Name: Cheryl Eastern Ky Truth should be everpresent.
Nap, that is an eery thought.
Great story, Sharon. Here is a cajun version.
The moon was weak, being young in it's cycle. It gave little light but that was of no consequence. The hunter was like a wild animal after a lifetime spent on the swamps and bayous therefore a fresh battery for the flood light was all the insurance that would be needed. She was on the hunt and it was a sure thing that the kitchen would be full of the smell of goose jambalaya tomorrow.
Some might think her a fish out of water hunting in the mountains now but her prowess trancended terrain. She inched along the bank of the lake making sure the ranger had taken his last look around and was now sound asleep in the warm cab of his truck. He was so soft compared to the agents who prowled among the palm meadow and lily pads to make their living in the south Louisiana wonderland.
Up ahead, in the shadows, lay her prey. Oblivious to her approach with it's head tucked safely beneath it's massive wing, the picture of tranquility. The goose did not hear her approach and the fate of the beautiful bird was sealed.
The hunter's hand snaked out with blurring speed, grabbed the slender neck, and with an expertise gained only by lifelong experience, the bird was jerked into the air where it's own weight was used against it. Seconds later it lay upon the rocky shore, it's lifeless body at an acute angle from it's beautiful head. It would never fly again against the clear blue sky. Never fill the air with it's mournful honking. Never again threaten an innocent child fishing on the lakeshore.
The hunter stuffed the unlucky goose into her backpack and made her way back through the parking lot. Yes, the ranger was still sound asleep and when the morning sun broke over the trees at the far end of the lake, he would be none the wiser of what had unfolded among the shadows on the rocky shore. The spirit of the swamper had prevailed.
That was absolutely gorgeous, Cheryl. Just truly the best. I love it!
What a great start to this day. And what fun!
Let's do another one sometime and you pick the topic. This one just sort of wrote itself for both of us, I think, thanks to your earlier post about wringing necks not being illegal nor is it a part of periodic hunting seasons. I love what it turned into.
June, Nap . . . maybe you'd like to join in?
Cheryl I was thinking of the lake near you, maybe at Jenny Wiley or somewhere in that area. Can't remember for sure. It's been a long time since I trekked that area up your way. I could have better described it if I had been talking about those nearer to Whitesburg, the one at Jenkins or the larger one at Hindman.
Let's do another one, yes. I love yours.
Maybe next time you write in Cajun and I'll write in Letcher County Mountan talk, OK?
June has traveled so much she could write in any sound and Nap with her NE sound would be fun too. The phrasing would also make a difference. If Cheryl writes much more and if in Cajun speak, I could write in Cajun too. My dearest step-MIL was pure Cajun and I loved her till she took her last breath. I still have a gold/tiny diamond ring she gave me. Cheryl, she called my daughter her little black-eyed Coon a$$. It's been a while and I've forgotten the rhythm of her words. I would love hearing that sound again. She would have made that goose into the very best gumbo, the part that was leftover from her Sunday dinner.
June, how close are you to getting back to your real home? Soon I hope.
And Cheryl, will your little boys be there again this summer? I hope so. I know they aren't little anymore. Is Steve OK?
So glad you resurrected this thread . This is fun and almost private.
I'm afraid I'm not a writer, Sharon. I've joined in before, but was never satisfied with my contribution.
I have to say, Cheryl, that you are very talented! Your writing ability is of professional quality, in my opinion. You choose ideas and words that fit together perfectly. I had fun reading this and I would love to read more from you. Do you have anything else in this Writers cubit or any other?
I love this Cubit and all that's in it, too. I hated for it to go dormant so I had Dave lump some of the forums and threads together and stored it away until somebody found it and contributed. That worked well since Cheryl found it and opened its doors again. That's what I wanted to happen.
Cheryl does write beautifully, that's why I hoped she would grab the opportunity and run with it in the goose topic.
June, see the little block above this one, see where it says 'Writing cubit homepage'. Click on that and it will take you to some choices, one of which is the Attic, I think. In the attic I've stored lots of reading material and there might be something you haven't read there. Anyway that one click and the 4 others that follow will take you all over this Cubit and you will find other stories.
It's been dormant so long I thought it would never wake again, but along came Cheryl and here we are.
Name: Cheryl Eastern Ky Truth should be everpresent.
Gertrude wasn't feeling too good about herself as of late. Being different was hard.
She was the only Holstien cow on a dairy full of Jerseys. To be sure, she was a perfect Holstien, from the top of her knobby polled head to the snow white switch of her tail. And, mercy, could she put out the milk! Her massive, pendulous udder would have been envied by all the other Holstiens... if there had been any other Holstiens at the dairy. But Gertrude was alone in a sea of beige.
The visitors to the dairy didn't help her cause. All the visitors oohed and aahed over the cute little Jerseys with their big, doe eyes. "Don't get too close to that big black and white one.", teachers warned their students. "It might step on you." It made Gertrude want to step on the teachers. She wasn't a big, clumsy sod. She wanted to be oohed and aahed over too. She wanted little Suzy to gently rub the soft hairs between her eyes too. When the teacher recited "The Cow Jumped Over the Moon", Gertrude could just bet it wasn't a Holstien doing the high flying act. More than likely it was a Jersey.
It was true enough that Gertrude gave twice as much milk as any of the Jerseys but the farmer even took the fun out of that. He always made her wait until last to be milked. He'd give her a hard slap on the rump and sneer, "Topped the tank off again, Big Gertie!" It was hardly a compliment the way he said it.
Gertrude sighed and plodded slowly out of the milking parlor on her way back to the pasture. She'd try to find a dark corner to herself and get a good night's sleep. Maybe she'd feel better about things in the morning.
What was that?! Surely it was a scream. But who, and where did it come from? Gertrude stood still and peered through the gathering dusk. There it was again. All of a sudden the door to the privy flew open and the farmer came stumbling out, screamin' like a little girl. He was swattin' at something around his head and Gertrude realized he had upset a wasp nest. The big, red wasps were puttin' the fear of God in the old chap and he was trying his best to put some distance between himself and the swarm of angry, winged beasts. He wasn't making too good a job of it with his pants around his ankles, bless his heart.
It was inevitable. He tripped on his pants and landed face first on the
ground with his bare behind in the air. And Gertrude saw her chance to make history. She rumbled toward him at top Holstien speed, aimed herself at his bare bottom and launched herself into the air. She felt the cool night air rushing past her ears as she sailed up and over the farmer. She missed him by inches and came back to earth with a heavy thud. She looked back at the farmer still huddled on the ground and shook her head at an angry wasp who ventured her way. Gertrude walked off with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. She was imagining the look on the Jersey's faces when she told them how the Holstein had jumped over the moon.
I swear I had forgotten this one, it sure gave me a great big laugh tonight. I love that, Cajun, just love it. Thank you. Poetry should be on the poetry thread. I'll take a look. I love it!!!!! Thank you again!
News of a heart attack/stroke that hit my good cousin friend the past two or three days sort of got me off track tonight. She's doing well but in Lexington so it isn't easy for me to get there. It's that genetic heart thing that comes to us through our paternal sides. I just hope she does as well as I have done. Instead of the cardiac arrest that came 2 days after my heart attack, she had a mild stroke on the third day. Weird how it happened suddenly to both of us. She posted just a few minutes ago from the hospital and says she's doing so much better.