Chapter 6: Lost in Thought The nameless horse continued to graze as Popuris tears fell upon it. She’d finished her drink and left the house not long ago, but she didn’t actually want to leave, so turned to someone she can just stand with, the horse. He wasn’t like any other, he stood tall and sturdy, but unlike the black horse, he didn’t like to be ridden, by anyone other than the pink haired chicken rancher. This confused her; she didn’t understand why she was so special, why only she could ride this strong horse.
Distressed because of the events that had passed today, Popuri decided to go for ride, she hoped that Jack wouldn’t mind, he had finished his work for today, so he would be inside the whole time anyway. Hoping that the horse wouldn’t run away, she carefully swung herself over the horses’ bare back and straightened herself out a bit. Once she thought she was ready, she directed the horse to jump the fence, and leave the farm property, and too a slightly surprised Popuri, he followed her orders. She hugged his neck and praised him, before directing him to go to the Bar.
***
Drinking the last of his milk, the farmer slumped forward on the table, trying to think things over. He didn’t expect an immediate response, but he thought she’d be ready by now; he had given her time to think about it whilst he sorted the animals, what was wrong? He didn’t understand why she had gotten so upset over something like that, he hadn’t yelled at her when she didn’t reply; he’d just walked off to think for a few minutes, nothing bad.
“Oh, why is it like this!?” Jack said aloud, bringing his fist down on the table, the glasses rattling as the table vibrated furiously, as if caught in a snow storm. He raked his brain, to find an answer, a reason, but none came. His mind was frozen in place, much to his dismay, as being “brain-dead” was not something he appreciated. He tried to shake himself mentally, but no motion could recover his old thoughts, and no strength could give him another emotion to feel, but frustration.
His hand reached for the glass, moving at a slow, steady rate, shaking violently, he noticed this as his fingernails reached the cold liquid container, and brought his hand back swiftly, studying it, as if there was a mystery to solve, an ancient riddle to crack. He drew his fingers down his right palm; his hands were cold, and moved at a fast rate, without being instructed to do so. His nail caught the skin, leaving a small line where pressure had been applied, on his ghost like hands, which quickly faded, as if they had never existed. He closed his eyes; this was how he felt, as if he was no longer there.
Jack threw open the door, shaking with a chill on this hot, late spring day. He glanced down at his wristwatch, the numbers rapidly flashing, but he couldn’t understand the numbers which stared up at him. Without thinking, he approached his dazzling black horse, with a mane of silk and hooves that shone and glistened in the afternoon Sun. He approached his black beauty, Midnight, her name was, and flung himself over her bare back, not in the mood, or in the right state to saddle her up. He directed her to leave the farm. Sensing his feeling of emptiness, the animal moved without a fuss, not even daring to walk too quickly, or slowly, or to refuse the action at all. The farmer smiled down at her, even though no feeling of true happiness came, just a false illusion to make him seem proud, please that she had followed his command.
As the two approached the farms exit, he told her to look around for the young horse, the soft brown coloured one, she immediately followed once more, and in a haze of colour, Jack slowly made out the Blue Bar, which now stood before him. He couldn’t remember approaching it, but just accepted the fact that he was losing himself.
He swung open the door, feeling drained of all energy, entering yet another dull world, another moment of misery, frustration, and confusion in his life. The friendly faces of those within the bar looked up at him, and yet another fake smile came upon his face, much less convincing than his last. He sat down on the end of the bar, alone, away from the others. Close enough to hear conversation, and to get involved, but far enough away to signal that he wasn’t in the correct mood to talk with others.
He lay down a small handful of gold on the worktop, and the bar keeper picked it up without saying a word, a look of concern spread across his face, and placed the farmers usual drink down in front of him. He nodded as a thank you, and gently sipped the cold liquid in his large glass.
Muffy emerged from the backroom, her teeth gritted, her face red with rage, anger ready to flood the room. She placed a hand on the farmers shoulder, and squeezed until he flinched with pain.
“You’re a jerk, Jack!” she fumed, slapping his shoulder, making him grip it with pain.
“What did I do?” he asked, straining his throat to speak.
“Why don’t you just ask Popuri?” she yelled loud enough so all in the bar froze, and stared, “She’s the one with tears running down her face, not I.”
“No, your just the one his lit up like a wolverine, ready for take down,” he said, slowly filling with anger, but regretting it when he realised what she had just said to him, Popuri.
The blonde girls face screwed up tight, she was ready to overflow like a volcano, until a pink haired girl emerged from the room, and placed a delicate hand upon her shoulder, “Stop, please, I can take care of this myself.”
Muffy shook herself away, and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. The chicken rancher just stared, then walked towards the door, and then wrapped her fingers around the door handle, pulled down, and motioned to Jack to follow. He sat startled for a moment, but took to his feet, and without realising it, carefully placed his hand over hers.
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