Fiction

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So I have been trying to get my head around the idea of writing some fiction for this blog, but I just can’t seem to get it in gear. I guess the main reason is I just don’t feel compelled to write anything that isn’t true. Also I have been thinking lately that it is somewhat condescending to subject you to some made up drivel that I profess to be highly fascinating and entertaining enough to post here. Who the fuck am I to take it upon myself to spin some yarn that will immerse you into a world that picks you up and carries you away, transforming you into a tiny babe in the arms of the mysterious and all-powerful story master. Then at the last minute I thought, oh what the hell…

The boy stood on the hill. He pulled at his shorts from the crotch and adjusted the bunch of his overstretched underwear until it escaped the crack of his ass and fell comfortably back over his cheeks. The top of the hill was small and pointed. There wasn’t that much to do now that he was up top. The wind pushed the long grass with large invisible hands. It moved it back and forth in a random-less pattern and in between pushed at his face and hair. It carried away the cries of his sister tangled somewhere in the grass below. She had been left behind against her will. 

He would get her on the way back and drag her home by one thin rubbery arm. Her sneakered feet tripping over themselves and kicking up dust as she whimpered on and off in protest. It didn’t matter what he did with her, she was rarely happy. She was what he decided, just born cranky. She was their favourite and he was her unwilling caretaker, extorted into caring for her and taking her along. In a perfect world he may have invited her as there was no one else around to accompany him anyways. On most days it was just the two of them dropped deep into the extending farmland surrounding them with insects and tall crops of wheatgrass and corn.

The hill was a good place. She was too young to make it up and he always left her at the bottom after promising to, this time, bring her to the summit. Sometime she fought her hardest to try and climb with him but if she did he would usually push her back causing her to fall and skin a knee or elbow. The rich earth would cloud up around her and stick to the sweat of her brow and neck, cling to the clear mucus below her nose.

Mom would dump her into an unforgivingly hot bath and throw a sponge at her, then get back to her cigarettes and coffee.

The boy looked out over the fields and up into the sun. The moment was freedom to him. These summer days fading in and out around each other all running together. The hill the same every time he conquered it. He would soon return to his sister at the bottom once he grew bored of his solstice or could no longer tolerate the growing guilt for abandoning her. Did he push her a little to hard this time? She got back up before he left her. She was tougher that she looked. Besides, the dog always stayed with her, in between following through on the scent of a groundhog or two.

He pulled at a few stems of grass until they popped off and he turned them upside down to nip the tender light green shoots from where they had been separated from the stems – it was something his grandfather had taught him. Something he had seen him do while waiting for the cows to come up the hill to be escorted into the barn to get milked.

Some days at the neighbouring farm he and grandfather would head to the back of the barn to call the cows up and out of the pastures in the late afternoon. “CO BOOSS, CO BOOSS was the call and when it was yelled loud enough they would emerge from the trees and amble up to them, like zombies loping towards a car alarm. The boy never knew why the call was co-boss, his grandfather didn’t know either. It just was what they did, what grandfathers father did too.

In the faint distance the boy could hear her and the droning bark of the dog. it was as subtle a sound as the breathing of a kitten under the strength of the wind, but it was there. The boy arched his back and spun away from the sun. He tossed the spent stems of grass to one side and started to descend back down the hill. It was time to head home anyways.

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