Chapter Two
"No, no, no, not like that. Not like that at all," Takakura sighed.
Milking was a lot harder than I anticipated.
The cow wobbled around nervously, emitting a loud moo. I pulled the metal bucket out from under her and studied the contents. Not even a quarter full. "You'll get better at it. Takes practice."
I grunted and frowned.
"That should do it for today," Takakura nodded, grabbing the pail.
I acknowledged his remark and scrambled out of the stuffy barn. The sun had just started to set, brightening the sky with warm colors. My small, shabby fields displayed small pokes of vegetation. At least I had something to show for over 40 days of work. The cooling breeze whipped through my bangs and caressed my face. Working constantly made me enjoy the simpler things in life, like sitting quietly and sleeping.
The farm was beginning to look a lot better. Not great, but acceptable. It looked like an actual, functioning farm. My father had not taken good care of the plot, or bothered to update or maintain the buildings; in short, I inherited a mess.
I walked lazily up the dirt road that led to the spring. It was the most beautiful spot in Forget-Me-Not Valley, with giant, bright-blue flowers, songbirds, calm waters, and a canopy of twisting trees. I decided to visit at least three times a week; it was a very relaxing place. Villagers also frequented the place, but in the evenings they all left. This was fine by me, though; I was usually too tired to try and keep a conversation.
I took my usual spot near the waters, and stretched out flat on my belly, staring at my wiggling reflection in the pond. I sighed with content and pulled out a fresh notebook. Gingerly, I flipped to the first page and began to write.
A sudden sound of shifting feet startled me, and I sprang upwards.
"Oh, sorry," a man apologized sheepishly.
"..It's okay," I nodded, still shaken. "I just didn't see you there."
I had seen the guy several times before, and had even been introduced once, when I first moved here. He was of average build, but had an extra long and pointy beard and nose. His outfit was odd, with a red and yellow striped shirt, fringed leather jacket, and a wide-brimmed, tall, pointed, green hat. Some sort of hipster or hippie- I couldn't tell. I couldn't remember his name, but I did remember that he was a musician- although his guitar jogged my memory more so.
"I try to keep quiet when you're here, so you can nap or relax, or whatever you do."
"So.. you've been here at the same time as me before?" I asked, feeling a bit weird.
"... Yeah."
"Well, why didn't you say hello before?"
"I just didn't want to bother you."
"It's just.. Well, it's just kind of weird." I frowned, sitting cross-legged and moving my things across my lap. He appeared to flush, but I couldn't tell because of his large, dark glasses.
"Sorry, I'll make a point of saying something from now on."
I eyed him cautiously, finding it hard to relax.
"So, you're a musician, right?" I asked tentatively.
"Yeah," he smiled enthusiastically. "I was actually just working on a song, would you like to hear it?"
"Uh, sure," I shrugged.
He played a mellow, folksy tune, strumming carefully, but quickly, and sang:
"There was a miraculous apple
that grew
on a tree,
if you ate it,
you gained wishes three."
The music ended abruptly," Well. That's what I have now."
It was strange song, and I didn't understand it. I hoped that he wouldn't ask what I thought of it.
He shifted uncomfortably.
I wrote a few more sentences in my book, glancing up from time to time.
"Is farm life all you expected it to be?" He questioned with a small smile, toying with a strand of grass.
I thought, "It's a lot harder than I imagined."
"But, you enjoy the work, right? Proud of what you do?"
"Well, I wasn't at first, but it's growing on me. I want to do a good job, be better than.. ah, never mind that." I looked up at the sky; stars had begun to peek out from the darkness.
"They're awesome, aren't they?" He stared upwards, mouth agape. "Stars are one of those things that really inspire me. I don't know, they just make everything seem so small."
We sat in an amiable quiet. The large, blue flowers that spotted the area glowed a faint blue. It seemed magical, but I knew a certain type of firefly was attracted to its nectar.
"I always see you writing in a notebook. What are you writing about?"
"Oh, that.." I mumbled. "Well, I'm kind of writing a story."
"Oh, really?" His eyes lit up," A writer? What's you story about?"
"Uhm, I haven't really gotten that far, but it's a dystopian novel."
"Oh, something dark and thought provoking? How exciting! You'll have to tell me more about it later." He smiled kindly, "Today's been a great day. I feel the creative juices flowing! I think I'll head home and write some more." He stood and glanced down at me," Ah.. I enjoyed talking with you. So, I guess I'll see you again, later?"
"I think you know as well as I do," I answered brusquely, but then thought better of it and added a simple, "Yeah."
"Goodnight," he smiled shyly, warmly. Waved.
I stretched back onto the grass, reaching as far as I could with my fingertips. They hit something rough and leathery. I grasped the object and pulled it closer. It was a book. No, it was a diary! I flipped to the first page and read a name: Celia.
How interesting.