The Leaves of Time

12 months ago

Butch Leads was careful where he placed the nail, so many craftsmen were sloppy with their work. Not Butch. He was careful to a fault.

"Pa," His son, Jerry, stood idle watching him. "Billy says that you work too slow."

"Yeah, well, Billy's never worked a day in his life so what does he know?"

Butch started hitting the nail at a slight angle. This spot where the tree hits the bench was a bit tricky, well, not for Butch it wasn't.

"But. You've been working on this gazebo for so long." Jerry was pestering his father due to curiosity rather than petulance.

"Son. If you expect things to last, you have to put love into them." He blew at the nail. "And this gazebo will last generations."

Said gazebo was built on Butch's property, the property he fought his entire life to keep. So far, it seemed like he succeeded. The Mullers were unrelenting, however. And the pasture that this land provided would only motivate them to try harder.

But for now, Butch Leads enjoyed spending any free time he could with his family around the gazebo. They laughed, they sang, they danced. Life happened, and they were lucky enough to live it.

"Granpa sure loved this thing, didn't he Pa?"

"He sure did." Jerry Leads put his hand on his son's shoulder, it was trembling. "He built it with his own two hands, son. He was so dedicated to it. I - I'm gonna miss it."

"Pa... it's just a gazebo."

Jerry didn't respond, only stood looking at his father's craftsmanship one last time. You see, Jerry was selling the property to Stefan Muller. The Leads had fallen on hard times, and drastic measures had to be taken. Jerry Leads hated everything about the situation. But fate forced his hand. Fate, and bad decisions.

It wasn't long before the Mullers moved in.

"So I'm thinking we take down that south wall and expand that side of the house."

"Father?" Tarik Muller pointed. "What about that gazebo?"

John Muller put his hands on his hips. "I planned on this area being an apple orchard."

"It's pretty well made, father." Tarik mused.

"That it is..." John pierced his lips. "But my father said Butch had never crafted anything worth his sot. As good as it might look, this thing will crumble one night while we're eating dinner! Ha! Tear it down!"

And so the Muller sons took axe and saw and started dismantling the once beloved gazebo. Taking apart the table and benches, crushing the roof with hammers, and chopping down the tree that held it together.

Soon enough only a couple of stumps remained.

And on one chilly night many years later, haggard Tarik sat down on the stump that was once a glorious tree. His son, Barik, held a rifle as he exchanged worried glances with his father.

"They're coming soon," Barik said for the tenth time.

"They are..." Tarik agreed. "But we will be ready."

"Father, I have to ask again. Why aren't we running?"

"Son... your forefathers fought tough and nail to get this land. I remember being a child hearing them funding with those disgusting Leads. We are not just handing it over to the first armed goon that comes our way."

"Yes, Father."

Tarik and Barik Muller would not see another morning, as that night they were attacked from all sides by the Brady gang. Soon, the patch of land was held by outlaws and scoundrels.

The leader of said gang was one Timothy Dirty, who stood with his second in command in front of the titular stumps.

"You know Tim, this spot would be grand if we used it as sort of for relaxin', ya know?" The second in command said.

"I was thinkin' the same thing. Build a table on that there stump. I like the breeze this gets."

The Brady gang did not last long, but they lasted long enough to build a table and benches around the once-gazebo. But as with all runners from the law, they eventually lost step and got caught. Such was the fate of the Brady gang.

And as the years went on the once-stump started sprouting and growing again. The property lost its bad name associated with it being a former outlaw hideaway. And a young couple came in to survey its potential. They were looking to build a new house for their new life. Both wanting to get away from their overbearing parents.

"It's a wonderful spot, don't you think love?"

"Yes, it is." The young adult said. "I could see us living here. Rebuild this shack into a two-story house. Clear out those ruins over there and build a barn. Yeah, this could work."

"Love? This spot over here also. There's something about it..."

"The overgrown benches?"

"Yes, something about it..."

"You know what? You're right, love. This would make for a great gazebo."

This was A Picture is worth a Thousand Words contest entry.

The prompt image: