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Courtney Miller

Cows are the easiest people to talk to. Except they aren’t people, and they don’t talk back. So, I suppose they are just the best listeners. The night the house burned, the cows were there in their prison of barbed wire losing their minds while the flames ripped apart everything from the front porch to the attic. It was odd seeing the cows like that. They are lazy creatures. The only time they ever ran was when Pa brought the tractor out with a new bale of hay. Other than that, they just hung like ornaments in the pasture, evenly spaced out chewing their cud. That night they ran fiercely around the pasture like they could hear tractors with hay coming in every direction.

Something not many people know about cows is that they love popsicles. After the fire, I was sent to live with my grandparents and all seventy-four head of their cattle. Every day I walked out to the pasture, sat by the fence, and waited for one of the beasts to wander my way. It didn’t take long for me to discover that their favorite flavor was grape which worked out great for me considering that’s the only flavor I hated.

Other than the cows, there weren’t many people around the farm to talk to. When I was sent to the farm, Gran was eighty-four and Pa had just hit ninety. I was seventeen and our age gap made us from two separate worlds. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them and we had plenty of things in common, but they couldn’t understand certain things. Gran was from a time where if you had a problem you kept it to yourself. To be a proper southern belle, you had to walk with confidence, like nothing bad had ever happened to you. I had plenty of friends my age, but they were too superficial to talk to about certain things. When the most emotional stress you’ve ever felt was when your goldfish died, there are just some situations you can’t sympathize with.

My parents got divorced when I was six. Unlike most kids, I wasn’t that upset about it. They fought constantly, and I could never tell whose fault it was. Mom said dad asked for the divorce which put him at fault, but as I got older I could see that mom was the bitchiest person on the planet. I would have divorced her too. I still went with her after the divorce. Dad was good with cows, and cars, and anything else that couldn’t talk back. Children on the other hand he could not handle.

One day he was putting together my swing set. He asked me to go get him a specific wrench. I was four, I couldn’t read the damn fractions that specified what size each wrench was. I brought the wrong wrench to him three times. That was the first and last time dad ever spanked me. Afterwards, he cried harder than I did looking at the welts on my legs from the switch he plucked off one of the big oaks in our backyard. “Don’t tell your mom.” He lost his patience easily. His temper scared me, but what scares me worse is the fact I inherited it from him. So, I didn’t visit him, then when I was ten he just died.

That left me with just mom. That is until she met Joshua. Joshua was young, only thirteen years older than me. He was closer to my age than hers. He met mom when I was thirteen, at the convenient store we owned in town. He worked in the oil field, so he made good money. Mom said he could take care of us, and they were married before my fourteenth birthday. Back then I liked Josh, before he got laid off. He took me to the movies, bowling, skating, whatever I wanted to do. When I got older and he got laid off he traded these family outings for secret trips to the beer store. “Don’t tell your mom.”

Not too long after they were married, mom got cancer. It was breast cancer. The family curse, we were all blessed in that area, but by the time any woman in my family was fifty it was off with their breasts! Mom wasn’t so lucky. They didn’t catch it until stage three, but the doctors said they were optimistic. She did it all: chemo, radiation, double mastectomy, and boob job in one, only to find out it was already in her lymph nodes. She lived until I was sixteen, then I was left with Joshua as per her will’s request.

I still worked at the same old convenient store mom bought after the divorce. She had left it to me along with a life insurance policy that would keep me comfortable through college. I never minded working at the store. We had a deli in the back with the best burgers this side of the Mason Dixon Line, and customers that treated me like their own family. The old men were always my favorite. They weren’t the perverted stereotypical old codgers that usually come to mind. They were like my grandparents. They lit up when I smiled and asked them about their latest fishing trip or newest calf. They made me feel like I had normal family.

Occasionally we got customers from out of town, but they were few and far between. Our best business came from work crews off the pipeline or oil rigs. That is how I met Jaxon. Jaxon was a pipeliner. I know that you are supposed to be against the oil field, and hate them for polluting the country, but Jaxon wasn’t his job. He had gone to college. He didn’t want to do what he was doing but he wanted to make a good living, and I respected him for that. He was a walking contradiction in every way possible. He was from the middle of nowhere too, and he seemed to be deeper than most, one of those people who asks how you are and genuinely wants to know in detail.

