Yawning, Nolan rose from his bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed he slipped into his old, worn slippers. He shuffled to his window and shut the curtains while mumbling about bright suns and early mornings. Gently he keeled down at the edge of his bed and whispered forcefully his morning prayers. Nolan still had no idea why is grandmother forced him to say his prayers as soon as he woke up, everyone else in town that went to Church did it at night. To get rid of their darkest inner demons and grace them with gentle rest. Or something like that....
He threw on a pair of denim jeans and a T-shirt (not bothering to brush his thick brown hair) and continued shuffling through his grandmother's house, into the kitchen. Grabbing a small snack bar and sipping room- temperature orange juice out of a mug, he glanced at the antique grandfather clock: 6 o'clock. He slammed down the juice on the counter. 'Wow. I'm damn fantastic. Late again? A lucky week I guess.'
Running outside to the barn, Nolan decided to save time by not slowing down when he grabbed the rusting silver pail from the fence side and it almost slipped out of his hands. But he kept running, stumbling a little when he prepared for the pail to be heavy but the shocking lightness threw him off guard. The barn was a large wooden, red, two-story building that housed a fair amount of horses, two mules, and a cow. Throwing open the huge doors, Nolan dashed to the cows' corner. Daisy glared at him with an almost grandmotherly look, that mildly haunted him, despite her young age. You could pretty much hear the words 'Now, you better get goin' sonny boy' mixed in with her impatient moos.
Nolan quickly brushed her head, between her wide doe-like eyes, and sighed "Sorry, sorry." The poor cow was full and annoyed, stamping her hooves all demanding. 'Hurry up, boy' you can almost hear the cow murmuring. With a full pail of milk, he thanked the traditional black and white cow, and let her out of the barn so she can be with her nearly new-born calf. Of course, Nolan was still in a rush and when he ran some of the milk started sloshing out of the bucket. Nervously, he holds the pail tighter up to his chest and clambers with haste into the house, placing the milk on the marbled counter.
"Late." A raspy voice growls.
Spinning around Nolan started stuttering. " I-I know, I'm sorry, I overslept."
YOU ARE READING
Down the Endless Road
Fantasy14 year old Nolan has been pushed to the brink and is ready to run, to run out of his grandmother's house and into the forests of his backyard to escape the devils of life only to find out that living in the wild is not as easy as he thought. He wil...
