Short Stories, Tall Tales

- Taken (Part 1) -

I was only sixteen moons of age when I was led away by an alien hand. Rough, calloused hands, cracked with cold and weariness. They held me with a tight grip as we traversed through sunlit clearings and fields of bluebells, and tighter still when we finally left the forest. I was only sixteen moons of age when a warlock led me into the depths of his abode.

= = =

Sunlight collects from the shafts on the roof, pooling at my feet in a warm, golden puddle as dawn breaks in a fiery fit of yellow. I yawn as my eyes flutter half-open, sitting up groggily as rays of the mellow light find my face. Morning. Wary of my aching joints, I stumble from my bed, better known as a lump of hay piled together on the ground, and am immediately hit by the pungent smell of cow pat.

"Wha-

Suddenly, my eyes snap open. I recall snippets of broken conversation, my mind overwhelmed by a strange feeling of dearth; it's as if I'm missing something, like some great beast had devoured half of my soul. I feel unnaturally empty and lost, but I can't put my finger on why. As I contemplate my hopeless situation, I feel a hot gust of air warming the space between my ear and neck.
"AIEEEEEEEE!" I tumble forwards, crashing onto the floor and landing face-first in what I can only describe as a pool of foul-smelling muck. Quickly, I turn to look at my attacker through dung-filled eyelashes. A few feet away, I make out a distinctive, rectangular shape, narrowing down at the bottom to reveal two pairs of thick legs and something fluffy on its rear end. "C-cow?" I stutter, looking up in awe at the horned, bulky creature. Then, I laugh. I laugh hysterically, not really comprehending the reason why, but perhaps the fact that I've been sleeping in a cowshed is to blame, along with the fact that I most probably look like some crazed mud beast with my face smeared in dung.

I'm still laughing when the doors to the cowshed crash open, sending the cows in the shed into a frenzy of frenetic mooing. A gruff voice calls out.

"Bertha, here, girl."

I shuffle towards the corner of the shed as a large lump emerges from beneath the hay I had been sleeping in moments before. It nudges past me before shaking off its coat of prickly, yellow hay at the door, yapping as it does so. I gasp as I realise the large, lumpy mass is a dog, and a gigantic one too. It drools happily onto its thick, black fur as it looks up to the figure now standing silhouetted against the morning light. I quickly dip my head, unsure as to whether the figure's looking my way, and uncomfortable with the idea of whoever it was seeing my muck-covered face. So much for first impressions. From waking up in a cowshed to realising I had been sleeping with a huge dog, my mind had been working furiously to provide me with some much needed answers, disregarding the idea that I looked like a feral creature. Guiltily, I look down at my torn, dirtied dress, and notice from the corner of my eye the head of the silhouette turn to follow my gaze, immediately causing my cheeks to burn with a violent, red hue. This could not be happening. A thick silence ensues before the gruff voice calls out again.
"Come on, Bertha, we're going to be late." The door to the cowshed promptly closes. As the sounds of cheery barking disappear into the distance, I realise I had been holding my breath, quickly releasing it in a long, melancholic sigh. I was alone. Again. Mumbling something incomprehensible, my mind still lingering on the confusing events of the morning, I plop down on a pile of hay, my eyelids suddenly heavy. As I seem to drift in and out of a dreamless sleep, I twist my head to the melodious sounds of chirping from above and spot a pair of yellow-beaked blackbirds seemingly dancing through the rafters. Without meaning to, I feel my mouth twitch into a smile. The pair continue to chirrup as they flip backwards and forwards from the rafter, carrying a twig or straw of hay in their beaks each time. My eyes follow them, hypnotised, their movements blending into the streams of sunlight still pouring in from open patches on the roof. After what feels like hours, I hear the doors to the cowshed slowly creak open. Before the footsteps can reach me, however, I am asleep.

= = =

Sorry for the short section! I'm honestly only writing in this when I feel inspired, but I'll try to write everyday - can't promise anything though. This'll just be like my 'book of random shiz' (if you wanna call it that) and I'll be writing in it as I plan out my long-term project which will, hopefully, be a fully completed story.
Thanks for reading, btw!
~Moon ♡

P.S. - I apologise for my numerous SPAG mistakes cause there's probably a lot that I haven't spotted yet ;)