This is for the Bluebell Books Short Story Slam. The task was to write a short story/poem based on the image below. I'll tell you that my knowledge of anything to do with this image is limited to a teaspoonful, but hey, I gave it a go.
Bill as always had his rope lassoo which he rarely uses, thank god, I hate it when he does. Sometimes if one of the cattle gets a bit aggravated it will work itself into a frenzy, storming around everywhere so Bill will lassoo it and I will have to keep myself positioned while the animal struggles to free itself, usually choking itself unconscious or into relaxation. My sisiter Daisy died because one of the cattle charged into her while the lassoo was around its neck and broke her leg. Bill shot her because she was no longer of use to him, he was sad for a while, she was a good horse, but I proved to be up to the job and he recovered from it quickly enough. I still dread that happening to me though.
When we finished rounding up the cattle he let me back in the stable where Ireplenished myself while he saw to the cattle, slaughtering any that needed to be slaughtered and selling them to the butcher that comes by for them on an afternoon.
In the evening he lets little Johnny ride me around the ranch while he holds the reigns. I like Johnny, he's only eight years old but already I can sense he likes being on my back while I walk around. He's so like his dad, Bill. Later on Johnny came and se me in the stables and talked to me about his day at school while he removed my saddle and brushes my mane and coat. He hates Science but he likes Math and English because his teacher says he's really god at it. He told me he loves his daddy but he just doesn't want to be stuch on the ranch his whole life like him, he wants to see the world. This little boy might be divulging his deepest darkest thoughts to me, but the sound of is voice is nice and theraputic before I get a good night's sleep. I'll wake up tomorrow and it will be the same as today and the day after. It's never different.
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