Willow Creek

This story starts a long, long time ago, way back in 1883, in what some call the heart of America. Imagine yourself just east of Kansas City, swatting bugs from your face, farming and constantly drying off sweat from working so hard. There in fact existed a very small, rural farm town the locals called Willow Creek, population 203, and this was the local way of life. There were no signs in the town, however, referencing its name, and all the street signs were old, rusted and unreadable. This made no difference to the locals because they always knew exactly where they were, but all the tourists traveling through would get lost and have to stop and ask where they were. The locals started to joke they should change the name of the town too middle-of-nowhere and build a creepy, run down motel for the tourists to spend the night just to freak them out.

Jake Guber, a reporter from the local gazette, was writing a piece on tourism in Willow Creek.

“Hey, old man Joe. How you doing?” Jake asked one of the locals.

“Great, not that it’s any business of yours. Why do you ask, son,” old man Joe said then spat on the ground.

“I’m writing a story about tourists and what the locals think of them. It almost seems to me the locals are trying to keep the tourists away. Is there any truth to that statement?” Jake asked.

“Darn tootin! Gosh dang tourists and all their jibber-jabbering. They’re always stopping at my hardware store, askin’ for directions then not buying nuthin! Thats why I sold the dang place and started this here wheat farm. Then, one time one-uf-‘em dang tourists stopped on my farm at two in the morning, banging on my door and waking the cats, asking if he could spend the night cause he was lost. I yelled at him ‘you dang near woke all my cats you dang tourist! You should be ashamed! Now skat! Go, before I get my shotgun and blow your dang head off,’ and I slammed the darn door in his face. You should’ve seen his expression,” Old man Joe said while slapping his knee, chewing a stick of wheat and spitting. He repeated the same story in the same fashion for anyone who would listen.

Jake knew this story wasn’t really news. He knew all the locals heard all of Old Man Joe’s stories through the grape vine or in person, but he had nothing else to publish. So the same old story Old Man Joe had been repeating to everyone for decades had made the paper.

Willow Creek was a picturesque and quaint town with long, rolling hills, lush gorgeous greenery, and overtly friendly people. “Most beautiful town of the year,” The Willow Creek gazette called it. The town had a very busy Main Street which included an abundance of mom-and-pop shops, musical cafes, and a larger then needed general store.

In the center of the town stood a large and wonderful oak tree that was estimated to be over two hundred years old. Sadly, a few people had carved their names into it, and a fence had to be put up around the tree.

The oak became the towns symbol of strength and bore witness to all of the towns crowning achievements and failures over the many, many decades since the towns incorporation.

The residents of Willow Creek were a very close community. They treated each other like family, knew all of each others secrets and all looked out for each other. They were so close they even gave money to one another if need be. Some of the townspeople even helped pay of Jimmys gambling debt year after year, even though he knew he would never give up the addiction. The townspeople spent much time together celebrating festivals, organizing community events, and participating in their bi-monthly town hall meeting to discuss the issues of the week.

The Townsfolk had been losing money from all their generosity in helping one another, and little by little the local money was trickling into other cities, and not enough money was coming in from other economies. They tried bartering with each other, but the townsfolk never seemed to have enough goods to trade.

The mayor of Willow Creek had an idea. He would attract a wealthy person to move to town to stimulate the economy by offering no taxes for a year and a tax break every year after to any wealthy family that was willing to move to Willow Creek.

After months of promoting their new tax breaks, a new family finally moved into the town. The Johnsons, a wealthy family of four, finally moved to town. There was Jack and Jill Johnson, the parents, and their two perfectly adorable and ultra polite children, Tommy and Sarah, both with strawberry blonde hair. The Johnsons were not your typical city folks, they had grown up on a farm long before they lived in the city. They had moved to Willow Creek to get back to the old farm life and away from the commotion and crowds that had defined their eldritch city life. They had made their fortune in selling butter, after all, and a new type of butter using pigs milk, and it was about time they showed their kids how to farm for when they inherited the family business. Willow Creek was the perfect place to start a new life, far from the eldritch horrors of living in a crime filled city.

The Johnson family was given a very warm and endearing welcome by the residents of Willow Creek. They were invited to all the best community events, to all the parties, and, of course, their children were enrolled in the best private school Willow Creek had to offer. Jack Johnson opened a hardware store on Main Street, and this was in addition to his pig milk farm. Jill eventually got bored and hired a sitter to watch the kids after school so she could start a small bakery.

