As part of the A to Z Challenge, through the month of April I’ll be posting a story a day based on photographs by Joseph W. Richardson and prompts given to me by blog-friends.
Writing prompt: Quotas had never been easy to achieve
Provided by: Daniel Antion, blog-friend and tech-whiz.
One of the signs you’ve truly grown up is your shoes fit your son.
What if you have no son, what then, you ask, officer? But I have a son, see. Had, you’ll tell me, but that’s just grammar.
I have a son, and he’s good. He loves the outdoors, the shy sort, handy at the spread with the hatchet, in the woods with the gun. All those bear and wolf pelts you see? He brought home every last one of them. Shot his first wolf that winter he turned fourteen. Fifteen years ago, that was. I taught him.
Why didn’t I go? My eyes don’t see so good. A bit nippity out and my bones would freeze in the snow, that’s why. What’s that gotta do with this, you say?
I’ll tell you. All they found is a piece of blue cloth. Some blood. Pig blood for all I know. Yes she was wearin’ a blue jacket, but that’s neither here nor there. That’s a shed, those nails and hooks on the posts are to chain Slow Elk with. Cows, officer, not women. Why would my son want to chain women? And why this blue-jacket woman don’t stay home? That’s where the trouble starts, if you ask me, women strayin’ from home.
Why isn’t he back yet? He’s out hunting all November now, that’s why. He hasn’t called, but didn’t call year before last either. Came back home the same, in January, four wolf pelts, six coyote. Good shot, my boy.
We need to save our range maggots, officer, put food on the table. Quotas had never been easy to achieve, not twenty years ago, not now, when those blasted wolves are eatin’ our lambs to the ground. Spendy thing, too, that shootin’ license. My son wants to get most of the harvest quota in our county. Shoot as many of the thievin’ bastards he can, all right?
No. He’s a shy boy, never seen a woman with him. And for the hundredth time, he’ll be back, soon. Tomorrow, maybe. He’ll be back, I betcha. That’s all I know.
If you’re done, I have some pigs to feed now. Nice speakin’ atcha, officer. Call me if you hear from him.
Are you taking part in the A to Z challenge? Do you read or write fiction? Ever write based on a prompt? What’s your take on wolves? On hunting? What do you make of the man in the story?