May I present a short, strange story about a thankless job.

It’s called:

Farmer

— 

We rise with the sun. They rise with the night. And the first step is always to make sure they do not breach the earth. We feed the soil. We water them as best we can. But they still grow out of the ground at the rate they do. So we chop off the exposed parts and force them back.

It’s arduous work. Difficult work. We often felt like we could be lazy. A single finger is not a danger. A single hand is not cause for alarm. We could take a day to rest. We could not rise with the sun to the crowing of the ravens, and the screams from nowhere. We could not take our knives and our tools and march out into the sunlight, and hack until the bones expose and the rest shrinks back underneath the ground.

We thought we could. We tried. And now there is only two of us. And we now know to not be lazy. And we remember why our family rises at sunlight. And why our family always has, for all the years the fingers poked through the earth, made sure to hold back the demons of the old world.

—

Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, Michael The Comic Nerd,  Pulsatilla Pratensis, and Thomas J. West.

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