People had already gathered in front of the wooden stage at the foot of the hill. The crowd was anxious. The basket bid has been a part of the festival for only a few years and everyone was holding their breath waiting for it. In a small town like Goodharts, it was the perfect opportunity to find out who liked who. It was dedicated only to young people over the age of sixteen, so it was for the first time Ferry and his friends took part. Mr. Bell, the headmaster of the Primary School, the Mayor, and Albert Pride were now on the stage, giving their speeches. Ferry was particularly attentive to the latter who was now speaking.

"Young people are the future of this town," Ferry heard the calm, clear voice of Mr. Pride on the microphone. "For them, we have now created so many opportunities in Goodharts. For them, we have built the high school, the library and made jobs at the sawmill. They are the ones who take our dreams further. You have big dreams, I know that. But why take your dreams away? Why leave everything you know and it's safe for you? Keep your dreams," he said, louder. "But keep them here. Where they belong. Home."

Mr. Pride ended his speech in the applause and cheers of the crowd. Mr. Bell, who had turned even fatter over the last couple of years, and looked like a barrel ready to burst, thanked Mr. Pride, then began the basket auction. The first basket was Stephanie's. The girl walked to the stage, all smiles and confidence.

"Let's see what's inside Stephanie's basket," said Mr. Bell in a ceremonial manner, looking at the contents of the basket Steph held. "Yam, delicious! Eggplant and pepper salad, bread, and a ... pasta that looks very... appetising," he added, trying to hide the disgust on his face. "We'll start the auction at five coins. Who offers five coins?"

Ben, who was next to Ferry, raised his hand without too much enthusiasm.

"Five coins once... Five coins twice... Sold to Benjamin Knight," he said and banged his gavel on the desk brought on stage for this special event.

Steph went down the stage and joined Ben, giggling with excitement. Ben put on a forced smile, probably thinking about having to eat all the fat-free, vegetable dishes his girlfriend prepared.

"Next, we have Miss Matilda Harper," Mr. Bell announced. The girl went up the stage, dragging her feet, and looking gloomier than a cold, rainy autumn's day. "Matilda's basket," Mr. Bell continued," contains a juicy chicken roast, a blueberry pie, and some agave syrup. We start the auction at five coins."  

"Ten coins," said a determined voice from the back. Everyone turned their heads and saw Danny Stevens who was smiling, confidently. The crowd was now animated with uproar. Matilda didn't look very impressed, though.

"Fifteen coins," said a boy from the football team.

Matilda frowned, while Danny glared towards his rival with a menacing look.

"Twenty coins," he said, this time louder.

"Twenty-five coins," said another boy in the football team.

"Twenty-seven coins," Danny cut him short.

"Twenty-eight," said the first boy.

"Thirty!" shouted Danny.

Matilda seemed confused.

"Thirty-one," said the second boy.

"Oh, it looks like the fight is heating up," said Mr. Bell, rubbing his hands. "Is anyone offering more?"

"Thirty-five!" shouted Danny. Then, he cast threatening glances toward the entire football team. 

He was bigger and stronger than any of them. And he was determined to fight until the end.

"Thirty-five going once, thirty-five going twice... Sold to young and determined Daniel Stevens for thirty-five coins!" Mr. Bell concluded.

In the cheers of the crowd, Danny walked to the stage, took the basket from Matilda's hand, and offered her his arm. The girl rested her hand on his arm, all pounting. She didn't seem enthusiastic, just like half the football team, for that matter.

Then, there was Celia Haughty's turn. The other half of the football team fought for her basket. Eventually, Eddie Climbe, the captain of the team, won. He was a handsome young man with a promising future.

After a few more contestants, Mr. Bell announced May.

The girl went to the stage, a small smile in the corner of her mouth. She wore a light-blue coat and a blue satin bow in her hair. When she took the first steps on the stage, a sunbeam came out of the clouds and shone in her hair. The wind blew her hair, and the curls danced on her shoulders as she approached the desk.

"Miss May," Mr. Bell said in the same ceremonious manner, "has prepared for the lucky winner a delicious pie with sweet cheese and cherries, apple juice and sandwiches with spinach and eggs. The auction starts at five coins."

Ferry was careful to be next to the stage when May's bid started.

"Fifteen coins," he hurried to say so that all would see that he was willing to win. May smiled at him.

Whispers and uproar started behind him, but he didn't care.

"Thirty coins," a firm voice could be heard from the back.

Ferry turned. Of course. Billy Pride. Always minding other people's business. He wanted to wipe that grin off his face. Instead, he turned to the stage and said:

"Thirty-five coins."

May looked Ferry in the eyes, slightly worried.

"Fifty coins," Billy's voice came from the back. Ferry still had money to buy more than fifty coins, but Billy was willing to bid, too. And he couldn't compete with Billy's money.

"Fifty-five," Ferry said, his voice trembling.

"Seventy-five," came Billy's reply.

The uproar in the public grew.

"It seems we have a fairly compelling basket here," said Mr. Bell. "That only means more books for the library. Keep it up, boys!" he encouraged them, rubbing his hands.

