The old lady ignored
him, clipping herbs and trimming flowers in her garden, tucking them into the
large flat basked she carried each morning. She gently nudged a family of young
rabbits out of her way as she reached for the ripe lettuce, tearing off a leaf
for each of them before dropping them into the basket.
“Bob,” she said
firmly.
The stallion
reared and thrashed his head from side to side, threatening to spear her with
his long horn. She turned her back and snipped the rampant coneflower to brew
the seeds for a calming tea.
Her basket
filled, she looked around the meadow and spied a young goblin standing shyly
under a rosemary bush, hat in hand.
“Come, my young
friend. Is it time?” the old lady called in a friendly voice.
The goblin,
struck shy, twisted his hat in his hand and ran to her side, almost throwing a
bouquet of wildflowers into her basket.
“Why thank you,
my young friend. Let’s see now,” she put her hand to her chin and studied him
closely. “Yasuo. Yes, that’s it, absolutely.”
The goblin
beamed, his sharp teeth sticking out at alarming angles. He bowed low to the
old lady, and she nodded in reply. “Fare thee well, Yasuo. Greetings to your
father and mother,” she barely finished before he bolted across the meadow and
disappeared in the woods beyond.
The unicorn
snorted and stamped one again. The old lady picked up her basket and carried it
to the small cabin the nestled under a large oak at the edge of the meadow. She
held on to the railing and climbed the two steps to the front door. Without
turning, she sighed and said, “You can come again tomorrow. It will be the same
as it has always been, Bob.”
She went inside
before the unicorn could fully convey his displeasure with his name.
|
Dogs
in house
|
Houdini, Brindle
|
|
|
|
|
Time
writing:
|
45 minutes, distracted
|
|
|
|
|
August
word count:
|
1,348
|
No comments:
Post a Comment