, Hank!” and in an instant the crowd ignited. Shouts of support mixed with choice words for the officers rang out. Hank held his hands up for quiet. “Folks, my parents worked their whole lives to make this farm what it is today, but somehow it’s come to this. Webb and Barney are just doing their job, don’t blame them. I appreciate all of you, but this is it…it’s over.” With a resigned look on his face, a face looking 20 years older than his 35 years, he handed his keys to Deputy Webb. The group began chanting, “Hank, Hank, Hank!” Glancing through the door, the lawyer saw that nothing inside looked ready for a move. “Mr. Emerson numerous notices were sent advising you to pack up and leave these premises. Deputies remove everything! Just throw it out into the yard. Now!” Looking hard at the pushy lawyer for almost a full minute, but then up at the beautiful blue sky the second deputy responded, “Deputy Webb, did you notice that the rain is picking up? It’s looking pretty muddy out here!” “Deputy Fifer, you’re right! It’d be a shame to throw out a man’s possessions while he’s also losing his farm. Everything is bound to get ruined. You know we have a certain amount of discretion in these situations. I think we can wait for the rain to stop, don’t you?” #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #taxliens #lawyersofinstagram #eviction #evictionnotice #throwitout https://www.instagram.com/p/CdYA_hMLW1x/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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20a The police, accompanied by Paula Masson’s lawyer threaded their way through the crowd and up on the porch to Hank’s front door. Though the crowd of about 100 said nothing the three men felt the full hostility of their eerie silence. Sitting in his living room in what had been his father’s chair, Hank looked around at the memories of his life: an oil painting of the old barn his mother painted and hung with pride, a basketball trophy above the mantel he received as MVP in the high school state championship—his dad insisted it stay there and never missed a chance to brag on his son even years later. The family picture wall showed photos of so many significant events. Smiling young parents proudly standing hand-in-hand in front of this very house my father and grandfather together built, our first well, raising the barn walls, proms, graduations, weddings, births, all those moments that declare “We Are Family And This Is Our Home!” Hank put his head in his hands, “After all these years and I lost it all. I’m sorry Dad…” Aware of the people outside and waiting for fate’s knock on the door Hank helplessly waited. The knock finally came and one of the officers announced, “Hank, this is Deputy Friday. We have a notice of eviction. Open up and come out. Hank glanced at his gun cabinet against the wall. #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #taxliens #lawyersofinstagram #eviction #evictionnotice https://www.instagram.com/p/CdVci5OLm11/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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On this day, Addie the Talking Dog gazed longingly at England from our American shoreline. Sure you may quibble that Labrador Retrievers, originally called St. John’s Water Dogs hearken from Newfoundland, Canada, but the Brits were quite smitten with them. A brisk trade of the dogs struck up: Canadian fisherman proud of their great dogs brought them along on their trans-Atlantic voyages. Maybe she has a genetic memory from those days of yore. Personally, I suspect Addie was trying to use telepathy to order a Guinness—across the ocean. https://www.instagram.com/tv/CdGBJdZlCE1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Hello May! To see this new month of possibilities in we took off to see a different type of landscape. I love our mountains, but seeing the flatlands of the coastal wetlands is always a beautiful change up! I hope: 1 to show some pics, 2 rescue poor Hank, 3 tis a good week for you! https://www.instagram.com/p/CdDbV3krSsd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Thank you Kate at @diagon_farm for providing the cool goat-riding-a-horse video. I used it twice in this post so those not really into the story would still get to enjoy it—very cool daughter! I’m not how much access I’ll have over the next day or so I hope this is a good weekend for you! #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #taxliens #lawyersofinstagram #eviction #onthefarm #poorhank #babygoats #kidgoats #goatsofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/Cc5GvCjLa7w/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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A good Monday to you and an even better rest of the week! Welcome back to our Hallmark-type saga. I received enough feedback suggesting I include the audio. Feel free to turn the sound off if this distracts from your reading. BTW, if you doubt the premise at the end of this section check out the YouTube link in my profile—it’s kind of cool! Note: the slide showing a close up of a squirrel is taken from Wikipedia’s public domain