The audio drama Alliance Springs Grove, chapter two, A home unbroken. Storms
in the woodland can be a spectacular display of many powerful forces, as the
wildness of nature turns to take on its most terrifying form in springs grow.
Most of the inhabitants lived in the stout trunks of trees, a number of
them being some of the oldest in elderwood. Thus, lightning was often the
most probable cause for concern, though flooding could also be alike the adversary for
those who lived near the wooden floor, and for one small family of squirrels
in particular, this was a constant problem, for they lived in the side
of a small gully, within the stump of an ancient oak tree that had
long ago lost its stop. It was here where Chester's mother, Rosemary,
found herself once again better than the harsh elements of nature. Cool. Why
why why did it have to start raining again? It keeps everywhere. I
suppose it serves me right for choosing to make a home out of a tree
stump. Mother. Why can't we live in a big tree like mister Klemock.
Because we are poor, unfortunate creatures falling on hard times. Daisy.
An old cliche, to be sure, but it certainly fits with our circumstances.
Mister Chemmick is a respected historian, and quite whether he can afford that
old sycamore. I wish we could live more more. It looks so grand,
excited all the lad troops he had the steak glass windows. Indeed,
I dare say it's one of the oldest trees in Elderwood that's still living,
though I hear the inside suffers from an immense lack of dustin Mister Kleinmich has
been living alone there for far too long in my opinions. Oh, no,
another leak, and right above my stove. Where is Chester? You
just been home hours ago? Dear what a storm there you are. Grab
anything you think might old water and start bearing with your sister Chester the stump,
thinking again, well, of course it's leaking. If this thing were
a boat, you would have sunk before you got holed here. Get that
one over there with this jar, and mother, this is the jar with
the crack in it. Dear me, that certainly is not help. Chuckling
chestnut, I'm running out of things to put the water in. No,
mother, look there, what where we've got the bit of the flatting situation
under the door. Oh, dear Racius, it's a deluge of breeching torrent
quick quick, witch something under the door. I've got her rug here that
might work. No, no, not that you'll ruin it. Do you
have a better idea? Mother? No, you're right. Here's the rug
us the rug though I'm sure my Aunt Mildred wouldn't approve. She made that
from years ago. Mother, was this crack of the ceiling here yesterday?
Not likely. Go down into the cellar, Daisy and fetch me one of
those old boards, and please hurry. I've found a nothing one over here.
That's one I've done about for some time. It appeared last winter when
missus wither what was here for Tea the school teacher? I don't remember that
you weren't home at the time, And lucky you she dropped in sudden like
the visit was ghostly Apolline. To put it in her own words, she
used the phrase at every possible opportunity. I still wonder whether that crack was
the stump's reaction to her personally, or if it happened when she bumped her
head on the ceiling. Either way, I patched it up nicely, but
apparently it's resurface. Mother, What is it? Daisy? Miss weather Work
taught us a big word at the school last week, but I'm not sure
if I'm using it right now? Is not exactly the best time for this,
young miss? What word are you talking about? Well? Would you
say the back of the wall in our cellar? Is this synegraeing decinograding our
backball in the cellar? It's, oh my, the first time on my
motherly career, I dreadfully hope you've misapplied her vocabulary daily h Yes, Daisy,
I believe you did make accurate use of that word. It doesn't seem
to be too much of a problem, though, Mother, You're right,
I think if it remains characteristic of the east wall, it's not like it
always has, they will only be minor damage. As that sounded clips?
When will it stop? The storm is dreadful? Just dreadful? I suppose
our home is full of departure, sir? How could things possibly get anywhere?
A fire? Fire? Don't believe this? Just to get that back
croupt from under the door and stop waiting it back it's stacked there. We
have jars of water everywhere. Why don't we use stoves? Of course,
thank you for pointing out the obvious, Daisy, it's a small fire a
by the window. It shouldn't be too difficult to put out, Daisy,
pass me those jars. I just I can't believe it. I can't believe
it. All the tall trees and elderwood. It's my stump, my home
that gets struck by lightning. It's it's just I give up, well completely
fairly as a mother. You poor young ones were built a batch of bad
acorns with me. Misery is just my lotch and I'm doomed to pass it
on. I don't think so, mother, Daisy's right. What you're saying
couldn't be more untrue. None of this is your fault. Mother. It's
not just tonight, it's everywhere of the long years we've spent in this miserable
home. Perhaps if I could do more than soa buttons onto shirts, we
could live in a proper tree like most other squirrels. Maybe if if,
what if I'd learned more in school, if I bed better choices, if
I not let your father be so reckless with his life, then maybe,
dear mother, please don't cry. It suns miserable foxes. They're the ones
to blame mother, not you, Just to please it's so long ago.
Then, why won't you tell me his name? Why? The fox who
killed father? Mother? What was his name? You'll never tell me?
Oh, Chester, Why won't you ever tell me? Because you need to
let it go. Your father would have wanted you to spend your seasons hunting
down his killer. The foxes are gone, Chester, They've been for so
many years. They are they really Look at us, look at you.
See what they've done and taking father's life. They've taken our lives too,
And they've even got you believing that it's your fault when it's so clearly not.
I wish you would stop saying that it is. Chester. Why are
you angry at mother? Hush, Daisy. Chester is not angry at least
not at me. I I'm sorry. Mother's right, Daisy, I'm not
angry at her. How can I be. She's been the only light in
our lives since father died. Now, I'll not have that. That's true
as far as I'm concerned. There's only one thing that's held nigh him together
over the years. I'm not talking about the walls. I think the rate
is stopping. Oh my, yes, it seems all right. Daisy storms
lifting. I'll see if anything in my room is still dry enough to sleep
on. Chester, Yes, thank you, Oh what was his name?
Mother? That night, Chester was glad to find his room remarkably well preserved
from the deluge of the rain that had so dampened the indoors of his home.
His bed was dry, and so was the wooden desk in which he
kept his value bus. Opening the top drawer, he fished out a small
oaken knife with a very fine blade, something his father had given him when
he was much younger. Lying there on his bed, he listened as the
wet leaves outside continued to drift deep into the night, wondering of somewhere out
there as certain Fox was lying awake as well, listening to the last revvance
of the same rain as he was. Springscrove. Chapter two, A Home
Unbroken, was written and directed by Nate Kofall. Our cast included Victoria Lynn
as Rosemary, Elizabeth Cupper as Daisy, and Nathan Cooffall as Chester, and
the narrator voice track editing by Austin Peachey. Music was composed by Mark Mulkay
and sound design and mix by Ezra Losa. Our executive producer is J D
Setter, and I'm Tamara Green. Thanks for listening.