BHS Journal

Got a secret? A little town drama? A story that just needs to be told?

The Bleeding Hearts Journal is here to keep you entertained (and maybe just a little nosy).

💌 Send an anonymous ask with rumors, suspicions, or “totally true” tales you’ve overheard. No names required—unless you want them in print. 👀 Stay tuned for the latest whispers—who’s been sneaking off together, who’s been feuding at the market, and what really happened at last week’s festival?

HOO-WEE!!!

Now, now, now, I ain't one for CONJECTURE, only cold hard facts settle well with me. But this? Miss Alaina Birchwood, hauntin' them there woods and floatin' like somethin' straight outta a horror film? That I best know with all of soul.

Some people are haunted by ghosts, demons, memories, what-could-have-been's. But, there's very few who are the haunting. This ain't the first we've heard of Miss Laney bein'...an odd duck. Yeah, let's say it like that. Rumor has it she didn't say a single word until she got to secondary school. Some people claim they see her floatin' head in their dreams, only to wake up to find she left somethin' on their porch. Hell, I've heard some folks at the Fishin' Post blamin' her on days they ain't gettin' any bites, like she's some kind of an angry deity.

Miss Laney is a hauntin' of a woman, but we gotta ask ourselves.. what can we do when it's just her spirit? If we try to interfere, would she smite us, release some kinda hell upon us? Or, would we just have a young woman tied to a tree as we have Pastor Tanaka flick some water at her face?

HONEY, HONEY, HONEY....

Oh, darlin’, now you know I ain’t one to go pokin’ my nose where it doesn’t belong — but if my nose just so happens to catch a whiff of somethin’ fishy, well, what am I supposed to do, plug it up?

Now, Montana Buchanan sneakin’ out of Ken Sutton’s RV? At that hour? Honey, she’s been slippin’ around this way and that way for a little while now, and I can’t say I like the sound of it. We all know Tanny’s got a heart as big as the state, bless it, but ever since she came back from tryin’ to make it big in the city, she’s been actin’ like a stray lookin’ for a place to land. And Ken? Well, that child's as tight-lipped as a jar of molasses in January. If she wasn’t up to nothin’, why’d she go scurryin’ off like a spooked rabbit?

Now, if I were her, I’d be takin’ a stroll through the park, clearin’ my head, or maybe tendin’ her poor mama, Loretta. That woman’s been havin’ a rough go of it lately — and last I checked, Ken Sutton wasn’t exactly a certified grief counselor. But hey, I’m sure there’s a perfectly innocent explanation. Maybe she was just borrowin’ some sugar. Or, y’know, somethin’ a little sweeter.

SHH, YOU KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!

Sugar, that place has been creakin’ and crackin’ like a house of horrors ever since Doc Folayan set up shop! I swear it, no, I SWEAR it, you walk past that clinic after dark and you’ll hear noises that’d put a haunted hayride to shame. Like what? Well, y’know, like… Oh, don’t you make me say it out loud! My poor heart can only take so much!

But let me tell you, sweetie, it ain’t just those walls that’ll give you the shivers. Doc Folayan? Oh, bless his heart — that man’s got the bedside manner of a funeral director and eyes that look like they’ve seen what’s waiting in the hereafter. Bless it, folks keep swearing by his tonics and remedies, but I once drank one of his “calming elixirs” and ended up hiccupping smoke for a week!

Now that you mention it, though, I have been hearin’ he’s been lockin’ those doors tighter than a preacher’s wallet at a casino. No appointments after dark, no exceptions. What’s he cookin’ up in there? Some kind of miracle cure? Or maybe he’s just tryin’ to keep that pet poltergeist of his from skippin' town!

OH, BLESS MY STARS!

Not little baby Montana Buchanan, thinking herself all grown up now to have herself a little boyfriend! Lord, I remember when she barely came up to the knee and rode the family dog halfway up to the Church before her daddy caught wind of her, rest his soul! But what’s this you’re saying, honey? City boy? Now, let me think here for a second — what kind of city boy would little Miss Buchanan be—

OH, BLESS MY STARS, TWICE!

