The Death Farmer
By Theresa C. Newbill
Part four of nine
During the ride home Alan Parker and Mitchell exchange jokes through licks of chocolate ice-cream while Kevin rides quietly in the back seat. The range-rover doesn't seem to mind the sudden weather change as heavy rain begins to fall making visibility an almost impossibility. Through the mauve decline of bluebirds, butterflies and fireflies, the faint sounds of drums are heard. The beat is habitual, ritual, through the swells of rhythms, which are getting louder and clearer. Behind the thick orchards that line the roadway, a black cat darts out into traffic. Alan Parker swerves violently before slamming on the brakes, coming to rest on the side of the road. Everyone is buckled in and no harm comes to the Parker family. The rattling noise of drums continues, bristling around the car. From the rear view mirror Alan Parker sees old woman Clara cuddling her cat before she disappears into a luminous purple wind. He feels her energy swoon inside his head with bloody blows that leave him nauseous from the migraine. Sometimes the geography of a place holds its hands so far from one's breast, that it pushes you away in defense. That is how Alan feels every time he passes past old Clara's place, past the place so close to his former estate where one evening ended in total devastation.
"Are you okay, dad? Kevin are you okay?" Mitchell asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Dad?" Kevin enquires.
"I'm fine, just tired. That damn cat is always roaming around here darting in and out of traffic. Old Clara should put him down before someone else does." Alan replies.
"Ah dad. Rowan's a good kitty. And Old Clara, well, she's good to Kevin and me. When she sees us, she always offers us some lemonade and a warm hug." Mitchell says.
"Yeah, Rowan's a good kitty. A good kitty filled with night kills and vindictiveness, " Kevin replies with brief laughter as he stares at this father mockingly.
- - -
Theresa C. Newbill is a is a self described free spirit and former elementary school teacher turned writer. Her work has been widely published in various print and online magazines and she has received numerous awards for her writing.
By Theresa C. Newbill
Part four of nine
During the ride home Alan Parker and Mitchell exchange jokes through licks of chocolate ice-cream while Kevin rides quietly in the back seat. The range-rover doesn't seem to mind the sudden weather change as heavy rain begins to fall making visibility an almost impossibility. Through the mauve decline of bluebirds, butterflies and fireflies, the faint sounds of drums are heard. The beat is habitual, ritual, through the swells of rhythms, which are getting louder and clearer. Behind the thick orchards that line the roadway, a black cat darts out into traffic. Alan Parker swerves violently before slamming on the brakes, coming to rest on the side of the road. Everyone is buckled in and no harm comes to the Parker family. The rattling noise of drums continues, bristling around the car. From the rear view mirror Alan Parker sees old woman Clara cuddling her cat before she disappears into a luminous purple wind. He feels her energy swoon inside his head with bloody blows that leave him nauseous from the migraine. Sometimes the geography of a place holds its hands so far from one's breast, that it pushes you away in defense. That is how Alan feels every time he passes past old Clara's place, past the place so close to his former estate where one evening ended in total devastation.
"Are you okay, dad? Kevin are you okay?" Mitchell asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Dad?" Kevin enquires.
"I'm fine, just tired. That damn cat is always roaming around here darting in and out of traffic. Old Clara should put him down before someone else does." Alan replies.
"Ah dad. Rowan's a good kitty. And Old Clara, well, she's good to Kevin and me. When she sees us, she always offers us some lemonade and a warm hug." Mitchell says.
"Yeah, Rowan's a good kitty. A good kitty filled with night kills and vindictiveness, " Kevin replies with brief laughter as he stares at this father mockingly.
- - -
Theresa C. Newbill is a is a self described free spirit and former elementary school teacher turned writer. Her work has been widely published in various print and online magazines and she has received numerous awards for her writing.
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