Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PROCRASTINATE (08/04/16)
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TITLE: Eden's Anathema | Previous Challenge Entry
By Don Buschert
08/09/16 -
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He wasn't used to hard labour. He was a Venusian. Sophisticated. Cultured. An artisan. He built musical instruments. Guitars, sitars and violins. What did he know about cutting lumber? He was exhausted. This wood cutting can wait, he thought.
Gunny reached into his pack and pulled out the hammock. Next to the shed were two posts, conveniently placed. He strung up the hammock to the posts, kicked off his boots and climbed into the netting. He slowly exhaled, his tired muscles relaxed as he sipped a hydrating beverage.
This is the life, he thought.
It was early afternoon, up above him shone the great gold orb, always shrouded behind the thick cream-coloured clouds that surrounded this planet. Gunny closed his eyes. He missed Venus. The station. His old friends. His old life. He didn't miss the persecution and risk of banishment or even death. He was one of the fortunate ones. He managed to escape through the Gateway.
He really should be grateful. That's why he's here on Eden, Gunny reminded himself. To escape all that, and start a new life. Thing is, this new life wasn't turning out to be all that enjoyable. There was always so much to be done, and no time to do anything he enjoyed. He was always exhausted, always trying to keep up with the settlers demands. He didn't want to run a lumberyard. The pace was too fast, deadlines unreasonable. What's the hurry anyway? The homes will get built soon enough, Gunny told himself. He’ll get a nap in and deal with the lumber later.
The warm gentle sunlight on his face coupled with the side to side swaying of the hammock caused him to quickly drift off. Soon Gunny was snoring.
Some time later, two large, well-built men arrived at the lumberyard, both towing a wagon. Seeing Gunny fast asleep on the hammock, and also noticing very little of the logs cut, the two men exchanged mischievous grins.
"Uffe," said one. "He's sleeping on the job."
"Yes Rave," said the other. "We'll have to teach the old boy a lesson."
The two men walked up to the hammock and stood over Gunny, one on each side, both staring down into Gunny's peaceful sleeping cherubic face.
"Should we rock and flip him?" whispered Uffe.
"We should douse him with water, then flip him," whispered Raven.
The two men grabbed wooden buckets and took turns slowly and silently filling them up at the large cistern under the shed roof. With big smiles they returned, quietly tiptoeing, carefully carrying their buckets.
"On three," mouthed Uffe. He mouthed out the count as both men swung their buckets in time over Gunny's sleeping frame.
With a dual splash, the men dumped the water over Gunny's head. Startled, Gunny awoke, thrashing around in the netting. That was the effect Uffe and Raven were hoping for, in the confusion one man pulled up on one end of the hammock, the other pulled down, throwing poor Gunny into a spin.
Gunny screamed, half awake, incoherent and wholly unprepared for the unfolding prank. His large body flipped back and forth sideways in the hammock netting a few times as the two men stood back and had a good laugh. Finally, gravity won out and Gunny fell out of the netting, rear end first, landing hard on the muddy soil with a thud. Both his legs remained entangled in the netting above.
He groaned in pain, lying there in the mud, looking up at the two men.
"Hey, where's our load of lumber?" asked Raven, arms folded, towering over him. “It was supposed to be done today. We’ve got houses to build Gunny.”
Gunny didn’t respond, and remained motionless, face down in the mud.
“Look,” said Uffe, with a compassionate tone in his voice. “Sorry about the rude awakening. We’ll help you get this lumber cut. We’re all Believers here and we need to work together to build this new world. Sleeping on the job? Not good.”
At that, Gunny rolled over and looked up at the two men. Both had outstretched arms. So Gunny reached out and grabbed their arms and with a wry, sardonic smile; and having the advantage of the portlier stature, pulled both men down into the mud.
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One red ink. When he fell out of the hammock, it seems to me he lands hard on his butt with legs still up. But then you say later that he is face down in the mud. Maybe it is my mis interpretation rather than your change of positioning?
At any rate, I thoroughly enjoyed the reading.
Claire