Tag Archives: odd sounds

Short Story Attempt #3

The stars hanging above her head made her feel smaller than small.  They made her feel as if she were nothing at all.  She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, pulling tightly at the drawstring.  Wishing that the night breeze would go away or that she had brought her coffee outside with her.

She balanced her head back on the edge of the lawn chair, looking back up at brightly dotted sky.  Wondering what the moon thought about all of those stars.  She closed her eyes tightly, squishing out the day as completely as she could. 

She felt alone in a different world, this darkness, it wasn’t the same place by day.  Alone and surrounded by hundreds of chirping tree frogs, a distant owl, a howl, sounds she couldn’t even label, all closing in on her.

And she welcomed it. 

Her thoughts danced on the wings of a bat overhead.  She said something terribly wrong, just moments ago, something she couldn’t pick out, but something that sent him storming off in a fit of rage, doors slamming behind him.  A single tear ran down her cheek, as she tried to clench the hurt away through her teeth. 

Maybe this would be the time, that moment when he would finally give up.  Maybe this was that one single thing that would push him over the edge.  Something she couldn’t even remember.  She forced her eyes back open to the damnation from those stars, and stared hard, looking for an answer.

The stars stared back, mocking her. 

What was she supposed to do?  Go in and beg for forgiveness?  Forgiveness for what?  She always is the sorry one, maybe this time she should stand her grounds.  But it killed every inch of her soul to let the sun set on a fight with him.  But shouldn’t he back down for once?  And what was she going to do, sit out here all night crying with the stars, shivering from the wind, and picking june bugs off her clothes?  It was killing every inch of her soul.  She sniffled, wiping at her eyes, switching her focus back to the moon.

Maybe it was all over.

Her core trembled with the thought, she could feel the shattering of her heart.  Her eyes tightly closed.

“Hey.”  Her heart jumped to his voice, her palms instantly sweating.

She opened her eyes, and turned towards him.  Towards his outstretched hand, reaching for her.  Begging for her.  The hands that felt as though they could protect her from anything the world could conger up.  He blotted at a tear on her cheek with his thumb, so strong yet gentle, pulling her up from the chair. 

“I’m sorry.”  He whispered, honest but still proud.  And she didn’t care what it sounded like. 

She followed him back inside, eager to sleep in his warm embrace, turning once, looking back at the moon, whispering, “Thank You.”

Tails of the Moosen Goosen

This morning I headed out to tend to the 4 legged minions, when I noticed the goat cautiously staring off into the wilderness.

one of the minions and a goat

Then as I as watching her (because we all know goats are the best alert system in the world, seriously) I heard it.  The sound, echoing off the hills, reaching into my core.  Words can barely describe the call from somewhere on my land.  But if I were to try to describe it, and I am, I would say it was the call of a moosen goosen… a cross between a moose in rut, and a goose with a microphone.  But moosen don’t dwell in these parts, all though my son swears they do and I haven’t recalled installing a sound system on our land lately…

Again and again I heard the gut wrenching cries of the beast, and feared for the worst.  I quickly wrangled the canine minions to safety, rolling on the hard earth trying to hold them back, I could only imagine canines to be a moosen goosen’s choice meal after all. 

Then I quickly called my best experts on creatures like the moosen goosen.  I shouted into the phone, “It’s out there, somewhere… what do I do?!”

It's Out THERE, somewhere....

They shrugged off my ideas, and spouted their guesses, “It’s a crow, a cow, a dear, the boogie man, a fox or a Bear!”

I dressed up, or it is down?  to my knee-high snake proof muck boots, my holy jeans, a reuger tucked into the back waistline of my jeans, grabbed an axe, a rope and a cup of coffee.  My plan?  To not get eaten by the moosen goosen.  I ventured out carefully step by step, rattled by the continuing cries, wiping the sweat off of my brow.  Over deadly snake pits I crossed, carefully watching for any signs of the beast… For a moment I contemplated climbing up a 30 foot deer stand… but yeah, heights and me Do Not Mix. 

And then, then….

The human minions awoke, spoiling all my fun.

As I ventured back to safety hawks began to circle over head… a sign?  Perhaps.

The sounds have since halted, but soon the wee ones will be tucked safely back in bed, and I’ll be pulling on my boots once more… maybe.

Afterall half the fun of a moosen goosen is in the mystery of the beast…

To be continued…