Aidan{2}

by Obi in London

Here is the shortly awaited second chapter. You know I'm actually close to getting this published but I'm keeping it on the hushed side for now!

They finally neared the cosy speck of farmland they lived on. The sea of clovers were trampled daily but grew back as if by magic. A flock of crows were hovering over the crops but Aidan shouted loudly and scared them off. Day & Donegal Farm was a unique farm, that specialised in training elite sheepdogs which were sold off all over Munster, Ireland. Aidan’s dad Alan Day was training a new mutt in the field and shouted a hello to them as they stepped up to the porch of the huge farm house.

Even though Day & Donegal was a tiny speck in the country greens of Limerick, the farmhouse was massive and the fields were spread wide. Aidan slumped down in the living room and continued a story in his weathered leather journal.
“Ye know your middle name is Teague for a reason,” said his mum form the doorway, Aidan looked round, “ Teague means ‘poet’ and we could see from an early age you damn well were one!”
“Thanks mum,” said Aidan and smiled.

“There some sausage and mash on the table if ye want any,” she stated, “if it turns cold warm it up in are new microwave!”

Aidan’s mum had been wanting to get microwave for donkeys years, but Alan said the were dangerous radioactive death traps. However, after many years of his stubbornness being eroded away by her nagging he gave in. Adair Donegal trudged in from feeding the pigs and shearing the sheep. Mr. A. Donegal was the original owner of the farm and Alan Day worked for him training his sheepdogs. Though since the sheepdogs brought more business than the rest of the farm combined, Donegal kindly shared the farm half ‘n half with Alan Day. Adair was now fairly old, around the slowing age of fifty five. Even though his hairs had greyed silver his face was still as young as Alan’s and his body still hanging on to it’s muscular figure.

Looking closer Aidan could see he was fuming with rage. His face was drenched in glistening sweat and his brow crumpled lividly, into a ‘V’ shape. His breathing was loud and ragged and his nostrils flared.
“What’s the matter?” asked Aidan’s mother, Kerry. She hurried over and pressed a cup of herbal tea into his hands.

Adair engrossed the cup in his vice like grip, until he crushed the porcelain teacup into tiny white shards.
“ Aye!” cried Kerry hotly, “ it’s your cup anyway!” Kerry was usually a kindly person with a friendly disposition but when she felt like it she was more fiery then a hearth doused in petrol.
“Sorry, Kerry. It’s just these teenage bastards are always coming along and ruining my crop, and even spooking ma cattle! Ole Lana got scared one to many times and now she’s nought but a shivering wreck……”

Kerry looked at Adair’s despairing eyes and tried in vane to comfort him. “It’s okay we’ll fix Lana, she’s a tough ole-”
“No we won’t fix her!” he put his hand to his head, “I put her down this morning, she wasn’t eating……..”

Alan came in, tired and in a similar mood except less passionate. “Damn teens…….” he whispered under his breath. He shook his boots of and kicked them to a corner in the porch. He tramped upstairs without saying another word.
“Honey, aint ye gonna have any dinner?” asked Kerry softly.
“No!” shouted Alan back.