The Fine Acoustics
Chapter One:
Jill sat on the cold fence overlooking her barren field. The early morning frost was crisp over the dead grass, and a few snow flakes caressed her sweet chilled cheeks. The first few rays of sun beamed through her closed eyes. She sat there, content, with her hands in the pockets of her thin purple sweatshirt; she could feel the cool metal of the zipper on her pale chest. A soft, almost inaudible melody filled the air, and Jill imagined the notes tangling her ponytail instead of the frigid breeze. Jill started to hum.
A long moment passed and the song began to fade, but it remained imprisoned in her mind, leaving Jill with a bittersweet flavor in the back of her throat. It was a sad kind of song; the kind of song that gave you a feeling of melancholy.
"Jill, is that you?" called an aged voice. It was Takakura, her father's old friend.
Tak was an old man around his late 50's. He lived in a log cabin at the edge of the property and used to run this farm with Jill's father before he died. He had a leathery creased face from working in the sun all day and thick graying eyebrows that shadowed his eyes, but it gave him a sort of gruff, sweet-guy appearance.
Jill cracked her eyes open-an enticing purple. "Yes! Hello!" she shouted and waved. He was standing in front of the barn doors on the opposite side of the field.
"It's nice to see you again!" He yelled back. Jill jumped off the fence and jogged over to him, some melting snow getting in her sneakers.
They hugged.
"How are you doing?" Tak asked as he patted her back and parted from the embrace.
"Fine. A bit excited." Jill smiled. "What 'bout you, Tacky?"
"Good." the old man motioned for her to come inside the barn. "I have something for you to help you get started farming. I'm so glad you decided to take over Pete's farm; it means a lot to me." Takakura pulled open the heavy barn doors and they stepped inside. Jill was thankful for the warmth that wrapped around her like a blanket as they walked over to a feeding trough where a small black and white cow stood.
She clasped a hand over her mouth. "You got me a cow!"
Tak nodded.
Jill squealed and squeezed the man again. "Thank you so much! Does she have a name?"
He grinned, deep laugh lines carving his face. "Anything for my old friend's daughter. You're just like one to myself." He looked back at the cow. "I thought you'd want to name her."
Jill let out another whine and clapped her small hands together once. "I have the perfect name for her! Wendy!"
Furrowing his bushy brow in thought, Takakura finally said, "I like it. Wendy the Cow." and then Jill smiled a grand toothy grin.
Gustafa sat alone at the counter in the Blue Bar. He had his head propped up on an elbow and held a half empty glass of beer in the other, sighing. After he finished it, Muffy, the barmaid, took the empty glass and washed it with a soapy rag, her green eyes glittering in the low light.
Muffy thought Gustafa was a sweet man. He had only been in the valley for a few months. Though he was a traveler, he stayed long. She'd seen him play his guitar against a tree near his tent, thinking it was such a lovely sound.
And he's so decent looking, she thought. He had such a pleasant face, kind of rectangular, with a cleft chin and a slightly too long, too large, curved nose. Muffy couldn't tell what color his eyes were because he always wore purple sunglasses, even inside, but she always imagined them to be a deep brown. He had weeks of 5 o' clock shadow that evened out his features. Gustafa wore an earthy green hat and other hippie-like stripes and tie-dyed shirts with brown bell-bottom jeans. And when Muffy had leaned in to take his order, she could smell the incense on him.
"Why the long face, Gustafa?" Muffy asked now in her New York accent after drying and putting the clean cup away. "Looked a bit down this whole evening."
"Nothing," he replied softly, scratching the hair on his chin and pushing his sunglasses up with his thumb. "Just a bit tired. . ."
Muffy flipped a curly lock of hair over her shoulder. He has such a sweet, calming voice. I wonder why he doesn't sing, she wondered. "I heard you playing early this morning."
"Did you?" Gustafa didn't seem to be surprised.
"It was such a pretty song. You should play here sometime!" the waitress gushed.
"N...no. I don't even know how long I'm gonna be staying here." he drummed his fingers over the counter lazily in the rhythm of one of his songs.
"Oh, right."
A small group of men came in and sat down at the bar next to Gustafa and Muffy immediately took their order. Gustafa wasn't really too keen on their loud jabbering, so he left a tip and got up off the stool he was sitting on. "See you later, Muffy." he said over his shoulder and walked out of the valley's only bar.
A/N: I just got my friend to edit this for me.
Reveiw please! :)
