Tuesday, October 04, 2016

I thank to gentle readers that dropped a quiet line on the blog or a like for no reason otter than to welcome me back to the world of short living.

I should have added, when talking of how many states visited, that I have visited all the provinces of Canada except for that silly island way up north and west of Hudson Bay I actually achieved that by accident, the military saw to one or two, or three of those.

(fiction)

Two

Two showed up a long while after that slash opened in the sky. A long while.

I’d been messing about the barn, feeding, cleaning stalls and generally making sure the stock was comfortable in the winter weather, which was bad cold with goodly winds and hard kernels of snow striking like buckshot.

Finished the self imposed chores me and dog got out to the open and I plopped down on the stool in the lee side of the door. Dog sat himself down about ten feet away watching me for a clue as to what next.

I sat there for a bit with something nagging  at my mind only gradually becoming aware of a dark figure off in the distance, approaching.

The figure looked tall and swung along like it was a summer day rather than a winter storm was settling in. I thought, watching the approach, that the figure was mis-happened in aspect, but it resolved itself, when it turned down the drive, into a tall person wearing a skirt , with shawl, and a large back pack, and wearing sandals.

Yeah. Sandals. No socks.

It proved to be a she as she passed the house and continued toward the barn.I hadn’t moved, nor had dog. We just watched.

She came toward me, stopping about three feet away,  without speaking and examined me rather closely.

She spoke: :You’re . . . “ using my name.

“I am.” I spoke in answer. “And yours?”

She stood there for some time as the snow piled up in her hair and drifted around her ankles, then she dropped to her knees in front of me, holding out her hands in a cupping position and spoke some of the trite-ist words I’ve heard outside fantasy porn:

“I am yours;” she said, “Heart and Mind, Body and Soul. I am yours. You own me.”

She went silent.

That nagging in the back of my mind prompted  me to reach out into the area to my right and open a slash of space of my own. I reached in and pulled out a broad blade two edged dagger and presented to the woman in front of me.

She grasped the blade with both hands and, with blood dripping down her wrists, repeated the words she said..

I leaned forward and closed my hands about hers, and spoke my words: “I accept ownership and vow to use you to purpose and benefit. Never to mis-use, or abuse the tool but to use it as required within its designed function. “

The bleeding of her hands stopped, the dagger which had taken on aglow and turned dull. I put the thing back into the open space I had created, Grasped her hands and raised her from her knees.

“What,” I asked, “is your name.”

“I have no name,” she said, “until you give me one.”

“I see.” I said. “Your name is Two.”

“Too?”

“No. Like the number.”

“Two?”

“Yes.”

“But, Master, aren’t there going to be three of us, Is there another here already?”

“Wife,” I said, “no other is here as now, you are Two.”

As we turned toward the house she spoke again; “Master?”

“Yes, Two.”

“That’s an awfully small house.”

I sighed. Less than five minutes.

Sigh

_________

From the reaches,

Ten  Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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