winkinatcha

Part three of dogbone stew, and this method of posting, limited to 1,000 words or a pdf of 19kb, in my opinion, just does not cut it... how3ever, thus we learn, and learn about how a particular sit n forum n blog works...

In the meantime, here is the final part three of the Short Story (Dogbone Stew) to become a novel

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I drift back to consciousness and it is dark and Hapenny is whining at the open caravan door.
Without thought, I sit up, and my back spasms and sends me crashing back down, writhing in
pain, only to realize that writhing makes it worse. I force myself to relax until the spasms go
away.
I call Hapenny in but my fear of her unknowing clumsiness as she licks my face in comfort
makes me send her out again without gentleness, feeling, not seeing her reproachful eyes as
she slinks down beneath the van.
I've been through this pain before. Two years back, working hard as a bricky's mate, I'd
popped my back the first time.
I know I'll be able to move in a day and maybe in three days I'll be able to walk out. It's going
to hurt though, and I've little food left, too certain of my health and summer's warmth to keep a
store.
Fear of my pain and weakness mingle with the remembered pup-screams as I sweat my way
through the night, drifting in and out of sleep.
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Halfway through the next day and I'm well over lying on my back and staring at the warped
ceiling of the caravan.
A half carved staff is just out of easy reach and I take a trembling age to inch my way out of
bed, lifting my weight with my arms where I can, 'til my veins stand out and the muscles quiver
and jump. Twice my back locks and I can do nothing but freeze in despair.
A clutching grab and the staff is mine. I climb up the wood and sway, semi-upright, and
hobble to the steps, then out. On level earth it's not so bad. I imagine my head as a balloon
and I try to float across the ground, every move deliberate and balanced, ready to brace
against another wave of spasms that threaten to claw at my back.
I take a piss, then maneuver myself to look at the house. At fifty yards I can make out the
shape of the pup wedged beneath the rock, but can only imagine the flies and ants already at
work.
It is gruesome, but I know what I should do. Every bit of protein counts. I am drenched in
sweat when at last I reach the fallen lintel. Hand over hand I lower myself down the staff and
kneel before the broken body.
Only the back legs are held by the rock.
The ants have started on the eyes, and the mouth.
I saw off the head with my knife. Juvenile flesh and cartilage parts easily. The ants bite my
hand, but their stings are nothing. Even the cloying smell of split carnivore guts is nothing.
Massive pain makes mincemeat of all other irritations.
I tear the pup's skin off and cut the body halfway down the back, leaving the offal and back
legs behind.
The only food in the caravan is some oil, some flour, an onion, a withered carrot and a potato.
I wash the little body and my hands in the bucket beside the door.
The fire is easy to light with my previous nights preparation, and all goes into the pot with
water and herbs and a little blessing for the pup.
Hapenny and her litter are subdued, but she butts her head against my leg as I stand
trembling above the pot.
I am grateful for her voiceless company, and I trust that she will not despise me.
I will survive. My back is crippled now, but it heals. In maybe two days I can make the walk to
town… get a little help if needed, at least get in supplies.
The pickings will be slim from the pot tomorrow; thickened with flour it will be little more than
flavored gruel for me and my dogs. But it will suffice.
Gently I go to bed. Hapenny enters and sniffs then returns to her pups, no doubt hungry, but
not so discontent.
She's seen me at the pot and knows that there will be food tomorrow.
Dog-bone stew indeed.

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Mmmm need to find a better way to put my text out here...

Perhaps I might have to consider rebuilding a website as a storage area n providing links back here.

WE'll see, only so much time in the day....

But without a doubt, that was waaaay to difficult for a "relatively" short story.

As per other posts... if you are not me, n reading this, a comment would be appreciated.

Cheers

Joe/