On Wednesday’s, Delores, from Under The Porch Light, has a meme which she calls
“Words for Wednesday”.
She puts up a selection of six words which we then use in a short story, or a poem.
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?
This week's words are:
and just to make things more interesting, Delores has given us six extra words to use if we wish, in another story, or in the same story.
Here is my story:
Robert gripped the handles of the old stump-jump plough, sweating profusely as he bumped along behind the plump rump of Millie, the gentle old Clydesdale. He thought about those new-fangled tractor machines some of the neighbours had now. "Plough your field in half the time", they all said. Robert didn't think much of that idea. What would he do with half a day and nothing to fill it with? Barney over at The Dams had taken to spending several hours a day at the pub, while his Missus, Jean, "shopped". Robert snorted. Huh, shopping! What could she possibly be buying every day of the week? How many 25 pound sacks of flour and sugar does one kitchen need?
No, Robert preferred the slow way of his work, the way each task led naturally into the next, the days slipping along like syrup. Feeding the chickens led to gathering eggs, which led to scrambling a couple for breakfast, then Shirley would stir a couple into the batter that would become their afternoon tea cakes. Yes, the old way was best for Robert and Shirley.
He stumped along behind Millie, glancing at the sky, inclement weather was on the way, he could tell by the static in the air, always a precursor to thunder and lightning storms, electrical they called them now, often followed by heavy rains and wild winds.
Across the field he could hear the steady thump of the heavy barn doors as Shirley herded the chickens and cow inside to be safe from the storm. The pig was already penned in there and squealing against the change in atmosphere. "Sensitive little bugger," thought Robert, "always knows." The pig's squealing earlier this morning had alerted them, they'd come out on to the porch to feel the air was alive with electricity and had the peculiar yellow tint that always preceded a lightning storm.
As he shook another clump of mud off his boot, Robert glimpsed the first flicker of lightning above the hill behind the dam. No thunder yet, but he urged old Millie on, these things moved fast, they were racing against time now. Millie turned the final furrow and headed for home. She knew the barn was the safest place to be in a storm. Parking the plough and settling Millie with a bucket of oats only took a few minutes, then Robert headed for the house, noticing along the way that Shirley had primed the generator in case they needed it later.
He dumped his boots and hat in the "wet" room, then ambled into the big, warm kitchen, where Shirley had mugs of hot tea waiting alongside slices of freshly cut bread and plenty of yesterday's mutton piled on plates. "Going to be a rough one Shirl," he said. "Lightning's already showing above the dam, should hear thunder any minute now."
Shirley smiled and gave him a hug. "Nothing to worry about love," she said, "we're safe inside, all the animals are in the barn and there's plenty of wood for the stove. I've got a nice beef stew going for dinner and an apple pie in the oven. Sit down and eat your lunch now."
She bustled about pouring more tea and setting the sugar bowl closer to Robert as the rumble of thunder began overhead. They both glanced out the window in time to see a sheet of lightning light up the landscape. The storm was moving faster now, they were glad to be warm and dry inside.