On our twelfth date, I took Jaxon out to the farm to have dinner with Gran and Pa. I never brought guys to meet them. My friends came over all the time. They thought Gran could fry a shoe and make it taste like something gourmet. Boys were a different story. Grandparents have a way of making things awkward. I was always afraid that she would Gran would say something embarrassing about marriage. I liked Jaxon, but he was leaving in less than a month for a job in Washington. He would be gone for over a year and I was only seventeen; long distance is hard and I wasn’t sure he would even be interested in that.

“This land is beautiful. It must have been awesome growing up out here with all this land and the farm.”

“It was something,” I mumbled. He looked out over the pasture and noticed the giant black patch that looked like God put a giant cigarette out in the grass. His brow came together, “What happened there?”

I didn’t know how to answer. Everyone in town knew what had happened. I never had to explain myself to people. Some avoided me like the plague, some just pitied me, but most people understood. I examined the singed part of the field.

“I happened there.” We were pulling up to the house, so he didn’t have time to question what that meant. We ate dinner, Jax talked to Pa about cows, and Gran declared him a fine southern gentleman.

“I would really love for you to show me around the farm Jess, if that’s alright with your grandparents?” I wanted them to say no. I didn’t want to answer questions, but I liked Jaxon. I gave him a tour. As the sun was starting to go back down I went back inside to get my grape popsicles.

“Come on,” I said slyly.

“Why do you need the popsicles?”

“You’ll see.” We drove his truck out to the middle of the pasture and sat on the tail gate. It took some time but slowly the herd started migrating our way.

“What are they doing?”

“They are coming over for a snack.” I let Jax hold out the first dripping, purple stick. An old heifer wrapped her tongue around it, sliding the ice off into her mouth. Jax’s face lit up with laughter, but then it shifted into something else.

“They’re lucky, you know?” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“All they do is roam around all day. They don’t worry when their next meal will come. It’s usually right under their feet. And to top it off they have you providing dessert every day. They have the easy life.” I knew what he was referring to. Jaxon hadn’t had the easiest childhood. Straight after high school he went to the pipeline so that he could pay for college. What was ironic was that he went to college to avoid pipelining. Somehow that degree couldn’t get him anywhere better than where he had started.

“It’s not really fair, I suppose, but that’s life.”

“Jess, what did you mean when you said you were what happened?”

I thought about that question for a long time. I stared at the sea of brown limousine cattle grazing around us and went back in forth in my mind. I needed to decide what story to give him. I thought about our third date. He took me out for dinner and a movie. In my town dates were few and far between. Guys were too cheap to take you out unless it involved a bonfire or a house party. When Jax asked me out I was flattered, and when he was a total gentleman about it I was ecstatic. On our third date, he invited into his camper where I met him before the movie. I went in with him, and we laid on his bed and talked while I ran my fingers through his long hair. He got ready for bed, and I was about to leave, but he asked me to stay. It wasn’t in a weird trying to get in my pants way either. He wanted to hold me, and I wanted to let him. He stripped off his shirt and laid down. Across his chest was a tattoo I couldn’t see before. “Live and Let Die.” It was written in loopy cursive.

“Why those lyrics?” I asked tracing the letters across his smooth skin.

“I learned a long time ago it’s best to leave certain people and situations in the past. This is my reminder to let it all go.” That is when I knew I liked him. I had so many things I wanted to let go. The fire was the biggest thing.

That tattoo is why I decided to tell him about the fire. I wanted to let it go with him. He could take it with him to Washington, and I could let it die.

“There used to be a house there, my house, but I burned it down.” I told him everything. After Mom died, I stayed with Joshua. Mom thought it would be better if I stayed with him, less change, and my grandparents were right across the pasture. What mom didn’t know is that Josh wouldn’t take her death well. Josh drank whiskey like water from the time he got up in the morning until he stumbled into bed at night. At first it wasn’t a big deal. I could take care of myself, cook, clean, take myself to school and ball games. We lived like that for about three months with me taking care of us and Joshua drinking himself into a stupor. One night while I was cleaning up from dinner Joshua wondered into the kitchen.

“You look just like her.” He wrapped his clammy hands around my neck and tried to pull my mouth into his sickly-sweet mouth. I pushed him away, and he stumbled backward. His face came alive with rage, and he charged at me. He took me to the floor and pinned my hands down. This wasn’t the first time he had made a move. Even when Mom was alive, Josh occasionally made passes at me. I couldn’t move. He worked his body over me until he passed out. When he finally passed out I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I went to the pantry and took out his collection of whiskey bottles. I poured the sweet liquid all over his body. I pulled the lighter out of his front pocket he kept to light his cigarettes. Without thinking, I burned the house down with his unconscious body still lying in the kitchen floor. A part of me thought he would smell the flames and wake up, but the other part of me smiled when I saw the house collapse.

