INTRODUCTION:
Meet Ziffy!
It was Tom Alden, retired electrician from Beaverton, Oregon, that discovered the the long-kept secrets of the woods behind the Cascadia Home Retirement Community. Situated in the Cascade Mountains, near Corvalis, Cascadia Home was formerly known as "Roslov Manor." It was built by Yuri Roslov (an immigrant from Kamchatka), beginning construction in 1878.
Landing in Portland in 1865, Yuri started out as a simple logger. And through hard work, and determination, he soon had his own operation by 1870. Two-years later, he had his own lumber mill. One mill turned into two, then three, whereupon he began to invest in every lucrative industry west of the Mississippi River: gold and silver mines, cattle, breweries, vineyards, and so-forth. And by 1880, Yuri had become one of the wealthiest men in Oregon—if not the entire Pacific Northwest. That same year, while his mansion was still being constructed, Yuri took his wife and children on a tour of Europe. While this was a vacation meant for leisure, he also had another purpose in mind.
Yuri had a penchant for the occult, arcane, folklore, and myth. While this was well-known to all that knew him personally, what they didn't know was that he was also a devout believer in these things. And when in London, he used his connections to find a man that claimed to be a sorcerer, from whom he acquired a small, magic box. The box, itself, wasn't much to look at: about the size of a snuff-box, tarnished bronze, with no flourishes nor decorations to speak of. Yet, it could be easily carried in a coat pocket. And this suited Yuri just fine, although he paid a small fortune for it. After all, enchanted items don't come cheap!
He was told by the sorcerer, that taking this box into a forest, and saying, "bhailiú" (the Irish-Gaelic word that means to gather, or collect), the box would do so. And then buring the box, in a new location of his choice, would release the spirits to inhabit that location. However, it had to be one of the forests that was, of course, inhabited by such magical creatures for them to be collected. And, not all of them were. However, Yuri had a good notion of where to start...
Leaving his family in London to enjoy the museums, theatres, and other attractions for monied-visitors to Victoria's Realm, he took a train to Scotland, and then a coach to the villages of the Highlands. He did the same in Strasbourg, Germany, heading out for a small village called, Wolfach, deep in the Black Forest. He would do this throughout Europe: Marseilles, Athens, Naples, St. Petersburg, Vienna, Seville... Until, two-years later, after an extended vacation, they would return home, to Oregon, to a completed mansion. But, the secret of what Yuri had done to the forest surrounding the estate would die with him thirty-five years later...
A century later, the Roslov's would abandon the old estate—for more modern, lavish homes, dotted all over the globe—leaving it in a trust for the Catholic Charities of Northern Oregon. This was, naturally, a business decision, being that the family was Russian Orthodox, and not Catholic. However, they knew that going with the Church of Rome, for this, would ensure that their ancestral property would be put to good use, by an organization that had the money to do so. And they were right... It took some time, but the mansion was converted to a modern facility with all the amenities like satellite television and high-speed WiFi, as well as a state-of-the-art medical facility. And this is where Tom Alden found himself, at 65-years-old, newly retired, and ready for the slow-paced lifestyle of living in the country.
Why am I telling you all of this?
Well, I just wanted to get the "background" of this fantastical tale out of the way. I mean, why stand on pretense? Oh, sure... I could given it to you, bit-by-bit, as the story unfolded, but there are plenty of other mysteries, surprises, and plot-twists to come, anyway!
And, oh... I almost forgot... as to Yuri's motivation for collecting all these forest-spirits for his own estate (and, by-the-way, the "sorcerer" was no charlatan, and all he promised was quite real): Yuri was an incorrigible satyriasis (the male-version of a "nymphomaniac"); the man would fuck anything that moved. So, presumably, with all the nymphs, dryads, and other similar creatures—now inhabiting the forests on his property—Yuri died a happy man. After all, he worked hard for it; he earned it...
And let me apologize to you (the reader) for breaking the "forth-wall". I'll try not to do it, again...
***
Tom woke up every morning at 4:30am, as was his habit for the past forty-three years. And as anybody who has ever worked in the construction trades know, being up before dawn is pretty much a given. He, then, immediately, headed for the coffee-maker in the kitchen of his modest, one-bedroom cottage. True, having one of the few outlaying—and very private—cottages on the grounds was much more expensive than just a simple room in the converted mansion (he was told his cottage was the butler's quarters up until the 1970's). But Tom could afford it, seeing that he made a good living before he retired, had a generous pension, and made the right investments, as to make sure his "golden-years" were quite comfortable.
After a hitch in the navy as an Electrician's Mate, he returned to his native Portland, and promptly got a union job in his chosen trade. He considered himself one pretty lucky guy, being one of those that seemed to have made all-the-right-moves/at-the-right-time, and seemed to avoid any life-changing disaster when times got tough. But this was not because he was especially savvy or smart, it was just blind-ass luck, he reckoned. However, he never married, nor had a family; he was a life-long bachelor. But once again, this was not by any plan, or design; just the random chaos of the Universe. So, after coffee, breakfast, and a shower, he thought about heading to the rec-room, and flirting with the eligible biddies that would surely be there—trolling for cock. But, "Nah," he thought, and headed for the woods, and a nice leisurely stroll through nature's splendor.
Tom went as far as he dared without getting lost. Although he prided himself on his sense-of-direction, a man, after all, has to know his limitations. It was then that he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. At first, the adrenaline hit, and his heart began to race. It was the typical "fight-or-flight" response (exacerbated by the hyper-vigilance he had began to experienced after some pretty scary encounters, due to frequenting places of vice and indulgence in foreign ports). Yet, upon focusing on the source, he saw it was a young girl frolicking about. But, she was... naked?!
"Child," he called to her, "are you okay?"
