Heritage Woods: A Short Story

William stared at Mary. The last thing he wanted to do was monitor the family planning practices of couples at Heritage Woods. William didn’t want to come right out and say it, but he hoped to God that the farmhands were using condoms. More mouths to feed on the estate promised to strain the finite resources the community produced. The community stemmed the influx of new farmhands, which meant the only new mouths to feed were newborn infants. “I don’t see how limiting access to Redwood is going to stop condom use in Heritage Woods. They’re nearly impossible to detect. Besides, you don’t even know for sure that they’re being used,” William said. “Oh, I know they’re being used. We need to root out every evil on this estate.” “All right, look, I have no

I haven’t seen any behavior around here that warrants public shaming in a stockade,” William said. “Then you’re not looking hard enough.”
“All right, let’s say there is something, what do you have in mind? Do you really want to shackle men and women in a stockade while the rest of us throw rotten tomatoes at them?”
“If that’s what it takes to root out immorality, so be it.”
“All right, all right, like I said, I’ll think about it. What are the plans for the Sunday afternoon activities?” William asked.
Every Sunday after church services, the men and women separated by sexes and engaged in community activities. The men combined labor for barn raisings, fence construction, and sprucing up around the orchard. If there were no community projects, or they finished early, the men would spend the afternoon throwing horseshoes, racing horses, or holding shooting contests. The women would convene for sewing bees, canning sessions, or knitting circles. On Sunday evenings, the community would share dinner, then meet in a large, empty barn for square dances and hoe downs.
“I was going to ask the menfolk to build the stockade,” Mary said.
“No, Mary, please…. Not this Sunday. I need to think about