Life was going well for the Johnsons, and they had settled into their new life very quickly. Tommy and Sarah had made lots of new friends who helped them enjoy their new school. Jack and Jill were happy running their businesses and helping the local community prosper and thrive.

A few months had passed, and a terrible disaster had befallen Willow Creek. A wild and torrential storm hit the small town, and the great oak tree in the center of the town was uprooted. It had devastated the town, and the residents felt like their hearts had been torn to shreds. To see their great old historical oak tree lying on the ground was horrifying enough, but when Jack and Jill tried to fix the tree by lifting it up and replanting it, the tree split in half. It was then struck by lightning and burst into flames, burning the tree to ashes. Many residents needed several months of therapy after witnessing this horribly insidious incident.

“This is worse then the apocolypse,” many townsfolk muttered. Others could barley handle living anymore. One of the residents even drove off a cliff. He lived, but in the hospital he ranted about the oak not being there in the city all night long.

An emergency town hall meeting was called, and the residents gathered to discuss what to do with the fallen tree. Some wanted to collect the ashes and sell it at auction to the highest bidder, while others wanted to turn it into a monument. There were many heated debates about the subject, but no decision was made.

The Johnson children, Tommy and Sarah, had come up with a brilliant idea, but had to shout for everyone to be quiet before anyone started to listen. They had learned about woodcarving at their school of fine arts for talented youth, and they suggested that the fallen trees ashes be mixed into clay, then be turned into a sculpture. Some of the residents were unhappy with this at first, not seeing the viability of the project. Tommy and Sarah were persistent, reiterating the fact that this was the best way to honor the ancient and fallen historical landmark, and they convinced the town to give their idea a try. If they didn’t like the sculpture, they could always blow it up or demolish it after it was finished. They also suggested using one of the trees acorns to grow a new oak tree next to the monument, then they’d have a living descendent of the actual tree.

After getting approval and a small plot of land to build the monument and plant the acorn, the whole Johnsons family went to work, and they spent weeks and weeks carving the fallen oak tree out of clay that was mixed with the ashes of the original tree. They worked relentlessly, day after day, and after a few months, their hard work paid off. The beautiful statue they created was a wonderful and accurate depiction of the original tree, and they even posted a sign on the monument with the town's history, the history of the tree, and the meaning of the monument. The sign started with “This monument is dedicated to the great people of Willow Creek. May it’s denizens live a long, healthy life and prosper for eternity.”

When the beautiful Oak Tree sculpture was revealed at the next community meeting, and the residents were so amazed that it had uplifted them all out of their depression. It was the most beautiful and desirable tribute to the fallen oak tree anyone could imagine, and it had brought the town to tears. Everyone was grateful for Tommy and Sarah’s idea, and the mayor even gave them the keys to the city.

The oak tree statue became the city’s new symbol until the baby oak started growing from the acorn. They put a plaque on the tree that said, “Together, we are never really alone.” The tree grew big and strong.

The Johnsons had become an important part of the town, most calling them local heroes, and were considered lifelong friends of everyone in the city. They had found a great new home in Willow Creek, and they were happy to have helped such a warm, kind community that repaid everyone in respect, love and curtesy.

“Everyone here is great,” Tommy said.

“Yes, let’s never move,” Sarah replied.

Years passed, and the sculpture now had a giant oak covering most of it, but still managed to become a tourist attraction, bringing thousands of tourists, both foreign and from towns close by. The town of Willow Creek had become a thriving metropolis, fame beginning with its beautiful sculpture, which had helped put the town on the map. Slowly, other residents started businesses for the tourists, like bakery’s that only served the Johnsons pig milk butter, which was now a local delicacy. A few of the residents also started nightclubs, the most famous one was called pigs-in-butter, and a fancy new hotel was built for the wealthier tourists.

The Johnsons had become more successful then ever, and their hardware store and bakery had not only become staples of the community, but they were able to start a chain of bakery’s that only served products made with their own pig milk butter. They had built a new and wonderful life for themselves in Willow Creek, and they were more then happy to call this magical place their home.

Tom and Sarah had eventually inherited the business and expanded it even further, opening up stores internationally and franchising their name, making their parents extremely proud. They even traveled the world to visit people who had franchised from them to help them manage and grow their business. This became an integrated part of their corporate success.

The whimsical story of the Johnson family and the town of Willow Creek had spread across the America’s, and became the aspirations of most in the heart of America.

The Johnson family then created a large medical company that sold pharmaceuticals. They decided to use their last name twice, since two Johnson’s founded the company.