Creative Writing: The Pines

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

I never knew the Smokies were so close to my grandparent’s retirement village. Every summer all the cousins jammed into Grandpa’s Ford for our jaunt up the mountains. But back then the hills had no name. They were recognized only by the pop of our ears and the pink silk trees bowing down to the highway. Since those days I have grown partial to any patch of grass with “National Park” tacked to its title. Today the mimosas still tossed their petals to traffic, and the truck remembered its ever-present perfume of damp golden retriever. But today we were going to The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. “Cade’s Cove, next left,” the road sign read, and two bikes bumped along on the car hitch.

Lionel Giverd was practicing his football one day on his team, and he suddenly landed on his arm he started to swear. He realized he would be in the cast for a while and he hoped he could make the team next year.

The Firn Elm community was a place where people come and went. I met a passerby and became pregnant. My husband thinks it's his child. He pampers me the whole nine months with gifts, candy, and flowers. He remodeled the den just for the baby. Once the baby was born he decides we were better off without it. I can't help but save my marriage there is only one thing I can do. If I let go of this carriage then everything will be exactly as it were before I became pregnant. I can't promise I won't do it again. It's a small community. I get lonely at times.

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” Born and raised in a box where everyone knows everyone means that there’s always “go to” places. As we grow out of cleats and place dolls in the attic, the giant wooden obstacles that you know every nook and cranny too are now just tired playgrounds filled with new children left to discover those hidden spots. The man made lakes that left the smell of sweet summer and chlorine lingering in your hair and skin are now rain puddles. Places from childhood form who we are and create everlasting friendships but over time, as the leaves change in the seasons so can we.

When you travel up the driveway, the property is invisible until you reach the crest of the hill and turn around a bank of evergreens. Suddenly you see an old farmhouse and a cottage with a large, scrubby lawn, a huge vegetable garden and a field of clover behind it all with the Skimmerhorn mountain range framing the back of the picture. If you’re lucky you may have startled some deer in the orchard that you probably didn’t notice driving by as you drank in the view. There is an openness but at the same time there are fir and tamarack trees, maple trees and Saskatoon shrubs marking off the border of seven acres of rural peace and quiet.

The sun held high in the cobalt, no clouds not even a slug of one hung in the sky to befriend the lonesome sun that blazed with life. Every thing was quiet and not in anyway unlike the day before it. Except for the agonizing screaming, that would make a choir cry, coming from the open field. There lay the King of Wolves, Alexander Ashworth , a small group of onlookers had gathered around him. Not one bent down to help.

I knew Esther and I were in the right class when you told about Kallie. I glanced over at my beautiful daughter sitting beside me, she has lived her entire 23 years in chronic pain.....she has cats, they sleep with her, they are her babies, these kitties have brought comfort to her over the years. I see her holding one of them at times with tears in her eyes. I see the comfort they give her. I teared up when you told your story about Kallie and I wondered if Esther was touched. She was.

“Sure. It’s simple. We’ll wade into battle and slaughter as many enemies as possible. And while we’re busy killing things, you sneak behind the battle lines into the castle

As hunters, Darrel and Peter had a job to do. They had to hunt anything ghostly, paranormal, or supernatural. Because they weren’t typical hunters, they were monster hunters. They have had many adventures, hunting werewolves, vampires, and they even killed demons. But their next adventure couldn’t compare to anything that they have ever faced before…

“I, the great Nag, am here because I want to rule the garden and kill you,” Nag responded.

"So what you are saying is that the old turkey needed to get laid?" Nia concluded, not understanding why people kept judging other people sexuality as if they had the right to. For her what people did in the bedroom was their own choice and if you need a donkey to get it on, it was between you, your partner and the donkey and as long as everyone was consenting then it was all good.

“Give me my kids back”, I could hear my uncle asserting from outside. My family and I were at my grandmother's house when I heard the doorbell ring. My 6 year old cousin stood on the other side of the door with the most terrified look. As I stood in the doorway, I asked her why she ran back to the door. She, her sister, and her dad had planned an afternoon at the museum center. She cautiously answered, “ I don’t know, Monica(my mom) told me too”. Puzzled, I let her inside and summoned my sister, Mackenzie, to wait with her while I ventured to the garage door to investigate why my mom sent my cousin running, to the front door. Outside, my grandmother and I heard my mom and my uncle in a dispute with my uncle's youngest, who was about three,

Behind her, Joan heard the whispers of several dozen voices, and those whispered swelled into chatter. She glanced over her shoulder to see many hundreds of people walking behind her, all there to offer support and farewells to the knights. It warmed her heart to see them, for it means she and her friends were not alone.

She had always had a rumbustious relationship with Phillip’s children and dreaded it ending. Josh was now well over six foot and broad too. He’d been trying to lift since he was about eight, and it had become part of their habitual greeting.