Glennville

By: Wendell Sweet

Narrated by: Virtual Voice

A look at the town of Glennville. Bobby, Moon and Lois are the central points of this book, but they will also introduce you to their parents, the Sherif Kyle Stevens and some of the other town locals that make Glennville, Glennville. They are trying to spend the summer enjoying the beauty of the upstate New York town, camping, adventures, all the things three eleven year old kids could do for a summer in 1969. But Glennville is no ordinary town and there is always something else going on...

The Black River was more than just a geographical feature; it was a whispered legend in the hushed corners of Glennville, a dark, sinuous promise on the edge of their ordinary lives. For Lois, Bobby, and Moon, it represented the untamed, the exhilarating unknown that lay just beyond the familiar streets and the oppressive normalcy of their days. Summer had settled over Glennville like a thick, humid blanket, but beneath the languid heat, a different kind of energy was building – a shared hunger for adventure, a yearning to push the boundaries of their small-town existence. The river, with its murky depths and shadowed banks, beckoned with an irresistible allure.

It was a place where the predictable rhythm of Glennville seemed to break, where the rules that governed their lives felt distant and irrelevant. The hushed reverence with which the older kids spoke of its hidden coves and treacherous currents only fueled the younger ones’ fascination. They’d seen glimpses of it from the dusty backroads, a dark ribbon weaving through overgrown trees, hinting at secrets the town couldn’t contain. Lois, ever the observer, had always felt its pull. She’d imagine the smooth, cool water against her skin, the quiet murmur of its flow as a counterpoint to the constant hum of her mother’s worries or the distant roar of the mill. It was a space that felt entirely their own, a canvas for the adventures their limited world couldn't otherwise provide.

Bobby, with his boundless optimism, was the first to voice the nascent plan. He’d arrived at Lois’s doorstep one sweltering afternoon, his face flushed with excitement, a hastily drawn map clutched in his hand. The map, sketched on the back of a discarded flyer for a long-forgotten town picnic, depicted a rough, ambitious route to the furthest reaches of the Black River accessible by foot. "Lois," he’d panted, barely containing his enthusiasm, "We have to go. To the end of it. The real end."