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Array
(
[sid] => 13481
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => the cycle
[time] => 2003-02-27 23:40:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Sunday At The Farm
Sven had been up early tending to the animals usually his wife did that but it was Sunday her half day off. Sophie, an old scrawny little thing of the womanfolk, had milked and fed the cows. She had strong hands, dark eyes and the quick movement of a ferret never spoke to him since he as a colt more than thirty years ago, had tried to seduce her, his mild father had been so angry that he had hit him the slap still mystified him. People-shy she lived in the barn, but lately she had taken to shouting at nights something about the devil, Christ and her mother He had been thinking of replacing her with a younger maid, only Sophie had nowhere to go, she had been here long before he was born and no one knew where she came from, as a young girl she just showed up a summer’s day and stayed. Back in bed his wife waited for him… smiling, it had been such a long time since they made love. Awoke at ten, time to dress for church looked kindly at his wife and thought: the church is built to last forever and will still be there next Sunday. 25-76 Coming Home. On Christmas Eve at the cottage hospital in a small town a baby girl was born, when her mother disappeared next day a nurse gave her the name Sophie and handed her over to the orphanage. Sophie was an unusually quiet child, her movement quick and shy, eyes dark looking as seeking something far from where she was. When fourteen she was told her that her father was a farmer living in the west of the country and that her mother was dead, Sophie knew what she had to do to walk west, visit every farm till she found her father; quietly as always she disappeared from the orphanage and began walking. Farmers were kind to Sophie, this a half-wit, gave her food, she was a good worker, didn’t eat much and never fooled around with boys, only she didn’t stay long suddenly she was gone quickly as early morning shadow on a barn wall. Then, one a bright summer’s day walking to a farm asking for work, she finally met her father, he was slim, not sturdy like other country folks and he had dark eyes too. Sophie was sure, her quest over and she was full of gratitude. The farmer looked puzzled like he tried to remember something from his past but could not, yet he gave her work and Sophie stayed at last she was home. 25-77 Sophie’s Mother Helen, was a popular girl in the shady side of town she had seen the lustful, greedy faces of those who snubbed her in the day and despised them all. She had had many men but they meant nothing it was all for money, till the fateful day when she met this young farm boy in uniform, he was so soft, vulnerable and undemanding, to him she gave herself fully. A week of bliss and then he left, not that she had expected anything more. Later to her horror she found that she was pregnant and intuitively knew it could only be his. Her water broke while sitting in a bar, rushed to hospital and a baby girl were born. No she didn’t want to hold this new life in her arms fearful that she might love it and not let got, it was best that way she wasn’t made to be a mother. Next day she boarded a train for the big city and vanished into its vast slum quarter. In an abject room of a low life hotel a woman was found dead, on the floor beside the bed an empty bottle of pills and the picture of a nondescript young man in uniform. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 151 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Jan_Oskar_Hansen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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