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‘Squeeze the Clouds’

01 Monday Jan 2024

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My family have been living off the land for over five generations breeding sheep for their wool on a remote farm out Mudgee way in the northern tablelands of NSW Australia.

Since 1860 we have produced some of the finest fleece in the state and living out here dealing with wild dogs attacking the livestock and flies that swarm around your face making being outside in the heat a complete misery.

It is almost Christmas 2020 and we are in the middle of a big drought and my daddy is struggling to water the sheep not to mention providing the precious liquid to the farmhouse.

All of the dams and waterholes are bone dry because it hasn’t rained out this way for over four years now and if it doesn’t arrive I am afraid that my daddy might have to sell the family farm and move into town that is about 200 kilometres away as the crow flies.

My name is Rodney Swain and I just turned ten years old, my family is hurting bad all because of the lack of water.

At school it is hard to concentrate when I am sad all of the time so every now and then I would wish that I could climb a giant ladder and reach up into the sky and squeeze the clouds until they cry but so far my wishes have gone unheard because when I get home the sun is still beating down baking the earth causing the once lush paddocks to turn brown which causes my daddy to buy feed for the sheep that only adds to the misery.

At night thunderstorms would gather turning the sky black with menace threatening to send down a torrent of rain and my heart would fill with joy as I waited for the rain drops to hit the corrugated roof on our house but just like always the clouds would soon disappear without unleashing a single drop.

The only sound that I heard that night was the sound of an old rusty air conditioner trying its best to keep the heat at bay.

My family really needs some rain to fill the water tanks, dams and creeks on our property but we aren’t the only ones suffering, every farmer in the state are battling to pay the bills and keep the wolves at bay.

I wish I could join two giant ladders together put them on top of three tractors and hopefully than I will be tall enough to reach up and squeeze the clouds until they cry a steady drizzle of rain.

Doesn’t God know that people on the land have suffered enough, all they want is a fair go and some bloody rain.

Every morning I wake up with my sheets drenched in sweat, why does summer have to be so hot?

I know that farmers rely on the sun to grow their crops to help feed the nation and provide their animals with grass to fill their stomachs but the last few years have been a living hell so please God give us some rain and I promise to be a good boy and help mummy with the dishes.

All we need is some precipitation to soak into the ground to help us keep our sheep alive and provide money to the farmers all over the region so they can feed their families and pay their suppliers.

For four years the country has been sweltering under heatwave conditions with the temperature again forecast to hit 43 degrees again tomorrow and the following weeks,

The weather lady on the TV predicts the weather with a smile on her face.

How can she smile when farmers all over are killing themselves because they can see no other way out?

All because the clouds refuse to yield.

Maybe if I join three giant ladders together put them on top of four tractors and park them on top of five barns I will be able to reach up and squeeze the clouds until they weep.

Another three months have passed and still the clouds refuse to budge.

All of the farmers around the region are strong working 16 hours a day seven days a week but this drought is a bastard and I believe that even the strongest will finally break if we don’t get any rain.

Maybe if I join four giant ladders together put them on top of five tractors that I will park on six barns that I stack on top of seven farmhouses than maybe I could stand up on tippy toe to reach up and squeeze the clouds until they burst.

Another month has passed without any rain.

Maybe if I join five giant ladders together put them on top of six tractors that I park on seven barns that I put on the roof of eight barns that I put on top of nine skyscrapers I can finally reach up and squeeze the clouds and make them cry a river.

All of my prayers and wishes have been ignored because still those arsehole clouds refuse to budge no matter how hard I squeeze.

Sorry about the swear word but I am extremely frustrated and please don’t tell mummy and daddy that I swore because then I would be sent to bed without any dessert and tonight we are having homemade apple pie.

That night I went to bed with a full belly but my heart was still heavy with sadness and it took me quite a while to fall asleep.

‘RODNEY’ I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard mummy hollering my name but I was even more startled to find myself on the roof of our farmhouse jumping up and down performing a rain dance.

‘Get down from there right this second young man or I will give you a hiding that you will never forget.’

I ignore my mother and begin to pray ‘Okay God this is your last fucking chance, if you don’t make it rain this second I will take you off my Christmas card list and I will also refuse to go to church for a whole year so get off your high horse and give the clouds a squeeze because they are right next to heaven so they should be in easy reach.

And do you know what?

The clouds turned black in anger and unleashed a torrent of rain that made me scurry back inside ‘Thank you God now you can go back and help other people in need.

Two months later.

Hey God me again, can you please stop the rain.

The area is completely flooded and our family home is almost under water so could you please stop what you are doing at the moment and tell the clouds that I am sorry for squeezing them so hard but enough is enough so please bring back the sunshine.

It hasn’t stopped raining for going on sixty days and I think I just saw Noah’s ark float by.

Please God we are desperate.

Yours Sincerely

Rodney Swain.

                     THE END.

Ancestor’s Bones

20 Saturday May 2017

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On the edge of the wind swept moors of southern Scotland lies an isolated group

of villages.

The villages are known for its prime beef and spring lambs.

It is also one of the wettest places on earth.

Where hardly a day goes by that it doesn’t rain.

All of the water flows into the Smyth river that winds among the villages providing

the locals with fish and crabs.

And because of all the rain the river floods every five years or so.

It has been four years since the last flood so an overflow is due.

On the bank of the river is the local cemetery that has served the locals needs since

1266.

The rich and the poor are buried beside each other their tombstones point to the sky

to mark their final resting place.

Some of the deceased were village elders while some others were just ordinary folk.

Together they lie in peace and harmony.

But that peace is about to be broken.

