Archive for the 'Alice Spicer + Marianne Macrae' Category

The Farmers Return


The Farmer’s Return, 1762



Upon the Farmer’s return, his family gathered about him. From Daughter’s face there hung a bulb of garlic, masquerading as a nose and under Mother’s skirt, a small village settlement bustled about its business.


They swathed the Farmer’s weary body in detailed exaltations of welcome. “Oh Papa!” cried Small Jeremiah, his head swelling and falling off his neck in adoration, “you smell so much like the outdoors, I mistook you for a breath of wind!”


“Ah, Small Jeremiah, you have learnt well. We must always welcome the wind as you have welcomed me, for the wind brings with it grit to blind our enemies. I am old now; my shoulders have grown too narrow to carry on. And so to you, I bequeath my horses.”


With the poorly portrayed excitement of a child actor, Small Jeremiah dropped his candle and the village under Mother’s skirt was razed to the ground.


The horses stood huddled on the hillside, gazing down towards the town, nestled in the distance. The children suckled their mothers making Siamese twins of themselves, beautifully joined at the milk duct. The scent of the burning village mumbled towards them like an old drunk man looking for money.


“The farmer has returned,” said Casper to the mares, his silver-white mane bleeding down his neck with an overt drama. “Things are to change. Get the children all together. Don’t say anything to worry them, just get them ready.” And with that, he galloped away, each hoof-fall a small explosion.



Small Jeremiah climbed The Hill, breath whistling through his young lungs like dwarves about their work. The path was smooth, undisturbed but for his own light footprints. Snagged on the branch of a tree, a thin, silvery hair warbled an enticing tune against the breeze, to which Small Jeremiah found himself dancing.



Days later, The Farmer, sick with age and grief went out walking up The Hill. His wife, unable to live but too scared to die, had fallen to days of sleepless dreams and could no longer see The Famer, and so he sought solace in the fields.


He stumbled about the land, calling for Small Jeremiah. The horses danced in the distance, flattening a mound of freshly turned earth.


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