"Eighty," said Ferry. He was frowning. For eighty coins, he needed three-quarters of his salary.

"Ninety," Billy's answer came after a second of hesitation. It looked that not even he was willing to give his full monthly allowance for a half-hour picnic, no matter how nice was the picnic partner.

Ferry was tired of this game, "A hundred coins," he said, loud and clear, this time. Billy's response wasn't coming. Ferry looked behind and saw him frowning. The grin had disappeared from his face.

"One hundred once, one hundred twice ... Sold to the most enthusiastic, reckless young man in Goodharts," Mr. Bell concluded.

In the crowd's applause, Ferry went to the stage and received May's basket from Mr. Bell's. The girl was still staring at him. Ferry reached out his hand. After a short hesitation, May took his hand. Hand in hand, they went down the stage and walked among the crowd that made room for them as if the king and his queen were walking among their humble servants.

Yet Ferry couldn't see anyone anymore. Holding May's hand, he felt he could fly. They left the crowd, the noise, the laughter, and the appetising smells behind. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. May followed him, without hesitating. And Ferry didn't dare to look at her. Instead, his heart was beating wildly, and he wondered if May could hear the beating of his happy heart. He knew where they were going for the picnic—at the edge of the Shepherd's Forest. He couldn't think of a better place. He had hidden a blanket in a bush nearby the day before.

But May stopped before reaching the forest. "Ferry, are you sure? You know this place is dangerous."

Ferry smiled, "Nothing will happen," he assured her. "Look, fireflies. Fireflies are always a good sign. Trust me."

Then, he realised they were still holding hands. They looked into each other's eyes and let go of their hands. Ferry placed the blanket on a soft layer of moss, and they sat. May began to take the food out of the basket.

"It's not much," she said. "Unfortunately, I wasn't really in the mood to cook."

"It's fine."

He was too nervous to eat, anyway. So, he chose a sandwich. May poured him chamomile tea from the thermos, and Ferry almost burned his lips with the hot tea; he drank it, anyway. Then, they smiled at each other, not knowing what to say. It was starting to get dark. Shadows fell over the forest. On the sky above them, rusty leaves floated, and the fireflies glittered. It was calm and cool. From time to time, the wind blew among the foliage.

"You didn't have to do that," said May. "To bid so much money for my basket, that is. How are you going to pay all that money?"

"I was paid for my first month as a gardener at the Mansion. Don't worry."

"You can't do that," she said. "You and your mom need that money. It's not worth it..."

Ferry shook his head, "It was all worth it. You're worth it," he said, looking into her eyes to let her know he meant it. "I'll work extra hours; I'll talk to Mrs. Pride. I'll ask her to borrow me some money until the next salary. She's nice to me and she'll help me. I'll handle it."

May smiled, nodding. Then, she watched the thin mist above the forest with her big eyes, as if she'd just discovered it. Instead, Ferry was watching her. May showed him the fireflies dancing in the sky. Her eyes were smiling. From time to time, she was shivering, although she was wearing a thick coat. Ferry took off his jacket and put it on her shoulders. A stripe of her brown hair touched his cheek, and Ferry shivered as well. To know her so close made him feel even more nervous. May was still shivering. Maybe because of the cold. Or maybe his closeness was as scary and alluring as it was hers to him. Ferry gently put his arm around her delicate shoulders. She didn't withdraw from his touch. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Ferry rested his cheek on her silky hair which smelled like a beautiful dream. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh flower scent in her hair. He didn't know for how long they stayed that way. He could feel May turning her head toward him and his heartbeat accelerated. He opened his eyes and discovered her looking at him. Yet her eyes were sad.

"What is it, May?" he asked.

The girl lowered her gaze, "I need to tell you something before— "

The girl detached from his embrace. She looked concerned about something. Ferry took off his gloves and took her cold hands into his. He wanted to feel her. She was  shivering, although the evening air was warm still.

"I've wanted to tell you something for a long time. Something I never told anyone. My parents know, of course..."

"Of course you can tell me," he said, holding her hands tighter.

"I'm not how you think I am. I mean... I'm not like you and the others in our class..."

"What do you mean?" he interrupted her.

"Listen to me, please," she begged. "You, of all people, must know. When my parents moved to this town, I was very young. I was a sick and sensitive child, who could catch a cold at the slightest blow of wind. But the air in this town was making me feel better than the one from the Big City, so we have decided to stay.

When I reached the age of seven, I got very sick. Pneumonia. I barely recovered from the illness. But I was too weak and I couldn't go to school. So my parents decided to postpone my entry to school and educate me at home. But after pneumonia, I became a sensitive child who had to be kept safe from any danger. It took me three years to recover. But I wasn't prepared for the third grade. So I was enrolled in the first grade, even though I was ten years old. I was small and thin, and I could easily pass as a seven-year-old girl. The school management agreed. Miss Summer knew my real age, but she kept the secret."

Ferry didn't know what to make of her story. "That means you're now...""... nineteen-year-old," she said in a low voice.