All of the villagers are huddled inside beside their fires keeping out of the weather.

It is raining again today just like yesterday and the day before.

In fact it hasn’t stopped raining for twenty days now.

And the river Smyth has turned into a torrent.

In the cemetery the water table is rising rapidly and the coffins are beginning to float.

Slowly inch by inch they are making their way to the surface.

And after a midnight downpour they finally break through.

Where they sparkle under the dark sky.

Still the water level is rising until the river floods the landscape.

The coffins begin to bob and dance in the water.

And then one by one they are all swept away.

The coffins are swept down stream where they side swipe each other and begin

to break apart.

The contents spill into the water and the bones float together in the murky human

remains soup.

Some of the bones are swept away but most somehow make it to the shore.

Where they begin to crawl.

Thousands of bones have reached the bank .

They climb up onto the grass and start to inter mingle searching for the right DNA.

And like a human jigsaw puzzle the bones fall into place.

The bones fuse together into misshapen skeletons and start to stroll towards the villages.

They slowly shuffle forward sniffing the air seeking out their still living ancestors.

It is slow going because a lot of the skeletons are missing arms and legs.

But eventually the bones find the homes of their kin.

And the enter through the walls.

Mary Alcott is still grieving.

Her Mother Kate died from the black lung disease three months ago.

Mary is worn out sad and al alone in the world she can barely function.

Why did her mother have to die?

Mary Alcott hangs her head and starts to weep.

The tears freeze on her cheeks.

A sound is coming from her mothers old bedroom upstairs.

Her mother used to sit in a rocking chair while she did her needlepoint.

Mary’s skips and misses a beat as she rushes up the stairs.

When she opens the bedroom door her mouth gapes open.

While her chin hits the floor.

A collection of human bones is sitting in the rocking chair.

Back and forth it creaks.

Mary inches forward ‘Mother is that you?’

She takes a deep breath and moves even closer to that chair.

Her eyes bulge until they almost pop.

A version of her mother is sitting there doing some unfinished needle point.

Mary screams out the lords name.

Her mother gives Mary a twisted smile of welcome and tries to speak.

But all that comes out is the stench of death.

Mary is torn between love and repulsion.

She starts to move forward than takes a step back.

But she isn’t quite quick enough.

Her mothers leaps out of the chair and smothers Mary in a loving embrace.

Mary wants to pull back but she is strangely drawn towards the collection

of her mothers bones.

She has missed her mother so much.

So she surrenders to the touch.

She lets out a gasp as her mothers bones begin to fuse with her own.

Mary is Kate and Kate is Mary.

Mother and daughter are re-united once again.

In all of the villages near the cemetery the bones of  the dead are on the march.

They will soon visit their ancestors to begin life once again.

There is no use in resisting because the bones wont be denied.

Soon every home in the vicinity is visited by the bones of their dead.

And all is well.

Because there is no reason to be afraid.

Just remember that when you crack your knuckles or your bones start to creak.

It is just the bones of your ancestors saying hello.

So look after your bones.

Drink a lot of milk and treat your ancestors well.

Because if you don’t your soul will become your ancestors to sell.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END

Electricland

26 Sunday Apr 2015

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I live in a place called Electricland

Where the night sky is lit up with street

lights

Where every major intersection is

controlled by traffic lights.

You go inside flick a switch

and there would be light

Open the fridge door

and there would be light.

You turn on the oven to cook

a meal

You use the washing machine

to wash some clothes

It is hot so you turn on the fan

It is cold so you turn on the heater.

Electricland is a happy place

lit up like a Christmas tree

everywhere you go is electricity

It buzzs down the wires

into every home and business.

Along with money it makes the world

go round.

But them the world went crazy

the wind howled at a category two

The rain came causing flooding and chaos

Trees were falling like ten pins

Crushing cars houses and I am sorry

to say people.

Electricland is in mourning

it is blanketed in darkness

Sirens fill the air with there piercing

sound.

And you know that someone is in trouble.

Day after day the wind and the rain ruled

our lives.

The traffic lights go down

there is chaos in the streets

The street lights go down

and you cant find your way.

The oven is cold

You flick a switch and nothing happens

Open the fridge door and there is a bit of

a smell.

No TV no music

You sit in the darkness

The only light comes from something

that they call a candle.

Electricland is in decline

The Beer is hot the food is cold

People wander around in a daze

No playstation xbox and all the rest

What is a person supposed to do.

But then the wind died down

and the rain stopped

Everybody is celebrating

But it is still dark

But behind the scenes men and

women in Orange vests and White

hard hats are busy at work

They work for the electric company

They do something with the wires

Perform a miracle or two

And there is light

Electricland is shining bright

The darkness is a thing of the past

It just goes to show that you don’t know

how much you miss something

until it is gone.

street lights.

And every major intersection is

controlled by traffic lights.

You can go inside flick a switch

and there would be light.

Open the fridge door

and there would be light.

You turn on the oven to cook a meal

Turn on the washing machine

to wash some clothes.

It is hot so you turn on the fan

It is cold so you turn on the heater.

You pick up the remote control

and turn on the TV

You pick up the remote

to play your favourite DVD

You pick up the remote

to listen to your music

Electricland is a happy place

lit up like a Christmas tree

Everywhere you go is electricity

It buzzs down the wires

into every home and business

It makes the world go round.

But then the world went crazy

The wind howled at a Category two

The rain causes flooding and chaos

Trees fall like ten pins

Crushing houses cars and I am sorry

to say people

Electricland is in mourning

it is blanketed in darkness

Sirens fill the air with their piercing

sound.