![]() The Beast of YonderA Story by ardent seeker![]() This is an excerpt from a fairy tale I'm working on about a mysterious slaughterhouse.![]() Rising with the sun came bird calls, whistling women whose husbands have long since left for sea, waking workers grunting and sighing sad dreams, these are the sounds of morning sneeking in with bells ringing, like an unwanted goat inside the kitchen garden.
An awful sound drifted from around the bend of Old Ash Road. There stood an enormous structure made of rare and antique wood. A brash whistle was blowing, from along the side of the building a few men in bloodied butcher’s dress emerged. Not one man smiled as they filed into a cart and rode on toward the village. Seconds later, another shabby cart arrived timely. Out filed a new thick of men, but these wore butcher’s dress of clean white. Not a drop of blood was seen.
Arl was the hammer man. He was meant to swing. On the floor, read the words “Stand Here”. A thick red x marked the spot. Every eighteen seconds a deep bell would sound and Arl would swing his hammer with a pilgrim’s purpose as each ox fell before the bell tone had resonated.
He worked swiftly with beautiful precision, like the mechanical poet at the Long Way Home Arcade. He engaged his job sharply. No different than the blades the cutsman used to confront the flesh. No one alive, save these lone men, will ever know the sweet side of the slaughter house. For love is in their work, and life is theirs to take. By hammer or by love the butcher handles his beast for the sole purpose of eliminating hunger. © 2010 ardent seekerAuthor's Note
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2 Reviews Added on May 15, 2010 Last Updated on May 15, 2010 Tags: Fairy Tale, Slaughterhouse Author![]() ardent seekerBaton Rouge, LAAboutI get happy and then get sad, eat food, and sometimes I sleep. I have had some birthdays, in the past, there was cake. I often avoid the gaze of the young, there are to many painful memories inside th.. more..Writing
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