Exercise 4, Wendy Uzzell

Rusted metal, rubber tires and various mechanical parts moved in close formation down the rutted track to the windward leaning barn, leaving solitary tracks on the rain swept dirt. It hadn’t rained for two days. Dragging the rough planked door open, a wall of fecund odors and a crescendo in the symphony of need assaulted her. Dozens of eyes walled at the sudden glare of light pouring in and metal gates clanged in the surge of excitement. The light revealed empty feed sacks discarded in the corner. Climbing the ladder to the hay mow showed only dancing motes on sunbeams, rafters filled with mud daubed nests and bare floor. She turned and searched again to see if in her desperation she had been struck blind. Damn him, nothing and no one to help her, again.