The Farmer
Today’s post was made possible by the help of my good friend KG. Hoping all of you are staying cool and hydrated and safe!
The Farmer
The farmer’s spade lay forgotten in the dirt.
His footprints lead away from the vegetable patch, back towards town. The half turned row lay abandoned, stopped a few feet short of its destination at a gaping hole broken in the soil. Even the tender plants that the farmer had thinned from the seedling crop, which could have been plunged back into the soft earth to grow more food for autumn, were left behind to wither in the sun.
The town bell rang out with an insistent clamor that drew people running from their cottages. Mothers wrapped shawls around their startled infants, old men struggled to straighten their backs as they hobbled forth.
It was the farmer who rang the bell, his hands still caked in dirt up to the elbow, hauling the bell pull with all his might.
The matriarch, long hair white from the passing of many winters, reached the farmer first. She laid a hand on his shoulder and stilled his panicked movements. The bell settled, silence reclaiming its usual place over the village.
The matriarch pulled the farmer towards her, a hand on each shoulder, shaking him as though sense would fall from his mouth like ripe apples, but the farmer couldn’t be subdued. He pointed frantically- there, on the ground. He knelt and picked the object up, heavy and still caked in dirt, freshly birthed from the dark earth.
The silence grew stifling; the growing crowd of onlookers dared not move, not even to breathe. The youngest amongst them curled back into the protection of their parents' bodies. The matriarch bent and looked, brushing away the dirt. Then she straightened, her eyes closed against the shock of realization.
After a moment of deliberation, she lifted one arm, slow as if the labor of it pained her, and straightening a bony finger, indicated the long dark wilderness to the west.
“GO.”
The villagers drew back, shuffling with barely bridled panic before scurrying back to their cottages as fast as they were able. The matriarch stood her ground amidst the chaos, her voice thundering around them to give warning. The farmer, still on his knees, offered her the object, begging, pleading. She backed away, arm still raised, steady as if wrought of iron.
“GO.”
The foundations of the village were built long ago, longer than anyone could remember. Even the elders knew the location of their father’s, grandfather’s, and great grandfather’s graves. It was a good place, with sweet water and fertile earth; they were happy there. But to barter a living from nature year after year did not come without a cost. Each and every one of them, the matriarch included, knew the duty that bound them, to each other and their benefactor. When it came time to fulfill their part, they did not argue.
So the farmer fled, his burden held tightly to his chest, down the dirt track towards the wilderness beyond.
Only four figures remained to witness his flight. The matriarch and the farmer’s family watched breathless as he disappeared, away and away, until only his silhouette was visible on the horizon. His shadow hovered over the crest of the hills for one last brief moment before winking out for good.
Only the matriarch knew what the future would bring, but she did not speak. As the winds rolled in, laden with boiling black clouds from the sea, she turned the remaining villagers back to the shelter of the town and bid them to prepare for the coming storm.
Thank you for reading!
-Astrid
Editing and emotional support by KG
You sure know how to build suspense!