Joan Of Snark Ch 03

The midday sunlight streamed down and made the leaves of the trees and shrubs look like a vibrant emerald green. Joan's loose white cotton dress flapped in the breeze against her legs as she emerged from the woods. The grass was soft under her bare feet as she made her way into the meadow. Across the clearing she could see some grapes hanging from a vine. They were round, plump and enticingly dark. The darker, the sweeter, Joan thought to herself as she approached the grapevine. She reached out and snatched one of the small dark purple spheres off of its stem. She popped it into her mouth and bit down, anticipating the sweet flavor that was sure to follow.

But it was not sweet. Instead, a foul bitterness overwhelmed her tongue. Joan immediately spit the grape out into her hand and looked down. She studied the piece of half chewed food. Looking more closely, she realized that there was some sort of an insect - possibly a beetle - embedded in the flesh of the fruit.

Joan tossed the spoiled grape onto the ground and picked another one off of the vine. Rather than putting it into her mouth right away, Joan decided instead to pull it apart with her fingernails. In the second grape, much to her disappointment, was another beetle. That's strange, Joan thought as she tossed it on the grass. She grabbed a third, a fourth and a fifth grape - tearing each one open in order to see the inside. And sure enough, burrowed at the center of each and every grape was an pesky little beetle. Joan heaved a disgusted sigh as she plucked and ripped apart a sixth inedible grape.

She stomped all over the ruined grapes, squishing the flesh of the fruit and the insects between her bare toes. As she ground the skins and the juice into the ground with the soles of her feet, she heard the grass behind her crunch several times. She turned to see who was there.

A goat entered the meadow out of the dark woods. Its thick long horns growing out of the back of its head curved toward its neck. Its fur was coarse and grey except for a soft white patch around its neck. It stared at her.

Joan hesitantly approached the goat. It did not move. It merely looked at her. She moved closer to it and tentatively patted it on the head. But the goat gave no reaction. It did not move a muscle. She decided to ignore the animal and went back to searching for a grape that was safe to eat.

However, before she could pick any more fruit, she heard an urgent rustling noise behind her. She spun around to see that the grey goat was no longer still. It was charging right at her. Its nostrils flared and it ears stuck straight out from the sides of its head. Joan screamed and took off running in the opposite direction.

She dashed back into the dark woods at the other end of the meadow. Twigs and rocks dug into the bare bottoms of her feet. It was painful, but she could not afford to stop. The goat came tearing through the trees after her not far behind. It was gaining on her. Joan pushed herself to move faster. As she sprinted through the foliage, she could hear the thumping of hooves pounding against the ground. The thumping was getting louder. The goat was getting nearer. What on earth had she done to provoke it?

Up ahead, Joan could see the sunlight getting brighter behind some trees. There must be another clearing, she thought to herself. Joan was not sure if entering another meadow would be to her advantage. But she had no choice, since that was the direction she was headed anyway. So she raced toward the treeline.

As Joan came bursting out from the woods, she could see that it was not a meadow she had run into, but a barren strip of land just a few meters from the edge of a cliff. Where should she go? Having few options and no time to consider them, Joan simply veered off to the left and kept running.

A few moments later, the goat leapt out from the trees. Joan silently prayed that it would just keep going and run straight off of the cliff. But no such luck. It also turned left and galloped after the teenage girl.

It was right behind her now. The clomping of its hooves on the dry rocky ground sounded like the goat was less than a meter away. Joan tried to speed up, but the animal was too fast. She tried in vein to outrun it, but she felt a sharp pull as she was suddenly yanked backward. The goat had clamped onto the back of her skirt with its teeth and it would not let go.

As Joan tried the wrestle her dress away from the goat, the stubborn animal began pulling even harder. It violently shook its head and Joan could hear the tearing of fabric. As the goat backed up, jerking its head from side to side, it tore the dress from Joan's body, leaving her completely naked.

"No!" Joan cried. "Give it back!"

The animal opened its jaw and released the garment from its mouth, dropping it onto the dusty ground. However, before Joan had a chance to retrieve her only attire, a giant gust of wind picked up her flimsy frock, lifting it high up and out of reach. While in midair, the the bright white material fluttered around like a flag in the breeze. As it twisted and danced above their heads, the cotton shift seemed to take on a life of its own, right before a strong current of air carried it over the side of the cliff.

"Oh no!" Joan wailed in despair. "My dress! What am I going to do?"

Suddenly the goat let out the most horrible noise. It was not unlike like the bleating of a sheep. But it was more shrill and high pitched. It was almost as if the goat was laughing at her.

"What's so funny?" Joan yelled. "You lost my clothes!"

However, Joan could not reprimand the goat for long. Because soon it began charging at her once again. Joan turned around and resumed running, hoping that the animal would either tire or lose interest in chasing her.

As Joan ran parallel to the treeline, not far from the cliff's edge, she noticed a flash of color not far up ahead. A patch of brownish orange fur was situated at the edge of the woods. As she ran past it, she realized that it was an auburn colored goat, which was standing in front of the trees. Oh god, not another goat, she thought to herself. Is it going to chase me too, she wondered.

