Excerpt

It had to be a dream; not because his dead mother was setting out dinner; nor because his father was sat at the table, red faced and laughing like he had never seen before; not even because his sister was sat with him, smiling happily. Really it was a dream because it was sunny. Long shadows streached across the dark wood floor, light spilling in through the double doors at the back of the room. The fresh yellow paint lit the kitchen, his family stood out against it like a pop up Christmas card.
He wanted to freeze this moment. He wanted to stop time and drink it all in. The family he had never had.

His mother had died when he was eleven, his sister seven. For a reason he had never understood his father had blamed his sister, and her life was full of abuse and misery since then. He was powerless to stop it.
In the years that had past he had learnt how to set bones, soothe bruises and bandage cuts, but he couldn’t learn how to mend a broken heart. She didn’t talk about it but he knew that their mother was fading from her mind. If she had ever known a kind word from their father it had long since been forgotten, only terror and anger remained.
He escaped it all because he would take the crown. In his fathers eyes he could do no wrong, until he abdicated.

As the dream continued he watched his father lean towards his sister and whisper something to her. It gained him a light smack from his wife and playful teasing. He smiled at his sister’s laughter. She wouldn’t be a little girl by now, she would be twenty in June. He frowned, a bitter taste on his tongue. He wondererd if she was even alive, if his father had enough restraint not to kill the only heir he had left

He watched the dream unfurl. For it could only be a dream. It was never sunny here, in his cell, his prison, his punishment.

His banishment.

Excerpt

Z is for Zebu

Z.jpg

Well, I didn’t make the deadline, and I’m posting on a sunday. But at least I’ve wrote it and at least I can say, “I finished!”

This is the final instalment of the A to Z blogging challenge. More information can be found here.

He had grown around the animals, a fact of life as common as a dog or a cat in any other family. But to others they were wild creatures, to some they were no more than a cow, and to another group they were holy. All his life had been spent with the animals, his father had them on his land and now he had them on his own.

So you can imagine his surprise when a man knocked at his door in a business suit, with a lanyard around his neck and a letter that told him he was no longer allowed to keep his animals.

“I’m sorry sir,” the man had said, “new government decree. They’re going extinct in the wild, and this is their way of saving the animals.”

“I don’t understand. The land where the wild Zebu’s live is miles away! Most of it was cut down for that new building project, where will they live?”

“That’s not for you to worry about, sir.”

“It damn well is!” he had replied, “These are my animals! They’ve been in my family for generations. I was there when they were calves and I’m gonna be there this spring when the new mothers have their calves.”

“I’m sorry sir,” the man repeated, “government decree. They’ll be gone by the end of the month.”

It had taken all of his will power not to slam the door in the man’s face. Instead he took the letter and immediately went to his computer. Surely he had rights? These animals were a part of his farm, they were part of his livelihood.

It took him nearly all month, even with help from his family, to get the evidence he needed. When the truck pulled into his farm he was ready. In one hand he had the original letter, in the other he had a folder, full of information and evidence. And by his side stood his lawyer.

He wasn’t going down without a fight.

These were his animals, and they depended on him.

They were his Zebu, and he was their farmer.

Z is for Zebu