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Windswept Symphony {Luan & Caleb}
Oct 1, 2019 20:42:01 GMT -5
Post by D'Arcy Mason d6b [Tyler] on Oct 1, 2019 20:42:01 GMT -5
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LUAN BRAITHE
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They say your ghosts haunt you worst at the times when you feel you've finally exorcised them from your mind. Today, that rang true for Luan.
The lazy autumn morning was nothing too special. Luan left to go to work in the farm early, the brisk morning winds swirling around him, carrying the reds and oranges and yellows of the leaves that marked the ending of summer and warned of a winter to come. The deep grey clouds in the distance marked the departure of the prior night's rainfall. Luan smiled to himself. The rain was good news for the farm; he could hope to see raised spirits when he arrived.
And raised they were; as Luan walked up to the great old barn he noticed everyone moving with an extra kick in their step. Even the Peacekeepers that kept a close eye on everyone working seemed more lax than usual. There was no time for Luan to soak in the happiness; soon he was busy at work tending to the animals.
Luan let his mind wander as he made his way to the chicken coop. Autumn had always been his favourite time of the year. The break in the summer heat, the changing colours all around him, the celebrations of harvest season among family and friends. It was a time to enjoy the successes of the past year and reflect on the hardships that had been overcome.
Winter, however, was a different story. Luan didn't like winters much anymore.
Ignoring the angry clucking of hens, Luan collected the day's haul of eggs and began making his way back to the main barn building when he saw other workers running to the cows' barn. His heart plummeted as he saw looks of concern plastered on some of their faces. Quickly, he handed off the eggs to a worker in the main barn and ran over to see what was causing such a fuss.
One of the cows had given birth, but the calf was in rough shape. Luan saw it laying in the hay by its mother. It barely moved; the only signs of life were the quick rising and falling of its chest and the accompanying clouds of breath that hung in the brisk morning air. It was clear that this was an animal desperately holding onto life.
Luan was faintly aware of some hurried speech from the other workers calling for someone to get a vet as fast as they could, accompanied by some quick moving and running around as people heeded the instructions. Then Luan's world began to swim before his eyes as his breathing became more and more panicked. The space was too tight; he needed to get out of there, he needed to breathe. He stumbled out of the barn and took a moment to sit and calm down. But the damage was done; the sight of the calf had awoken the ghosts he had tried so hard to bury. And now his mind was full of a night a few winters ago, with a different sick calf, and a deadly outcome.
Luan's older brother Arno barges into the house filled with anger. Their mother, face reflecting the shock she felt at her son's outburst, asks what was wrong. Arno begins a rant about a sick calf at work; how he spent the day nursing it to health, how its condition had been improving all day, how it was about to be all for nothing as he was certain it would die during the night. He insists that he has to go back. His father tries to calm him, remind him that death is not uncommon on a farm. His mother pleads with him that if the Peacekeepers want him at home he needs to obey. Luan says nothing. Arno ignores the words of his parents as he makes for the door. They call out to him to stop. Luan still says nothing. As Arno leaves, he utters the final words Luan ever hears his brother say.
"I have to do what's right!"
It had been three years since then, yet Luan felt like he was reliving that moment all over again. His brother had died trying to tend to a calf doomed to die. Because he had felt it was the right thing to do.
How Luan ached to go back and say something, anything, to try and change his brother's mind.
He had to compose himself. He hadn't meant to let his fears, his regrets, shake him so strongly. He absolutely didn't want anyone to see him in such a weak state. He turned to see a young man standing watching him. The vet had arrived. And he probably just saw Luan cowering on the ground, shaking and sweating. Damn. Luan felt embarrassed for his display of weakness. He turned to the boy with an apology on his lips.
"Sorry, didn't mean for you to see that. Are you here to look at the new calf?"
The lazy autumn morning was nothing too special. Luan left to go to work in the farm early, the brisk morning winds swirling around him, carrying the reds and oranges and yellows of the leaves that marked the ending of summer and warned of a winter to come. The deep grey clouds in the distance marked the departure of the prior night's rainfall. Luan smiled to himself. The rain was good news for the farm; he could hope to see raised spirits when he arrived.
And raised they were; as Luan walked up to the great old barn he noticed everyone moving with an extra kick in their step. Even the Peacekeepers that kept a close eye on everyone working seemed more lax than usual. There was no time for Luan to soak in the happiness; soon he was busy at work tending to the animals.
Luan let his mind wander as he made his way to the chicken coop. Autumn had always been his favourite time of the year. The break in the summer heat, the changing colours all around him, the celebrations of harvest season among family and friends. It was a time to enjoy the successes of the past year and reflect on the hardships that had been overcome.
Winter, however, was a different story. Luan didn't like winters much anymore.
Ignoring the angry clucking of hens, Luan collected the day's haul of eggs and began making his way back to the main barn building when he saw other workers running to the cows' barn. His heart plummeted as he saw looks of concern plastered on some of their faces. Quickly, he handed off the eggs to a worker in the main barn and ran over to see what was causing such a fuss.
One of the cows had given birth, but the calf was in rough shape. Luan saw it laying in the hay by its mother. It barely moved; the only signs of life were the quick rising and falling of its chest and the accompanying clouds of breath that hung in the brisk morning air. It was clear that this was an animal desperately holding onto life.
Luan was faintly aware of some hurried speech from the other workers calling for someone to get a vet as fast as they could, accompanied by some quick moving and running around as people heeded the instructions. Then Luan's world began to swim before his eyes as his breathing became more and more panicked. The space was too tight; he needed to get out of there, he needed to breathe. He stumbled out of the barn and took a moment to sit and calm down. But the damage was done; the sight of the calf had awoken the ghosts he had tried so hard to bury. And now his mind was full of a night a few winters ago, with a different sick calf, and a deadly outcome.
Luan's older brother Arno barges into the house filled with anger. Their mother, face reflecting the shock she felt at her son's outburst, asks what was wrong. Arno begins a rant about a sick calf at work; how he spent the day nursing it to health, how its condition had been improving all day, how it was about to be all for nothing as he was certain it would die during the night. He insists that he has to go back. His father tries to calm him, remind him that death is not uncommon on a farm. His mother pleads with him that if the Peacekeepers want him at home he needs to obey. Luan says nothing. Arno ignores the words of his parents as he makes for the door. They call out to him to stop. Luan still says nothing. As Arno leaves, he utters the final words Luan ever hears his brother say.
"I have to do what's right!"
It had been three years since then, yet Luan felt like he was reliving that moment all over again. His brother had died trying to tend to a calf doomed to die. Because he had felt it was the right thing to do.
How Luan ached to go back and say something, anything, to try and change his brother's mind.
He had to compose himself. He hadn't meant to let his fears, his regrets, shake him so strongly. He absolutely didn't want anyone to see him in such a weak state. He turned to see a young man standing watching him. The vet had arrived. And he probably just saw Luan cowering on the ground, shaking and sweating. Damn. Luan felt embarrassed for his display of weakness. He turned to the boy with an apology on his lips.
"Sorry, didn't mean for you to see that. Are you here to look at the new calf?"
[WC: 822]