As she passed the red goat and got a few meters away from it, suddenly the trotting of hooves behind her ceased. She continued run a few more feet and then turned her head to glance over her shoulder. The grey goat had stopped charging at her. It had slowed to a stop, turned to the left, and made its way over to the russet colored goat.

Joan gradually came to a halt and watched her pursuer approached its tawny counterpart. Though she was standing at a distance, Joan could see something small and white situated next to the larger copper colored animal. It was a baby goat. And it was drinking milk from the red goat. As Joan watched the infant suckle on one of its mother's teats, she deduced that the slate colored goat was most likely the father. Maybe that's why he had chased Joan and attacked her. Perhaps he was protecting his family. Joan forgot about her nudity for a moment and silently observed the peaceful scene of familial harmony taking place in front of her. The grey male walked over to the white baby and softly nuzzled it with its snout. The baby continued to drink. Joan was touched by the surprisingly tender gesture.

Then, without warning, the large buck clamped its teeth around the nursing kid's neck. He tore the babe away from its mother's udder. The offspring let out a pitiful cry as it was brutally tossed onto the ground. Its mother appeared to be strangely unaffected. Then, to Joan's horror, the grey billy began to stomp all over the baby, causing it to emit the most terrible screams. As the adult male drove its hooves into the helpless little one, the baby goat's fur turned from white to pink, and eventually red, soaked with its own blood.

Horrified, Joan could not look away from the gory infanticide. She took a big step backward, wanting to get away from the gruesome happening. The white goat continued to struggle until finally it received a fatal kick to the head by its supposed father.

"No!" Joan screamed. "What have you done?"

Both adult goats turned their heads and looked up at the naked girl. The smokey colored buck turned its body and squarely faced Joan. It backed up slightly and began to paw the ground with its left hoof. It was getting ready to charge at her again.

"Please no!" Joan pleaded. "Stop!"

She took another big step back. However, she had not been looking where she was stepping. As she went to put her foot down behind her, there was nothing there. Joan had reached the edge of the cliff. And now it was too late. She had already shifted her weight back and there was no ground there to support her. She plummeted backward and fell through the air. She let out a piercing shriek as she plunged downward. There was nothing she could do. She was completely helpless as gravity carried her toward her the ground far far below. .

"Joanie wake up! You're going to be late for school."

Joan opened her eyes and sat up in bed.

"Did you not set your alarm? Joanie, you're eighteen years old, for Heaven's sake. You shouldn't have to rely on me to wake you up in the morning," her mother scolded her.

"Sorry, I don't know what happened," Joan said in a trembling voice.

"Joanie, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine, Mom. I just had a weird nightmare."

"Well, it was just a dream. You're safe now. Hurry up and get ready for school." Her mother exited Joan's bedroom, walked down the hall and descended the stairs.

Joan inhaled a shaky breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead. What on earth had that been all about? Joan was not a big believer in dream interpretation. She figured that dreams were just leftover thoughts and images patched together by the subconscious in random meaningless ways.

But her nightmare had felt so real. And it had been terrifying. Was her psyche trying to tell her something? Was her unconscious mind trying to punish her for some reason? Deep down inside, maybe Joan felt more guilty than she wanted to admit about trying to seduce Father Ben. Her behavior the night before had not exactly been modest. And even though she did not consider premarital sex to be a sin, Father Ben had taken vows of celibacy. And she had tried to get him to break those vows. Maybe she owed him an apology. Perhaps that would make her feel better. If she could unburden herself of any feelings of guilt, it might prevent any more future night terrors.

Joan was not scheduled to work at the rectory that evening. But maybe she could drop by that night after dinner. She would tell Father Ben that she was sorry for her actions during their supper together. And that from now on she would make sure that their relationship was strictly platonic and professional. Certainly that would put her mind at ease and allow her to sleep more peacefully.

Joan quickly dressed and gobbled down some breakfast. Before she left the house for school, she noticed the church newsletter sitting on the table in the front hall. She saw on the schedule that Father O'Connor was supposed to be hearing confessions that evening. Father O'Connor was in the hospital with some sort of mysterious undiagnosed malady. Which meant that Father Ben would be listening to confessions instead.

That was perfect, Joan thought to herself. Even though she was an atheist, confession would be an ideal time to offer Father Ben a sincere apology. And promise him that she would never do anything inappropriate toward him ever again.

As Joan hurriedly made her way to school, her mind drifted back to the evening before at the rectory. She thought about what it had felt like to kiss Father Ben. His mouth. His lips. His tongue. She also thought about his hands. His fingers. The way he had touched her. The way he had stroked and caressed her. She remembered how good it had felt.

But none of that mattered, she reminded herself sternly. He was a priest and she needed to respect his vows of chastity. That evening during confession, she would apologize to Father Ben and promise to never come onto him again. However, if Joan was being truly honest with herself, she was not really sure if she could actually keep that promise. But she would try.