Consort Of Blues

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄
Consort of Blues

Everything was fine until that damned letter came crashing down, vaporizing every particle of normalcy in my home that existed prior.

It was only days ago the letters were sent, drowning towns into a frenzy of emotions.

Dread, in particular, in my home.

My parents are glued to me completely. A step I take is double theirs. It's saddening, to say the least, but I understand it is because they're scared. I am too.

Terribly.

I've been stuck in my mind for what seems like a never ending flow of tears and befuddlement.

The word why a repeated mantra in my head, a whispered prayer from my lips.

And so, I do what I do best, and frankly, in my opinion, the easiest: paint.

Though, as per, unfortunately, usual, I require a routinely incentive. Another thing piling into my alarmingly growing pile of unfortunates. How amazing.

I quite literally cringe at the mental sarcasm, not my..best, moment. I spit a piece of hay out of my mouth after an unforeseen spray of it attacks my face. I swat at my face with a squeal,  falling on my back.

With a huff, I inhale dramatically. "Now natures against me too?" I grumble under my breath. An amused moo comes from beside me,  eliciting a flustered glower shot toward the brown splotched cattle.

If a cow could raise its brow and make an expression of pure amusement, I'd say this one adjacent me embodies it pretty well.

I try, and try, and try some more, but for the life of me a flicker of inspiration runs past me every chance it gets, slipping through my fingers like liquid glue, the sticky residue a constant reminder of my failure.

I huff. Again.

Just that moment, a shadow steals the beam of the sun, obstructing the warmth. There's a slight chill, until, surprise, Grampy plops down beside me in a pair of dirtied overalls and a particularly durable dress shirt. My mood instantly shifts, and within seconds I'm returning his gummy smile.

"Grampy." I wrap my arms snug under his burly arms. The older chuckles, the sound vibrating like a comforting lull. "Treasure." He whispers into my hair.

I inhale his scent: musk, freshly chopped wood, pepper, and caramel. The faintest hint of mint somewhere in the mix. It is overwhelmingly comforting, hurling any negativity swirling I my brain out an imaginary window, and locking it.

"It's warm out 'er today, well for yer' beautiful skin, treasure. Mind runnin' huh?" He ruffles my hair. "Betcha it is. Specially with the way that cow there is starin' like you let one in its grass." he laughs, making me smile.

"Let me tell ya here, ye hear? Ya need to get some freshness, sweetheart. That's what ye are, the sweetest of hearts." He grins. "Need something fresh, somethin' but home, foreign."

"Gramps, I'd love to, truly, but I've been near everywhere. My brain is all fuzz." I purse my lips, picking a stray hay piece from my shirt. "Plus, I've much to pack. To do."

Grampy clicks his tongue and shakes his head disapprovingly, gently plucking a piece of hay from my disheveled nest of hair. "You can't survive with a mind of clutter." He murmurs softly. My lashes flutter as I gaze through them, getting a peak at the lost look in his eyes, making my heart clench.

"Grampy-" I begin softly, only to be cut off. "Live, treasure. And win." He pats my head gingerly. I give a small smile he doesn't return.