Just a small little idea that I had.  Partly based on some real-life stuff, but for the most part it's a complete fabrication.  A fantasy born from my mind…

This is the first story I've posted since Fictionpress.net was created.  Seriously.  Before this all my stuff was on Fanfiction.net.  Wow that was quite a while ago.  I feel so old…

And nope, sorry, in no way, shape, or form can you use any part of this story.

On the Farm

By Nentikobe

The gentle summer breeze felt nice on her face.  She turned the face the direction in which the wind was blowing from and breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of the field around her.  She could sense a hint of pine; a patch of trees was growing just off to her left.  She opened her eyes and took in the soft, golden glow the world usually has at around sunset. 

            The nearby rows of corn a few feet away were not yet knee-high, but that was all right.  It was only June; they still had a couple weeks left before the fourth of July.  Whether or not that phrase even had any bearing on how good of a crop it would be she didn't exactly know for sure, but lots of people seemed to go by it, so she did, too.

She stood silently, listening to the telltale signs of life around her.  Crickets chirped, frogs in a near by pond could be heard croaking.  Over head some Canadian geese flew, honking loudly as they prepared for landing.  Someone started a tractor at the farm at the other end of the field.

            And then there came another sound.  One that she had never heard here before, nor associated with this place.  Though she hoped to one day.

            "Can we go in yet?  The bugs are having a bit of a feast here."

            The simple farm girl turned around, laughing, to witness her boyfriend swatting away a swarm of gnats that had formed in mid-air.

            "Oh you baby!  I told you to put on some bug spray!" she chortled.

            "Whatever!  That stuff stinks!"

            With a sigh she turned back to the west.  A city boy, she should have known.  Or, more along the lines of a "southern metro" boy, but it was still close enough to the cities for her.  They had met at their college, which had been located in downtown St. Paul.  This was the first time that she had brought him to this place, her home. 

            "Just a little further, and then we can go back in."

            "All right.  What are we doing again?" the city boy asked, removing his hat from his head and running his fingers through his curly brown hair.

            She turned to look at him again.  "The view is better up there," was her reply.  She slightly jerked her head up and to the left to indicate the small hill behind her.

            "Okay," he huffed, returning his hat to its place upon his head.

            For a few seconds she stood there, looking at him, with her home in the background.  She liked this picture.  A lot, actually.  There was her old house, the old barn, the granary, pump-house, garage, horse barn, and somewhere in there was the chicken coup (which actually hadn't seen any chickens in a few years).  Indeed, this was nice picture; the two things she loved most in the world, together.

            "Let's run!" she cried, turning quickly and sprinting.

"Run?" her boyfriend croaked, but she was gone much too quickly.  He took off after her.

            The girl ran through the tall grass as fast as she could.  Watching as the silo of the farm down the road suddenly grew bigger as she went up the hill.  Soon another silo, a house, and a barn came into view.  Then the tractor that had been running. 

            It had been so long since she had been able to run like this, with nothing to stop her, no rules to follow.    Her blonde hair fluttered behind her like a flag as she ran into the wind, declaring her own freedom in a way.

            At the top she stopped, her boyfriend coming up behind her.

            "Oh wow.  This is cool," he breathed.  "How much of it is yours?"

            "That large hill over there.  Our land extends to the trees behind it, then down that fence-line and along the edge of the pond until it cuts across right there," she explained, tracing her finger in the air.  "Plus there's a bit more around that's out of our view."

            "How many acres?"

            "A hundred.  Plus we own thirty more down the road," she said, turning and pointing at the field in question.

            The boy whistled.  "You sure can see a lot from up here."

            "You can see even more from that hill back there in the pasture.  It's a much higher point."

            "Wow, you're lucky.  Wish I had this much land growing up."

            "Yeah, but we're way out in the sticks.  There's not much to do around here."

            "I guess."

            The girl sat down cross-legged, facing southeast, and stared at the larger hill.  Her boyfriend sat down beside her.

            "That hill isn't going to be there much longer.  In a couple of years it's going to be ripped up.  My dad sold part of our back pasture to a gravel company."

            "Why'd he do that?" the boy asked in disbelief.

            "We needed the money."

            "How much did you get for it?"

            "One point two million."

            The boy's eyes grew wide with shock.  "You serious?"

            "Yup."

            "Wow.  Hey!  I'm dating a girl with rich parents, then!" he laughed.

            "I suppose," she sighed in reply.

            "Suppose?  That's a lot of money, darlin'!"

            "Yeah, that is a lot of money."

            She turned her head and looked at him, into his eyes.  His eyes matched his hair, brown.  But not just any old dull brown, mind you.  This was by far the most beautiful shade of brown she had ever seen.  He looked back at her, thinking the same thing about her eyes of blue.

            "I wish I could buy it back, though.  Sometimes I think I'd rather still be poor," she spoke, looking away.

            "Oh," he said.  There was a moment of silence between them as they both stared at the hill.  Little black dots moved around upon it, occasionally mooing to one another.

            There then came a voice from down by the fence.  "Dinner's ready!"  It was the girl's mother.

            "Yes!  I'm dying of starvation!" the boy cheered, standing up.

            "Oh whatever!  There are people in third-world countries who eat less than you!" she retorted with small laugh.

            He put his arm around as they made their way too the house. 

            "We should go cow tipping," he suggested.

            "Why do people always want to do that?" she asked.

            "I don't know.  Haven't you done it?"

            "No, truthfully, I never have."