April 5, 2013
Day 5: Write a scene in a farm.
I am not the kind of girl who likes sloshing around mud barefooted. I am also not the kind of girl who likes to stand under the heat of the sweltering sun. And, I am definitely not the kind of girl who likes that unfamiliar feeling at the pit of the stomach that makes one feel bad about one's self and one's action called 'guilt'.
So, I do not understand why I am standing in the middle of a stupid muddy pig pen up to my elbows and knees, groping around for a needle in a haystack one very hot and dry afternoon on a summer day.
Sweat soaked through my pits, and the stupid useless pigs who were rolling around in the mud and sniffing at me weren't helping either. If you though pigs looked gross in cartoons, they're like a million times more disgusting in non-Hollywood glamoured life. Nope. Nothing like Babe, the Pig or Charlotte's Web. They reeked of something foul like pigs are expected to smell like when they roll around in their own dirt all day long, and I really did not want to think about the literal mess I have gotten myself into.
Because I think I am going to pass out if I do.
Finally, something shiny catches my eye.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and wade through the mud to get to it. Unfortunately, one pig seems to have caught sight of the thing too, and was now slowly sniffing forward. I will my legs to move faster despite the sticky mud, but inconspicuously in case the pig lunges for it as well.
I reach for the object just as the pig's snout reach it as well.
I tug at it and I realize that the pig was pulling with it's teeth as well.
"Come on, stupid pig!" I screamed at it in frustration, "Let go!"
That's what too much heat does to you, makes you start talking to farm animals.
"What are you doing?" a deep voice laced with amusement asked out of nowhere, startling me. I let go of the object just as the pig does, as well and I immediately picked it up before it sinks in the mud.
Holding it firmly in my palm, I make my way to the fence where a silhoutte, probably that of the speaker, was standing. I couldn't make out his features because of the sun's blinding light.
Coming closer, I finally saw that it was Drake. He sneered at me, his face just as hostile as I last saw it.
I must look like a complete freak to him, covered in mud and everything.
I climbed over the pig pen with much difficulty, dripping muck on the ground and wash the object in my hands by the water trough.
"Hey," Drake said, "You can't wash up over there. That's water for the horses and if you muck it up, I'll have to fill it again."
But his warning was too late.
I had already washed the thing in it.
So, now, even more guilty than before, I walked towards where Drake was standing and offered the object I have thrown earlier to him.
He looked at me in surprise.
"You actually looked for it?" Drake asked me in disbelief.
I nodded.
"In the mud? All afternoon?"
"YES! So take it already!" I snapped at him.
Beaming, Drake took the silver chain necklace looped through a ring from my hand, all trace of hostility gone from his face. He had a nice straight smile, with good pearly white teeth. It completed his All-American Boy look.
"I knew they were wrong about you," he said, catching me off guard, "Thanks, Ashley."
I could do nothing but simply nod.
Drake turned around and jogged away from me. He stopped to peel off his shirt and grab two buckets balanced on a plank. Only then did I realize he was going to replace the water in the trough which I have polluted. Drake didn't even complain.
Drake had a nice body, slender but tautly muscled. His sandy blonde hair complimented his perfectly tanned complexion, and his face was undeniably cute in the boy-next-door way. My eyes fell to the waistband of his jeans which were riding dangerously low on his hips.
I swallowed and pretended to look away when his eyes caught me staring.
For the first time ever, I think I was actually blushing.
