Surreal

Chapter 2 | Hello Again

"Kathy, where are you going so early?"

I grimace. I despise the nick-name my parents have given me, although I am too worried for their feelings to tell them that.

"Chores, mum!" I shout in reply, making a quick dash for the door before I can be stopped.

"So early? Are you feeling alright? Have you had breakfast?"

I sigh, halting myself in the open doorway. "Yes, yes, and yes mum. I'm fine! I need to feed Gail!"

She yells another reply, but it doesn't quite make it to my ears as I quickly scurry out to the barn. The barn: a very nice barn compared to some, it stands tall and proud, with a large sliding door and two glass-framed windows at the peak. A small pasture lies behind the barn, where five windows allow the animals to breath in the fresh morning air.

"Morning, Gail," I coo to the half-asleep mare as I make my way over to the barrels of grain. Grabbing a bucket and shoving it into the grain barrel, I fill it and take it to Gail's feeding trough. I repeat this four times before the trough is finally full, then I must fill her water trough.

"Here, you fat old mare," I critique her large body as the last of the water is dumped out into the trough, "You hurry up and eat, now. I've got somewhere I need to be, aaand..." I balance on the tips of my toes to look over into the barrels, "by the looks of it, we could use more grain."

She whinnies in response, obviously not caring at all to what my wishes for the day may be as she slowly chomps down her meal.

It was only two days ago that I had met the lovely James Nicholls, and those two days passed slowly as I stared out the window, just waiting for him to ride back over the hill. And, of course, he hadn't.

So, I would instead pursue him.

Gail whinnies and nudges my arm, and, having captured my attention, kicks at her feeding troughs.

"Very good, Gail," I congratulate with a pat when I see her containers empty.

Fetching her saddle, I tack her slowly and efficiently, and once her bridle is slipped on over her muzzle and buckled and secure, I mount. Giving her sides a soft nudge, we trot from the barn and out onto the meadows of lovely England. Once we are away from sight of the cottage, I kick Gail's sides and we gallop away, my mind escaping all thought and flying with the wind.

The sky blends with the ground in a grand blur as we ride on, towards the village. I close my eyes, a dangerous option atop a horse, but am forced to open them immediately when the sound of far off voices and the whinnies of horses catches my ears.

The village. Cobblestone streets lined with quant stone houses make up most of the small town, but the few shoppes that litter the square sets the view off perfectly. Colors of brown, grey, and green are easily highlighted, brightening the scene even on the rainy days. Blooming flowers in their ripest state add an even more colorful texture to the village with their pinks, purples, reds, and yellows, growing pridefully in the dirt-filled troughs nailed under almost every window.

I gain small waves of friendship as I bring Gail to a walk and ride through the streets of the small Cornell village. Not many villagers are out, it being a Thursday, and most folks do shopping and visiting on Saturdays and Sundays. The clump clump of Gail's hooves against the cobblestone lulls me for some odd reason, setting me in a trance-like state. It is such a strangely beautiful sound.

"Whoa, Gail!" says a friendly voice, "Katherine! Watch where ya'r goin'!"

I bolt upright in the saddle, causing Gail to tense, but when my gaze finds the little man in the doorway of the feed store, I can't help but chuckle.