Commons. #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #thief #audiostory https://www.instagram.com/p/CcxZ6q6r2Ua/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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17 Thursday (Daily) Jenny drove to the house to investigate some packages reported missing. She couldn’t help worrying about Hank. Over coffee the day after they had dinner he told her he might lose his farm and everything he owned. Hank explained, “I’ve got a call through to my accountant for a copy of my tax return. I know I signed and mailed the forms he sent me, but can’t figure out why the County didn’t get them. Also, where all those so called notices and phone calls from the Assessor’s Office went—I got one letter from Paula’s legal hounds…after it was too late! How did this happen?” “Hank, I think that’s the crux of the problem: HOW this all happened. Sounds like you’re on the trail of that.” Then putting her hand over his, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “I feel so bad because when all this was going on, I caused you nothing but trouble, no matter how unintentional. It couldn’t have helped and maybe even distracted you. I’m so sorry Hank.” He met her gaze and put his other hand over hers. Both smiled, feeling total acceptance and caring, something at that this down and out moment Hank really needed. On impulse, Jenny leaned over and kissed him. *** Up ahead Jenny pulled into the Cramdon’s driveway. #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #taxliens #lawyersofinstagram #firstkiss https://www.instagram.com/p/CcnGY8GrpsK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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16 Wednesday (Daily) Hank drove over to Boon to see his lawyer Terry Jason the next afternoon. Nestled near the Blue Ridge Mountains, Hank always marveled at the little hamlet’s old time beauty. Earlier in the day Terry made some calls on Hank’s behalf. His findings didn’t look good. “Hank, I checked with the County Tax Assessor and my suspicion about your tax payments is correct. They say you missed your last payment and didn’t answer telephone or mail follow ups. Eventually they put a tax lien on you and then auctioned the lien off. [A lien simply means property is held until a debt is paid.] Interestingly enough Paula’s company was the sole bidder. Apparently there’s a rumor of an lien on your farm by the IRS as well; that kept other bidders away. I checked; there isn’t a federal lien. Why did you miss filing your taxes, Hank?” “I swear I sent the payment in, and I did not receive any notices!” “Hank, tonight make copies of your paperwork, cancelled checks, bank statements, etc. We need proof and fast. I may be able to buy a little time on your eviction from your house. We’ll claim you’re a squatter, or try to negotiate with Paula.” “Paula wants to take the farm and expand her golf course! Terry, this farm has been in our family for 50 years, but I’ll sell it myself before letting Paula get it!” said Hank. “Ah Hank I hate to add to the bad news, but she has a legal claim against the farm. You can’t sell it, refinance, or even take a loan against it as long as that lien isn’t cleared.” Hank’s shoulders fell. “I’m screwed no matter what I do!” he thought. “Don’t give up yet, Hank. I’ve known you a long time and not paying bills or responding to formal notices is not like you. Maybe the County Assessor goofed up. We’ll figure out how this happened. The golf course expansion gives me an idea.” ——— Across town, Jenny got a call to look into some missing packages. She knew “porch stealing” was a national problem, but out here in Boon it was unknown. #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #taxliens #lawyersofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/Cckgokhr-NO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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15 Tuesday (Daily) Weeks earlier. In the corporate world some execs consider an extra phone, one that’s hard to trace, and easily discarded “de rigueur,” as the French say—necessary tools of the trade. Pulling such a burner phone from a desk drawer, Mz. Masson, in her role as president of the law firm Wolfs, Atdore & Snaik, LLC, dialed an associate. With lowered voice she asked, “Tell me we won the bid.” A gradient of a smile appeared on her face. “I think the golf club will be expanding soon.” Paula found owning her own law firm streamlined business. Never mind the old adage about representing yourself means having a fool for a client. She used lawyers to intimidate and wielded them like a weapon. ——— When Hank finished his 20 minute set at The Tap House, he went outside. Finding privacy in a recessed doorway down the block, Hank called his lawyer Terry Jason. “Terry, Paula sent her lawyers after me! I got a debt collection letter saying I owe them $10,000. I paid my folks mortgage down—I flat out own it! How can I owe HER money?” Hank read the letter to him. “Hank, where are you with paying your taxes? The County, State, or even the IRS can put a tax lien on your property and then sell it to an investor. Sounds like this is