The onset of puberty invariably brings with it the dawning awareness of sexuality, of a childs inherent masculinity or femininity, and the struggle to put that sexuality into proper perspective.
As this story comes to commence, my brother had been doin’ the nasty with my mama for a couple of years. Now, I know in a lot of circles, that this kind of activity is frowned upon in the extreme and extended periods of jail-time are meted out to the practitioners. But I believe it is incumbent upon those who would condemn such societal outliers to weigh all circumstances before striking the gavel of justice down upon them. Fer instance, we reside on a farm in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Out here in the boonies, as they are so quaintly referred, all we’ve got for collective intercourse besides our immediate relations are chickens and a very misanthropic goat. Our mother had suffered from loneliness somethin’ terrible after dad passed and she had taken to tippling on the weekends. She was never a mean drunk but sometimes she would get a little sad.
My Dad hired some itinerant workers who stopped in at the remote hamlet, all of thirty five people, three kilometres from our 82 hectare farm to work on some outbuildings round our dilapidated house. He lived on one floor to suit his ill health. I did too. The sprawling place that was home for Dad, Babushka, my sister who lived upstairs, needed a lot of work doing to it, but the old man could afford it. He was pensioned off from a lucrative government job. My mum died two years ago, leaving him sad but determined to keep up a good appearance both physically and materially.
David was very depressed. His parents had been killed in an airplane accident. Hed been uprooted from his neighborhood and his school and moved out to his grandparents farm. There were no neighbors near the Snyders farm. The nearest house was two miles away and they had no kids his age. The nearest kids his age, outside of his aunts and uncles, lived six miles away. He found that out on the school bus.
I was posed with a dilemma. I wasnt quite between the proverbial rock and
Daddy, can I talk to you?” It was my daughter, Janet who had just turned 16 and is the apple of my eye. She is a beauty, but I could be biased. She stands about 5’4” weighs an athletic 112 lbs., has gorgeous light brown hair and brown eyes to match. Her skin is a deep tan from the early summer sun and her time spent outdoors swimming and gardening on our small acreage.
Tamara Knudson had just turned sixteen years old and she was starting to figure out what being a woman was all about.
It was one of those things where, after hanging out with a guy for a while
To her brother, Phillip, the king had said, as hed stood beside the heir to the throne, on one of the palaces many balconies, One day, my son, for as far as your eye can see, in whichever direction you look, all this shall be yours, just as your word shall be law and your every hearts desire shall be met. To his daughter, Penelope, the king had said, We shall see to it that you marry a worthy and gentle nobleman.
The dust was thick in the still, hot air. The sun blazed across his shoulders and the back of his neck as he swayed with the motion of his scraggly horse. Sweat barely trickled down his face, no longer stinging his eyes or burning his parched lips. His bloodshot eyes swept the desolate brush stretching out across the desert valley, broken here and there by rocky outcrops, and occasional saguaro, or a mirage that promised water but offered only a hot death.