All this time, Ferry didn't let go of her hand.

"What difference does it make?"

May didn't answer. She couldn't look at him. Ferry lifted her chin with his finger and looked into her eyes, where two tears glittered.

"It doesn't matter," he told her.

"It doesn't matter to you," she whispers. "If others found out, I would surely become a joke to everyone. The high school's granny." Then she turned to him, "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"May, I won't tell anyone. Trust me," he said, trying to look as serious as possible. "But it's not a big deal..."

"It is, for me". Promise me," she said. 

Ferry moved closer to her and arranged his jacket on her shoulders. She rested her head on his shoulder again, and for a moment, time stood still.

"I promise," he whispered in her hair that ravaged all his senses. May turned her face to him. He could feel her cool breath on his chin and her eyelashes touching his cheek. His hand went down her waist. Their foreheads touched, united by their heartbeats. Ferry caressed his cheek by her soft hair, then looked for her mouth... A movement in the bush beside them made them wince. They moved away from each other, their hearts heavy. And their moment passed, like a balloon missed by a clumsy child's hand, rising to the skies above, forever lost.

*

The hills, wrapped by the night's shadows, were lit from place to place by shy or bold fires, talking to each other through playful sparks. People gathered around them, trembling with cold or perhaps pushed by the thrill that only the scary stories told around campfires could give. The fire in front of the Knight family's tent was bigger than the past years. That's because more people than usual had decided to join them.

Ferry found all his friends around the fire. Matilda, Ben, May, and her parents, Danny Stevens, Steph, even Mr. Adams, and Miss Summer, along with other Goodharts local people, each had found a place as close as the warmth as they could. Some were laughing, others were joking, but everyone was waiting for the same thing: the witching hour of the scary stories. In time, the spooky tales began to be told again and again; but there were always new ones to haunt the sleep of those who had ears to listen.

Ferry could hardly find a place near the fire. After he had accompanied May to her tent, he just wandered around, away from the forest, the fireflies, and May's almost-kiss. It happened that his friends were all on the other side of the fire. Ben was staring at the fire as Steph rested her head on his shoulder. May was busy with a thread of her dress, without even raising her eyes to look at him. Matilda, who also shied away from his gaze, was sitting next to Danny Stevens; the boy was telling her something, coming closer with his mouth to her ear, then laughing, his hand resting as if by mistake on the girl's shoulder. Matilda wasn't laughing; she even looked sad, staring blankly, with the shadows of the flames playing on her face. For some unknown reason, Danny's hand on Matilda's shoulder bothered him.

"Does anyone know a good ghost story?" Mr. Adams asked, and the laughter and noise around him stopped.

Some locals tried their talent as storytellers. But their stories proved to be rather boring. The children began to talk among themselves, a sign that no story was captivating enough.

"Then maybe someone knows about a scary place around here," Mr. Adams insisted.

"You mean haunted?" a child asked.

"You may say that," laughed Mr. Adams.

"The Shepherd's Forest," another child said.

"The abandoned railway."

"Mrs. Cobbs's house."

The children began to compete with each other in finding the most haunted place in Goodharts, laughing and giggling.

"The Pride Mansion," a woman's voice could be heard. And the laughter stopped.

 Everyone knew Mrs. Abigail Scott. She had a small-ware shop on the main street in Goodharts. The old lady looked small and frail, but her look was determined. She was wrapped in her black wool shawl, as always.

"Why are you saying that, Mrs. Scott?" asked Mr. Adams.

"There's a lot of strange things going on at that place, I'm telling you. That place is cursed."

A lady neighbour tried to calm her down, "Sssh, Abigail, don't talk nonsense. Master Pride might be around. He might hear you."

"I don't care if he hears me," she raised her voice. "That place is cursed... Servants dying in strange accidents, the former Mrs. Pride's suicide... And Robert. My Robert, vanishing from the face of the earth..." she said, sobbing.

That's when Ferry raised his eyes and studied the old woman more carefully. He looked at his friends—they were all paying attention to her sayings. Ben, Matilda, and May looked at each other, and then all looked at Ferry.

"Robert left," the neighbour said, gently. "He left you."

But Mrs. Scott shook her head, stubbornly, "Robert was not that man. He wouldn't have left me when he knew a child was to be born. I tell you, strange things happen in that house. And there is also the last floor, always locked. Why doesn't anyone know what's going on there? Why does everyone not see something bad happening there? she almost cried.

No one dared to answer.

"Why won't we listen to a song?" Mr. Adams decided, ready to end the talk about haunted places. Everyone agreed. Somehow, true stories were not particularly enjoyed by the people of Goodharts.

A man took out a flute, and he played an old song. In the silence that fell, the notes of the song blended with the sparks of the fire and the fireflies, flying towards the endless sky, to the moon and beyond. Right there, guarded by the moonlight in which the fireflies melted, with May so close and his best friends beside him, Ferry never felt more alone. 

https://youtu.be/SAN5JBTnlas

Well, the final part of the longest chapter I've ever written. What do you think?