your situation with Paula. She can make you pay her the debt and even add interest and penalties! If you don’t pay, Paula can foreclose and do anything she wants.” “How did this happen? Terry…what am I going to do? Can’t we fight this? It’s my home.” https://www.instagram.com/p/Cch8jbQruRv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Good Monday friends! Before continuing I need to introduce another character. All Hallmark movies have a villain. Here’s just a little you should know about our bad guy (just feel that tension rise, lol!). ******** Paula Masson was a big fish in a small pond—no, strike that. She was a big fish in a bowl, and she liked it that way. She was the largest land owner in the county, and had gobbled up roughly a hundred promising businesses over the years. After subsuming each business Paula’s name would be installed at the top of its organization chart, her lieutenants positioned, and the Masson-way would become its business plan. A large oil portrait of Paula and her name in large gold letters completed the branding of the new company into her empire. Though the biggest employer in the county love from the town folk wasn’t on the menu, but a fearful respect was a given. And if not she’d take it as respect after she ran over you. The Boon county commissioners and zoning board had little choice but to follow her mandates. Hank knew Paula: everyone in Boon knew everyone in Boon. After Paula bought the farm adjoining Hank’s, she had acres and acres of beautiful shimmering wheat plowed up. Within months grapevines and a winery replaced it all and the Hock Bottle Winery & Golfing greeted the world. Not long after, Paula began a campaign to buy Hank’s farm. *** Before his next song, Hank made up his mind; he needed a lawyer…and fast! #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance https://www.instagram.com/p/CcfYVSJLmJv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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12 Thursday (Daily) Jenny hurried through the backstage door and found Hank sitting on a metal folding chair in the hallway tuning his guitar. Instantly he smiled when he saw her, but it faded when he saw Jenny’s worried look. “What’s the matter, Jenny?” Handing him the paper, “I found this on the floor. It looks pretty serious, Hank. Is everything okay?” Looking at the paper Hank saw his lyric and chord sheet for a song. “No, turn it over, it’s the other side,” said Jenny. Hank saw the tax sale notice and the rest of the letter. “Oh that. It’s just a bad joke from my so-called neighbor Paula. Her winery adjoins our farm. She’s been after our land to expand her golf course; it’s only a nine hole green. I told her to forget it. Any way, we paid off the farm years ago, and besides look at the date—April Fools Day. At that moment, they heard the MC for the open mic call out “Hank Emerson to the stage.” Putting his guitar strap over his head, he said, “Don’t worry Jenny, it’s all fine! I’ve got to go, but would you like to get a coffee tomorrow?” Jenny nodded yes and Hank disappeared behind the stage curtains to perform. https://www.instagram.com/p/CcDCn-IrAOR/?utm_medium=tumblr
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11 Wednesday (Daily) Over dinner Jenny told him about packing up everything she had and moving to Boon, new job, new town, new everything. Hank explained he tried city life, but missed sunrises over the mountain, the rumble of a tractor, and odd as it sounds the manuring of fields—a permeating odor that wafted over the farm. Only someone who grew up on a farm would understand. It turned out they shared many interests: Americana music, old movies, old books, and antique shops. They shared a laugh when they realized how nostalgic their tastes seemed. An awkward moment came when deep in conversation and not paying attention both reached for the same crab leg. Instead Jenny grabbed Hank’s hand. Being the first time they touched, her soft hand on his callused farm hand surprised both of them with an invisible spark. She quickly pulled back. With a wink, Hank put the crustacean claw on Jenny’s plate. Hank noticed a touch of a blush. They shared a similar wry sense of humor. It occurred to Jenny she hadn’t laughed this much in a long time. He wasn’t a bad guy after all. The tavern began filling up and people stopped by their table greeting both of them. Hank remembered he had to get ready for the competition. He thanked Jenny for the dinner and lovely company, and hurried off to the stage. After he left, Jenny got up to move closer to the stage. She noticed one Hank’s music sheets on the floor in the corner. Picking it up she saw handwritten chords and lyrics for “The Telling Takes Me Home,” an old song her Dad used to sing to her at night. The other side had a big red stamp over a letter saying “Tax Sale” and the address was Hank’s farm. #shortstory #shortstorywriter #writer #hallmark #storywriting #fiction #writersofinstagram #prose #changeandgrow #newromance #antiquesofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CcAhlk-LSaV/?utm_medium=tumblr
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