You’re not telling me it’s Haruto Uehara’s boy — Hiro?! Why, weren’t we just talking about that boy and little Josie Sutton not too long ago? Bless it! That heartbreaker’s gonna have these girls lined up with broken hearts from here to Clover Creek Ranch if we don’t do nothing about it!

Now, you didn’t hear it from me, but… word is, he’s been getting real cozy with a certain someone down in our little Springs. And if you ask me, it won’t be long before Tanny’s brothers get wind of it and make sure he knows just what a Buchanan handshake feels like…

LORD, MERCY ME!

The nerve of some folks, hollerin’ and carryin’ on like wild animals in the Lord’s own forest! And at Josie Sutton, no less—That girl is barely five foot with her boots on! She don’t need to be dealin’ with wild men and their temper tantrums! I do hope you stepped in, sugar. Or at least hollered back! ’Cause I’ll tell you what, if I ever saw someone barkin’ up that tree, I’d march myself right down there with a wooden spoon and a hymnbook.

But now... between you and me and the Springs? That little sugarplum’s got more grit than she lets on. I’ve seen her sweet-talk the socks off a snake oil salesman come one Night Market, and plumb talked Granny out of her last slice of cherry pie. So if she ended up in a tree? I wouldn’t be surprised if she put herself there just to make a scene look good. Horns hold up halos, honey!

Still—someone oughta check on that boy. If he was fool enough to yell at Josie Sutton in public, well... bless it. He don’t know what kinda mess he’s made.

NOW HOLD ON THERE!

You talkin' 'bout that lil' mousy librarian and that quiet one with orange goo stuck to their porch? Mackin' in front of the good ol' folks tryin' to sip on their coffees and what have you? HOO-WEE, looks like we got ourselves a good ol' fashion romance brewin' here in the Springs! Lord knows I love to hear it!

Are weddin' bells ringin' for the pair already with that there public display of affection? Or, is this just some kind of fleetin', uh...what's that word? Fling? Is that what the young-ins 'round town call it still?

Funny, though...Miss Molly Hiatt's been 'round here for a coupla years and I ain't ever heard of her battin' her eyelashes at anyone...and come to think of it, didn't I hear somethin' 'bout that Metzli Bernal gettin' the moves put on them by Val Estrada?

Now, I sure hate speculatin' sometimes, but I'm sure this whole thing ain't gonna cause any drama 'round these parts!

OH, BLESS IT!

My heart just about leapt out my chest readin' that!

That poor Uehara boy, all cooped up in that little van… I mean, I knew he was makin' do, but I didn’t think he was rattlin' around like a can in a storm drain! You don’t think he’s got mice in there, do you? Or worse—is he mournin’ that poor grandmother of his, all by his lonesome?! Oh, bless him, I do hope he wasn’t havin’ some sort of breakdown!

Now I do believe in mindin’ your own, but I also believe in checkin’ on your neighbors. We are a community! A web of hands, reachin' out and liftin' up! Th’next time you find yourself passin’ by the Uehara's road and that van’s a-rockin’, you got my full blessing to go knock and check on him. He could be havin’ a spell! Or a fit! Oh, that poor, sweet dear.

HOO-WEE!!!

Now, ain't that a kicker? One of our newest city-slickers-turned-country, Val, is tryin' to pull a fast one here on us in the Springs! Did I hear that, right? Turnin' people's poor, innocent creatures away if your face don't fit that golden ratio up in her noggin? Here I thought that kinda drama only happened at the Stag during Happy Hour.

Lucky for me, this ol' face didn't get rejected when I brought my sweet cockatoo Gizzard in for a lil' maintenance but the rest of y'all may need to learn how to spay your fluffy friends if that's the case.

Come to think of it...that seems awful silly, don't it? She ain't been 'round these parts for long, but she seems a lil' too straight laced for some kinda nonsense like refusin' service for your unfortunate face, but you never know a person's character until they let you in.

But, you didn't hear it from me!

OH MY STARS.