I finished my story and half expected Jax to leave without saying a word. He didn’t though. He pulled me to his side and said, “Let it die.”

Cathy Beaver

Intro to Creative Writing ENGL 2043-001

Dr. Micah Hicks

Fiction

A Brother's Conscience

My boots skidded in the snow. Thankfully, I didn't slip and fall on my butt when I came to a stop. Especially due to the fact that I'm running for my life for the umpteenth time. I bent over and panted, trying to get air into my lungs. I didn't want to run the risk of trying to fly in this weather or run the risk of being shot down again. Where were Gina and the others? Shouldn't they have been out here hunting?

A click made me freeze. I looked up to see my twin brother, Tyler, standing a few feet away with a crossbow trained on me. I slowly stood back up, my eyes not leaving him. “Tyler...what are you doing?” I asked.

“You know as well as I do, Aaren,” he replied. “The vampire clan hasn't been doing their job at keeping the insane numbers down, so the Slayers have to intervene.”

“By taking out the entire royal family? Why not just go after the insane ones who slaughter without giving a damn? Don't tell me you're so blind in doing this job that you haven't noticed the Slayers are abusing their authority.”

“Don't even try to talk me out of this! The clan chose this fate when they didn't enforce their own rules. You just ended up being related to the wrong vampires.” His finger slid onto the trigger, getting ready to pull it.

I already knew that trying to play the family card wouldn't work on him, never seemed to after years of this cat and mouse game we've played, but I wasn't about to roll over and let him kill me. No, the Slayers wouldn't let off on the supernatural clans THAT easily. “Well then, what about you, Tyler? What do you think they'll do to you after I'm dead and gone?”

His aim faltered. “What?”

“Think about it. You're my brother, my FULL brother. That means you're part of the royal bloodline of the vampires, right? Sure, you don't have the vampire powers I do, but that doesn't change what's in your blood.”

“No, you're trying to confuse me! I'm not listening!”

“Just cut the crap and listen! If the Slayers had such a problem with the crazed vampires, why not just go after THEM and then come back to punish us? Why go to wiping out the family that keeps order within the vampire clan? The Slayers are using the insanes as an excuse to gain more power. Think about all those were's and shapeshifters 'employed' in their group. Do they look like they had a choice to join? Do they look like they want to be there? No! They were kidnapped and forced to be the Slayers' slaves and weapons! Are you going to seriously turn a blind eye on that?”

“Shut up! Just shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!”

“Oh, I don't? Out of all the Slayers in your group, which one have Gina and the rest of the pack left alone? Which one doesn't use other were's to do their bidding while they hang back and finish off the victim once they've had their show? Out of all the Slayers, who's the only one who has a shred of honor in him to make sure there's no suffering? If they didn't think you were honorable, would you even still be standing?”

My words were already starting to impact him. The crossbow lowered to the ground, no longer pointing at my chest. From the look on his face, he was trying to think of a comeback for that mini speech but failing with each suggestion. “I...I...”

“You know that Servaas—that scarred up merc wolf—wouldn't hesitate to strike you down whether you were related to me or not. Relation to an ally means next to nothing if they're a threat. However, considering he can tell you're doing your job as it should be done, he leaves you alone. He can 'see' that you don't take part in the same atrocities. Are you really going to stand there and say the Slayers are the good guys when they've been causing more suffering to the real victims that mean nothing to them than the ones they're supposed to be fighting against?!”

I hated having to be mean to him, but Tyler couldn't play ignorant forever. Not when he's had to have seen how the Slayers treat the non-human members of their group, if they should even be considered members. The werewolves are treated less than dogs, usually wearing those control collars, and I don't even want to think what they do to the other were's. Servaas could brush it off easily, but the others...

More snow crunches from behind Tyler and up came Ivan, Tyler's 'guardian.' In other words, the man who killed our parents and took Tyler from us. “What are you waiting for, Tyler? This is your chance to take out the vampire royal family and gain status,” he told my brother.

“Tyler, don't listen to him. He's the one who killed our parents. Are you going to follow a murderer?” I intervened.

“Oh, please. Why should he listen to you, half-vampire? You've killed plenty of our Slayers in the past.”

