It starts...

“The tallest tree in all of Wisconsin is no bigger than a turtle”.
“No,” I said, ”this cant be true.”
“It is.” she replied.
I accepted without further question.
I accepted many many statements such as this throughout my early education, you see, I was home schooled. My mother loosely followed the curriculum for the Pennsylvania state board of education, but she would randomly throw in facts, that, as I have aged, I found make no sense.
My father was run over by a heard of oxen when I was 8. The oxen belonged to our neighbor, who had on many occasions attempted to bed my mother. The question of whether it was an accident or not still remains. Mainly because no one is certain how to train an ox. At the funeral, my neighbor brought flowers for the deceased, and flowers for my mom. The funeral was on Valentines day. Valentines day the following year, they were wed. I was 9.
By 20 my mother had officially declared me a high school graduate. I passed the exam, but decided not to continue with my education. I started work on the farm. I didn’t know anyone, and had never set foot outside of Pennsylvania. The township we lived in was Claridge Court, I could only see one other house from our property, but had never known anyone who lived there.
At 22, my mother died. To this day I have no idea how this happened. I came in from the barn, and there sat my step dad eating at the kitchen table, with my deceased mothers body on the floor 3 feet away.
“Your mom’s dead” he told me.
I left.
I didn’t see a point to stay in a house with a man that wasn’t my father and who I couldn’t consider a father figure. I had no other family in Claridge Court, and I never made any friends. So, I walked down the driveway with a bag full of clothes, $67, and a blank check I had stolen from my step dad on the way out.
This is where my story begins.