BHS Young Writer's 2011 Entry: Farm — Part V of VI

He awoke shivering in the mud. Jeb rose unsteadily and felt as if he would retch. His head pounded. He stumbled but caught himself; drew in a last long, shaky breath.

In his absence the world had aged. The sky was once again shadowy, threatening to lapse into night. Its ability to do that, to continue to cycle oblivious to the world below it, annoyed and fascinated him at the same time. This idea occupied him for a moment, as if crowding out the darker thoughts. His mind was pure, free, simple. He would not think about the dog.

The feeling started to come back into Jeb’s legs. He would be alright.

It occurred to him suddenly that the town’s annual church carnival was coming up. He remembered the groups of huddled girls giggling at school, waiting to be asked, and the new girl, Penny Jenkins, who seemed quieter than the others. He thought about her dark, shy eyes and wondered if he should ask her, if she would say yes if he did. But he did not think about the dog.

He inhaled deeply. Spring was coming, and that meant baseball—he thought of the rich, earthy smell of the mound the morning after a good night’s rain. He could almost feel the ball in his pitching arm, heavy and round and perfect. But he did not think about the dog. He did not think about the dog, and he did not feel guilt.

His mind came back from its lofty perch and settled on reality.

He wondered what time it was, what was for dinner, and—oh—would his father be mad that he had been gone for so long?

With this thought he turned and ran back to the house, sprinted across the crying grass and through the troubled wind. A hint of a relieved smile broke across his face. He had somewhere to go. He had someone to be.

His eyes had dried.

Check back Wednesday afternoon for the finale, Part VI.