“Like you're any better?! What about all those were's you force to work for you until they can't move?! You leave them to die or kill them yourselves if they even try breaking out of your control! You might be able to full humans, but you can't fool us supernatural creatures!”

“Enough of your words. Tyler, finish him once and for all.”

“Tyler, don't! Think about your honor! Are you really going to toss that aside just to be like the rest of the corrupted Slayers?! Are you going to kill someone who has no reason to fight back?”

“You royals failed in upholding the rules. You need punishment. Don't worry, the Slayers will be more than honored to take your place.”

Tyler, please! You know this is wrong! You don't need to prove yourself to power hungry people! Think what Mom would want.”

The crossbow shook in Tyler's hands. It didn't take having Servaas's power to realize that he was having second thoughts about following up on his superior's orders. He let out an angry yell and threw the crossbow on the ground, the weapon breaking apart into pieces with the force of the throw. His shoulders shook, and his eyes stayed on the ground.

Ivan scowled. “Are you going to betray us, Tyler?”

“No, I'm not. I'm going to be following through with what the Slayers should have done. We're killing the wrong vampires. Besides, who says the vampires weren't trying to take out the dangerous members of their clan? They can't reach every corner of the globe! They don't have the same means of communication that we do! We should be helping them rather than punishing them!”

My shoulders relaxed a little. I reached him. He was speaking for himself, not repeating what others have told him to say or think. He proved that he's the stronger one. Nice to see you're still there, bro.

Ivan growled, pulling out the crossbow that was strapped onto his back. “I knew you were too weak to kill your brother. Very well, then I guess I'll be the one to finish you both. Don't worry, the other recruits will hear of you dying with honor rather than turning your back on everyone.”

He brought up the crossbow, aiming at my head. I felt my fangs lengthen. I slipped on my clawed glove when howls echoed from far off. My eyes widen. No, why now?! Ivan heard the howls and smirked. “Guess we have more 'recruits' to take in.”

“NO!” I thought the yell came from my throat, but I was wrong. Tyler charged at Ivan, tackling him into the snow. The crossbow landed two feet away from them.

“Get off me, you stupid mixed blood!” Ivan fought back, the both of them rolling in the snow.

I saw where they were rolling towards. “Tyler! The cliff!” I warned, hoping he heard me. His blue eyes looked to the edge not too far off from them. He gritted his teeth and used his strength to pull himself and Ivan over the edge. “TYLER!”

My bat-like wings ripped through the jacket as I raced for the edge of the cliff. I couldn't see from the top, so I descended further down. I found Ivan who had died on impact with the rocky ground. I growled slightly. “You're lucky I wasn't the one to be do it.”

I heard a cough and searched for the source, finding Tyler a few feet away. The vampire blood must have kept him from dying as quickly as Ivan. That had to mean there's a chance...right? I rushed to his side, pulling him into a sitting position. “Tyler! Hold on, I'll call for Gina.”

“Aaren, it won't...do any good,” he responded.

“Stop kidding yourself, you'll be fine! A vampire can't die from this height!”

“A vampire...yeah...but I didn't...get all those powers, did I?”

“But...you're still...”

“Aaren...my spine's broken. I doubt...even a vampire...could survive that.”

“No...No, you're going to live! I'm not letting you die this easily!” I know I heard Gina's howl earlier, why isn't she here?!

“And what if I do live? I'm in so much pain...right now that I'm...surprised I can think straight. You said you didn't...like seeing others suffer...are you going to be selfish...and let me suffer then?” One of his hands slid onto my wrist. His grip was weak, but I could feel it tighten

My blood turned cold. “Tyler, you can't be asking me to-”

“It's either I go suffering the whole time...or you can let me go right now. Your...choice.”

I bit my lip, a fang piercing my skin. Forgive me, Mom...

Snow crunched under my boot as I got back up onto higher ground. Voices were whispering up ahead and I recognized a familiar silver haired woman. “Gina,” I called.

He head whipped around to face me. “Aaren! There you are! We smelled Slayer scents all over the camp and—what happened? You look paler than normal.”

I shifted the bundle in my arms, letting her see Tyler's face. She gasped. “Is he...?”

“Dead...yes...”

“Well, what happened? Who killed him?”

I set Tyler down onto the ground. “Ivan happened, that's what.” I walked off before she could press any further. She's already blaming herself for her own brother's death. She doesn't need to know what I did.

FEEDBACK (200+ words each)

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