~Each Side of Dawn~

By WordWulf, 22nd Feb 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/28eqg_o6/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

~It weighs hundreds of pounds, the bawling creature~it is her chosen task to mother it~she imagines herself a ranch witch feeding a motherless dragon~death is a new wind~a chilling reminder~ashes strewn by the Zephyr~

~Each Side of Dawn~

Dawn has nothing to do with it. It is the nature of the woman to sleep. Coffee cup warm against her lips, she looks through the dark square of window where soon morning will appear. The cards are on the table. He visited her in a dream, told her to go ahead and pick them up. She sips her coffee and shakes her head. Her lips make a single word, “No.” His cow-dog nudges her with its nose. “Oh, Charley.” She gets up from her chair, opens the kitchen door and he goes barking ‘cross the yard.

She daydreams a bit, lonely and satisfied with her chosen space. At the sound of Charley’s nearer voice, she rises and goes to the sink. Her hands attend the busy work by themselves as her mood invites introspection. “I’m too old to be a ranch wife.” She is shocked by the sound of her own voice. Her mind joins her hands at work

The calf is bellowing in octaves... “Mother!” like one of the eight of her children, all grown and gone away. Its Mother song calls... its hunger song. “Charley, stop it!” She swats at the dog she would never strike. Having herded the calf, Charley now attempts to herd her as she steps into the yard in the dark, in the still dark of morning.

She hears the man-voice she will hear no more. “Charley, leave her alone! Get in here now!” A sad smile reaches her lips as the maverick calf, the motherless thing , makes its feeding sounds, suckles the rubber nipple held sure by her hands. ‘They purr like giant cats,’ she thinks ‘and cry like wounded children.’

The bottle is empty. She pulls it out with a thwop. The calf bellows, “moo-aw.” “That’s all for now, Blueberry.” She places her free hand on the calf’s broad forehead, hides the empty bottle behind her back, pushes him gently away.

As she turns to go in, the Sun peaks over the horizon. A single ray of purple light gives itself over to her eye. “I know, I know,” she murmurs, “I am a widow now.” She returns to the kitchen, gathers his cards from the table. “And I don’t play cards.”

The square patch of lawn he planted for her is brown, the Wyoming drought, his ashes lain fresh upon it. She damns herself her wishes, to finally be left alone. A twinkle of life in her eye, dawn has nothing to do with it.

~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~It Is About~
~Eyes O’ Wonder/Line of Sight~
~Eagle Bumps/One-Step Men~

Meet the author

WordWulf
Tom Sterner lives in Redding, California and Arvada, Colorado with wife Kathy. He has been published in numerous magazines and on the internet, including Howling Dog Press/Omega, Skyline Literary Review, The Storyteller, and Flashquake. His interne...(more)