You're tellin' me that—get closer now, sugar!—you're tellin' me that Amelia Hiatt, sweet little Molly, the librarian, was caught smokin’ outside the library? And during storytime, no less?! That’s a boldness I haven’t seen since the Happy Apple tried to deep fry butter at the bake sale. In fact, I couldn't believe that if ya dangled a photo of it right before my eyes! You... you don’t have a photo, do you? No?

Now, y’didn’t hear it from me, but I happen to know that girl’s been under a heapin’ helpin’ of pressure since she rolled into our dear lil’ Springs. Word is, she came here to escape something—an ex? A secret job? Or heavens help us all… a double life? I knew her handwriting was too neat for a simple public servant. Are we the quiet little town she’s chosen for a fresh start... or are we the last stop before she disappears for good?

One thing’s for sure: next time I check out a cookbook, I’ll be flippin’ through it real careful—might be a burner phone tucked between them biscuit recipes.

WELL BUTTER MY BISCUITS AND CALL ME A WITNESS—

You’re tellin’ me there was screamin’ and slammin’ and a whole splatter of orange goo flyin’ out the front door of Metzli’s house?! Lord, what in the name of sweet tea and séance circles is goin’ on over there? Y' think maybe they caught themself a real, honest to th' Lord harvest sprite?!

Now, between you and me.... Metzli’s always struck me as the quiet type—keeps to themselves, polite as a prayer, but honey, the quiet ones are always the ones with a lil’... mystery under their mattress, if you catch my drift. Could be they finally got fed up with whatever cursed jam was infestin’ their kitchen, or maybe they were tryin’ to exorcise a particularly spicy marmalade!

Whatever it was... bless it and burn it, 'cause I sure ain't knockin’ on that door till I see Metzli at the potluck smilin’ with both hands visible.

Well, thanks for your time, folks! It looks like our favorite sharply dressed duo got… at least some of the answers they were looking for. Whatever those were. Here’s hoping next time the census comes knocking, they’ll ask more about household sizes and fewer questions about the raccoon uprising. But hey—who are we to question the process? We're not government officials.

NOW, NOW!

None of that playground nonsense 'round here, sugarplum—this ain't recess, this is journalism! We deal in facts, eyewitness accounts, and... maybe just a touch of some well-seasoned speculation. Now, nobody on this side of the Springs would deny the Suttons and Buchanans are closer than biscuits and gravy… but are you tellin’ me they might be getting cozy in a whole new way?

C'mere, sugar, keep your voice down... Was it behind the Pure Valley plot? Over by the Apiary’s honeyhouses? Or—land sakes!—was it somewhere real private, like the Old Mill or out in the forest?!

You know we can't print nothin’ we didn’t hear with our own two ears... so c’mon, sugar, don’t you dare keep the Springs waitin’!

There’s a knock at your door.

When you open it, you're greeted by two sharply dressed strangers—one tipping a dark cowboy hat with a grin, the other standing tall with immaculate blonde pin curls that somehow defy the breeze. “Hi there,” one of them says. “We’re with the Bleeding Hearts Town Census. Got a moment?”

** It’s meme day, baby! 

This is an optional ask meme event, styled like a good old-fashioned census, that will last through the rest of Thursday and all of Friday (4/18).

Under the read more, you’ll find thirty different...."census" questions, all numbered.

Like this post if you'd like to participate—doing so makes your character(s) fair game for others to send you numbered questions based on the list. Just make sure your ask box is open, and let the wildly personal small-town surveys begin!

Lord help us, folks–

Someone out here says they heard screamin’ up near the forest! Seems like the sort of hollerin’ that gets the birds flyin’ and your neighbor peekin’ through the curtain. It’s startin’ t’get dark out, so I surely hope no one’s gone and gotten themselves turned around in the trees! Come t’think of it… didn’t we see Miss Andie Cherry goin’ on a little walk through th’ wood clearin’ earlier t’day? Hope she’s not still out there when th’owls start t’hoot!

Then again, y’know what we say ‘round here:

Get lost in th’woods, and you’ll run into either a bear or a Sutton sooner or later.

One’ll give you directions, the other might make ya learn t’build a campfire. Flip a coin!