June 18, 2017
This is my third contribution to the English section of Literotica. "Monster!" and "Dalmatian" were the first two. If you like this story, I'm sure you'll like those even better.
If you have read some of my work, you know this will be a slow story in which I try to paint a believable tale of love between two individuals that happen to be family. There will be action but this isn't a stroker, this is a tale of desperate love.
I decided to add this story because I received so much positive feedback from the previous two. It is a translation of "Zwermvogels", a story I published a few months ago in the Dutch section of Literotica.
I know translations are not popular because of the errors and unreadable sentences but I have had it edited by the same American editor who edited "Monster!" and "Dalmatian" so, please, try me out.
If you don't like it, please let me know. If you do like it, please, also let me know ;-)
Anyway, have fun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Good dog!" I said as I gently petted Buck while he was jumping around my legs.
We were walking towards the meadows that lay outside of the village of Utrecht, Netherlands, near the small village where I had lived for my whole life.
The knotted willow trees, in rows along the sides of the ditches, were beginning to sprout as spring was approaching. In the shadows, little patches of snow still remained from the previous night's snowfall but, as the pale early spring sun was warming fast, it would be melted away before noon.
My eyes followed the little clouds of condensed breath that were formed as I exhaled the cold morning air, I threw a stick as far as I could and watched Buck happily chasing it.
Above me, a flock of birds was returning, for the summer, from faraway places. I watched them and marveled about the simplicity of the few mathematical rules that made the flock move as one being and each individual bird conforming to that simple, but graceful, set of rules.
The farm I was walking to belonged to Herman, an old farmer living near us. He sold fresh eggs, for a good price, that tasted far better than eggs from the supermarket.
I was walking along the side of a ditch, towards the little group of willows at the end, which bordered the courtyard of Herman's farm. Buck was jumping enthusiastically beside me, pushing his stick into my hands, and urging me to continue playing with him.
Smiling, I gave in and threw his stick towards the willows. Buck chased it, barking happily, and I watched his stupid gallop as he ran through the shoots of frozen mist, patches of grass and mud splashing up from his clumsy catamount. I laughed, silently, as I watched him running through the fields...he was so adorable!
************
Herman was sitting on his porch with a small, crumpled cigarette butt between his yellowed fingers and he greeted me as I was walking towards him.
"Good morning, Floor! Having a nice stroll?" he asked me with his deep, old voice.
Buck enthusiastically jumped around Herman's feet and soon got his reward. Herman always had some treats for him and, as he threw a few, Buck started searching for the chunks, sniffing and chewing as if he hadn't been fed and was starved.
After he was sure he had found the last one, he curled up at Herman's feet, satisfied, yawning and resting his head on Herman's feet.
As I sat beside Herman, we both looked at the endless meadows. He lit his cigarette butt again, inhaled deeply and exhaled while he looked at me.
"It's going to be a beautiful day," he said with his raspy old voice.
I looked at him, nodded, picked a blade of grass and gently rolled it between my fingertips.
"It's pleasantly cool, the air is fresh and the birds are returning again. It's almost spring," I said softly.
I absorbed the perfect tranquility of the moment as I inhaled the cold spring air, filled with the scent of tobacco and the smells of the farm.
************
My brother and I had spent many summers, at Herman's farm, playing in the haystacks and helping Herman with little chores. We always received a reward for our work. 'A bob for the job', as Herman called it and, as we grew older, we always had a summer job there, cleaning stables, feeding the cows and pigs.
Looking back, he paid us too much for what we did but, at the time, we didn't realize it. We thought we were doing a great job but later realized Herman just appreciated us being around.
Eventually, when we became older, our parents explained to us why Herman was always alone...long ago, his wife and son had died in a car crash and he had never gotten over them. Suddenly, we understood the melancholy that always surrounded Herman and the way he appreciated us being there, silently watching us doing our tasks as if we were a shadow of what could have been.
That day, Buck and I walked to Herman's farm and I sat, silently, beside him. Ever since that day, I have visited him a few times a week, at least. I really liked the old man and felt so sorry for what had happened.
************
"How's Thomas doing?"
He had thoughtlessly asked about Thomas but I knew how much he liked him, probably because he reminded him of his own son.
"Thomas is doing really well. In about six months he'll be a graduated engineer," I answered, smiling and proud of my older brother.
Thomas was attending the University of Delft, studying engineering. He had been living on his own for four years and, although he often visited us, I missed him tremendously!
Herman nodded. "Good! And you?"
I stared at the meadows for a while. I was in my senior year of high school and fear grasped my heart as I had no idea what to do with my future life.
"Oh, it's going well, I guess. I'm in my senior year."
I watched a flock of sparrows as Herman flicked the remains of his cigarette butt into the bushes that were surrounding his porch. Thoughtlessly, he started rolling a new one from his pouch of tobacco.
"You want something to drink?" he asked, without looking.
He licked the edge of the cigarette paper and closed his freshly rolled cigarette.
"Yes, please," I answered, looking at him as he lit his cigarette. Herman laughed his old, raspy laugh and coughed while exhaling smoke
"Good, then you can also get me a glass of milk!"
I started laughing.
"My lord, what a good host you are!"
I stood up and walked into his house. His kitchen seemed ages old. Everything was in brown and orange colors, as if the seventies never ended, and it was a mess...pots and pans everywhere! I must admit, it was clean but, my lord, what a mess!
I filled two glasses with milk and, as I sat down beside him, handed him his glass.
"Look over there," he whispered and pointed in the direction of the old duck decoy.
In Holland, one could find many duck decoys on the flat, never ending meadows with small groups of trees in the middle and curving, tapering ditches to lure ducks. They were protected reminders of past times and accommodate a variety of small wildlife.
I had to look for a while but then I saw them, a small group of foxes were playing in the early morning sun at the edge of the foliage.
"Beautiful!" I whispered and I sipped my milk.
