- The Writers Voice -

[shadowlight]

I hope you enjoy, and I apologize for the size of the image (and the delay). God bless and Happy New Year,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Harry]

Blue Cows

Harry Buschman


There was a time in my young life when everything was blue. Above the tree line back of the cattle barn the sky was a sharp blue to the east in the morning and the clouds were solid white, sharp edged and brittle. They seemed to hang motionless – waiting for the day to begin.

On such a brand new day I was eager to begin also. I got the cows out of the barn and on the well worn path to the dew wet grazing field before the sun woke up the blue bottle flies. Regardless of the weather the cows would complain all the way – they’d grouse the way women do for having been roused so early. Maybe they’d sense my eagerness to abandon them would mean I’d spend my day fishing in the swift running river that left pools of still water under the trees that bordered the bluegrass field and the blue hills to the east – and they’d have no one to complain to.

As the morning progressed, the intense blue sky would fade and by midday it would be silvery and pale. Gray clouds would hang over the blue hills and with one eye I’d keep the cows in sight and with the other I’d keep watch on the cork at the end of my fishing line. The cows needed no attention, but the cork might tremble ever so slightly and alert me to the fact that a gray day like this was best for fishing and I’d better keep my wits about me.

Along about four in the afternoon I’d be ready to call it a day. I’d have a dozen fat trout by then. I’d walk over to the boss cow and shake the lead cow bell that hung from her neck. The others would gather round her and we’d head for home. There was an end of day blue haze in the air about us as we picked our way along the narrow path back to the barn. The cow’s udders were full and uncomfortable now and they walked gently. They would complain bitterly if I hurried them along.

But they’d complain anyway. Through the night in the dark blue blackness of the dairy barn they’d voice their grievances to each other and from my bedroom window I could hear them express their dissatisfaction with the young whippersnapper up there in his warm bed who would fish all day long and ignore them completely.
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We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[Harry]

The previous flash entry was submitted during the time the prompt was not available. Only the title "blue" was submitted.

[shadowlight]

This is such a nice, gentle piece, Harry. I enjoyed your use of color and the glimpse into a simpler time of life. Loved it! (And I apologize for the delay...two birthdays, other things and real life got in the way of writing to the 500 club.)

God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[shadowlight]

Here's mine. Very rough free-write. Trying to get the creative juices flowing again. God bless and sorry for the delay.


Answering a Call (WC 500)
©Marlicia Fernandez 2-5-15


“It looks like we’ve interrupted something, Peg.”

Pegasus pushed off from the doorjamb and sauntered into the room. “What makes you say that, Tris?

“Food’s still on the table.” Tris shook his pale hair from his eyes and reached for the container in the middle of the table. “And what’s all this, some kind of experiment?”

“You probably shouldn’t touch anything until we know more,” Peg drawled.

Tris pulled back and grimaced. “It’s just moth, come plums, and a couple of old clocks.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” Pegasus crouched until his line of sight was even with the table. “Everything’s covered in dust. The clocks need winding…if they work at all…”

“But the food isn’t rotten and the moth…”

The insect fluttered within its container.

“It’s still alive,” Tris continued. “We should let it out.”

“Not yet,” Peg hissed. “Look at all this stuff. Check out the lighting. Notice anything different about it?”

Tris shrugged. “Not really. It’s a bit dark, almost blue, but that’s nothing to worry about.”

“Not if its twilight, or dusk or even late evening…maybe. But it’s none of those things. It’s close to midday.” Pegasus rose and strode across the room. He pulled back the curtains to reveal the shuttered window. He slipped the latch and pulled. The shutters didn’t budge. He tried again, using more force. Nothing. “Maybe it’s nailed in place,” he murmured.

He felt rather than saw Tris join him.

“Find anything?”

Peg shook his head and turned to face him. “Something’s not right here. We should leave.”

“You’re starting to sound like an old woman,” Tris chuckled. “All doom and gloom and dire prophesies.”

“I’m a survivor,” Pegasus countered. “Being careful…being aware is how I survive.”

This time Tris laughed. “And that’s why I had to rescue you…because you know all about survival.”

“That was different. It’s difficult to plan for betrayal.”

A loud creaking filled the small space. Tris and Peg bolted across the room, reaching the door as it swung closed. Tris pulled at it. “Want to give me some help?”

“Why bother? We’re not leaving until we’re meant to leave.” Pegasus strode back to the table. “Something’s different now. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Tris joined him. “There’s more dust. Lots more.” He glanced at the insect suspended within its container. “The moth’s dying.”

“Release it,” Peg said.

“But you said…”

“Never mind that. This little moth might be important now.” Pegaus put one hand on the jar. “On three?”

Tris nodded.

“One, two, three…”

Bright light dispelled the shadows, nearly blinding them. “Cover your eyes,” Peg shouted.

“A bit late for that…”

“Tris...”

“They’re closed.”

After what seemed like an eternity a soft voice filled the room. “You can look now.”

“Go ahead, Peg,” Tris said. “You’re won’t believe this.”

He opened his eyes. Gaped. Where did she come from?

The girl smiled. “I’m Issy. Thank you for freeing me. But now we must hurry. There is so much to do and so little time.

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Harry]

One must believe the inadequacy of clocks in a time that admits to being neither day nor night. One must see the logic in freeing a female moth that is
trapped in a bottle - how she got there and why there is so much to do and so little time to do it in. Why the visitors cannot leave until they are meant to leave and why the time of day is improbable due to the color of what we see before us. All we know is the improbability of the mis-en-scene. But all that is enough to know that Marlicia is alive, well and functioning in her diabolical quest for the holy grail of make-believe.

[shadowlight]

Thanks for taking the time to read and to comment, Harry. I really appreciate it. The story is unclear to me at the moment, but I think you're right, it is somewhere in the middle. I'm actually intrigued by what's going on. I'm hoping this will help me to get the writing to flow a little more consistently.

God bless and thanks again.
Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.