In The Town Where All Things Are Possible
By Charles Martin and Will Weinke
3/5
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About this ebook
In The Town Where All Things Are Possible, the hopes of an unusual sea-side community rest on the weary shoulders of a love-sick widower. Originally published as a serial on literatipressok.com, this is the complete story of a town of eccentrics hiding an ancient magic which they believe can make any dream come true, provided the wish isn't too big for such a small place. A beautiful woman arrives and the tortured widower finds love again, but The Town is not ready to let go of its lonely manager.
Charles Martin
Charles Martin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. He and his wife, Christy, live in Jacksonville, Florida. Learn more at charlesmartinbooks.com; Instagram: @storiedcareer; Twitter: @storiedcareer; Facebook: @Author.Charles.Martin.
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In The Town Where All Things Are Possible - Charles Martin
In The Town Where All Things Are Possible
A Novella
By Charles Martin & Will Weinke
www.literatipressok.com
Published by Literati Press at Smashwords
Copyright 2014 Charles Martin.
Discover other titles by Charles Martin & Will Weinke at Smashwords.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The Town Where All Things Are Possible
original Copyright © 2014 by Charles Martin. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Literati Press 820 W. Danforth Rd. #A-19 Edmond, OK 73003.
PART 1
In the Town Where All Things Are Possible, there lived a simple man with a simple trade that, improbably, held this magical world together.
The town nestled itself between modest, twin mountains with their backs to the ocean, a cliff dropping a hundred feet to the waves which lapped at the rocks like a forlorn lover attempting to scale up to an illuminated window. The mountains protected the town with a brotherly affection, only allowing the gentlest of weather to pass between their sturdy shoulders to touch the quiet community. It was generally agreed among those whose work and family brought them to the town that the people were quite pretty. Perhaps there weren’t many devastating beauties like the images of Hollywood starlets that filtered in, but the men were handsome and the women were lovely and even those that lacked traditional beauty still possessed a charm that was quite fetching.
Because all humans yearn to be admirable musicians, every citizen of The Town Where All Things Are Possible sang beautifully in their own ways, many playing instruments with quiet grace. Those that preferred to play loud were welcome to play loud, but at a time and place that was appropriate. And the same was true for so many things, for painters and magicians and athletes and dancers. Poets and actors and bakers and even politicians found their chosen talents to be accessible within reason. One could be good at anything and be happy, but when one chose to be great, that is when sadness followed.
Those were the ones who fled, seeking out a grander scale. Though all things were indeed possible in the Town Where All Things Are Possible, the town itself could not grow large enough to attract multi-billion dollar corporations or financing titans, nor could it produce the materials to construct towering sculptures or field the vast armies needed to engage in heroic wars that made men into legends.
In the Town Where All Things Are Possible, the only thing anyone ever asked was to not be selfish. That is why the great men and women left, for one cannot achieve greatness without the suffering of others.
Perhaps we should just rename it to ‘The Town Where All Small Things Are Possible’,
the mayor suggested regretfully after her son announced his intentions to attend university far, far away. Her husband insisted the town’s name was already long and clunky enough, so the mayor dropped her sad idea and turned her focus to the things she could change.
The smaller things.
And so the town endured, the envious waves grasping up the stone face of the cliffs, the winters and summers shuffling in and out without a fuss, the townspeople achieving admirability in their own unique ways. The Man Who Held The Town Together toiled every day, spurning vacations, weekdays, and even the most sacred holidays, for he believed his job too important to abandon, if even for just an afternoon. Since accepting his position at the age of 18, he’d taken two leaves of absence:
1. A vicious flu put the man down for a weekend,
a. A family of five died in a house fire on Day One,
b. The librarian found her husband in bed with his seventeen-year-old student on Day Two,
2. The Man Who Held The Town Together slept in on the morning after his wedding,
a. His new bride was accosted after slipping away to the store for a dozen eggs,
b. She died alone and the killer was never caught.
He vowed to reach his office every day, no matter the cost, and accomplish his small task. No one else in town perceived his job as critical, nor did he ever tell them why he worked so doggedly. They observed him and his sorrow, and allowed him to create a life that could sustain him. All things were possible, after all, and how he dealt with his loss was no one’s business but his own.
The Man Who Held The Town Together was not a hermit though. He forced himself out into the world out of a sense of duty to the town he adored. In what little free time afforded to him, the man fashioned himself into an excellent dart thrower, though he secretly believed it to be a silly pastime. He also attempted writing, but there was a bitterness trapped within his heart that made the endeavor impossible without producing something hurtful to those around him, so he abandoned the pursuit and doubled his efforts on the tavern’s well-worn dartboard.
He was town champion four years in a row.
He remained alone.
Love is a perfect and necessary thing in the Town Where All Things Are Possible,
the man’s mother implored after insisting herself into his office one day. You see, it is the only great thing that we have because, no matter how grand love may be, it is still restrained within the hearts of only two people. You must find love, my boy, it is your duty!
But the Man That Held The Town Together did not believe it, knowing that love was too big a thing and, being great, it would eventually hurt everything it touched. As it hurt him.
He remained alone.
One temperate spring day, a delicate wind caressed the valley and whispered its way into the town, bringing with it a tired, withering commuter bus half-full with visiting family, day-workers, and the newest owner of The Wider World Books and Novelties Shop. It came to The Outsider through inheritance.
Her name was Alexandria. Though she had never even heard of the Town Where All Things Are Possible, The Outsider always believed such a place must exist and one day fate would lead her there.
PART 2
In The Town Where All Things Are Possible, there existed a subtle slant to the land, sloping on all sides to form a funnel directing the town’s excess rainwater toward a single storm sewer grate in front of the courthouse, the first building erected on the land 150 years ago.
Children made a game of watching marbles chart out a complex odyssey from the cliff edge, through the streets and walkways, across the market, bounding down stone steps and finally clinking through the ancient, cast iron grate. The marbles bounced against the stone walls on their descent, sending up musical echoes as they seemed to fall all the way to the center of the world.
God’s Blowhole,
the widowed librarian told Alexandria as they both watched boys lying beside the storm sewer, waiting for the next herd of marbles rushing toward the grate like an enthusiastic suicide cult.
Alexandria slid her long, gently curled red hair behind her ears and glanced over the boys, down into the dark mystery of the town’s square. She listened for the marbles pinging against the pipe, waiting for them to hit a bottom. They never did, merely disappearing into a bottomless void.
Horrid clanking startled Alexandria. The entire group turned and dodged out of the way as a metal cart clattered down stone steps toward the town’s center. The Man Who Held The Town Together scrambled after the cart like a panicked father chasing a wayward child.
Upon reaching the last step, the cart tumbled forward, boxes falling from the cart and gasping out hundreds of yellow notecards.
The children giggled while Alexandria abandoned her luggage and helped The Man Who Held The Town Together collect the debris spread out across the town square. The man was manic with the fear of losing even a single notecard to the wind.
Upon stuffing the last card into the box, tipping the cart right side up, and reloading its burden, the man apologized profusely, his handsome, kind face brightening a warm red, but his eyes never lifting to her face. He attempted to comb his mussed, black hair with his fingers,