I felt like going with a snippet of Dead Zone life with this one. I have a universe, why not use it eh? So we get to see Story at home during an uneventful moment. And this is my first time writing for brigits_flame too. It's a fun community, I suggest the writers on my flist check it out.
The Dead Zone was quiet this evening. The fading sun of late spring warmed the air still and Story sat on the wooden barrier she had constructed painstakingly last year to form a pasture. The large horse that currently occupied that very pasture was grazing and the only noises came from the sound of his occasional grunt and snort and the birds occupying the rooftops and trees. That was one thing she loved about this changed world. No matter how hard you listened there was nothing but natural sounds now. No cars, aeroplanes, televisions or annoying phone ringtones. And so she was content to perch on the wooden strut of the fence with her book of letters on her lap and a cup of warm goat's milk in her hand.
She had intended on reading the letters once more, to enjoy the stories Rowan had shared with her over the years. She was, however, distracted. On the other side of the pasture was some movement. She watched the darting movements and didn't move a muscle. A small rabbit eventually braved the open space and wriggled under the fence to nibble at the long grass Ford and the goats had missed. Ford looked up at it, chewing on a mouthful of grass and flicking one long ear. Rabbits were of no interest to him though. He went back to grazing with a snort that caused the rabbit to sit up on its haunches and stare at the stallion.
A few moments of stillness passed before the rabbit decided it wasn't about to be hunted and eaten and the small creature went back to exploring the grass. Story watched it, weighing up the benefits of catching it and having it for dinner against the effort of the chase and the likelihood it would escape anyway. She let it be and opened her book, a converted scrapbook that she had all of her letters stored in, carefully labelled and filed away. She'd had plenty of time to work on such details over the past few months. She selected one at random and pulled it out, reading over the neat handwriting. The words brought a smile to her lips. She missed his letters more than anything. No mail had arrived from him since the Incident had happened and the world had come to a halt. She didn't even know if he was alive.
She sighed, trying to ignore her thoughts on that as best she could. With all the care of a museum archiver she folded the letter and placed it back in its allotted space in the book. Story looked up to where the rabbit had been. It was exploring further down the pasture, nosing about at the edge of the old shed. As she watched it pushed its nose underneath the outer wall curiously and with a little scrabbling it began scraping out a small hollow. It worked hard and seemingly tirelessly. All the same, one little rabbit couldn't do more than make a small hole to shelter in for the night. Any passing fox would have it out easily. It reminded her a little of her own work here. She had put all her effort into making her home habitable again. She had planted and weeded, hoed and seeded, she had rebuilt parts of the house, she cared for the livestock and even braved the hazards of going into town to trade and seek out bounty work. It had taken her months of hard work and still her work was not over. It never would be, she supposed. But at least she had kept at it. With patience and hard work she had taken her small hollow and turned it into a satisfying burrow.
She smiled at the rabbit and closed her book on her lap. It continued scrabbling and digging enthusiastically and she stayed still so as not to disturb it too much. She sort of felt connected to it, as if it had been put there specifically to remind her to keep working hard. As she watched another rabbit found it and they exchanged sniffs. Perfectly coordinated the new rabbit began helping with the task, making the burrow deeper and more comfortable twice as quickly. Story frowned and slid off the fence. There were some hints she just did not need from the universe.
Those rabbits would be lunch by tomorrow if they were still there.