Susan and her Family - 1

 The Words for Wednesday are up on Elephant's Child's blog long before Wednesday comes to my little part of the world. But I wait until my Wednesday before posting. 
  Once again the words are given to us by Margaret Adamson and her friend Sue Fulcher.
  None of the words: Orange  - Dizzy - Perpendicular - Languishing - Virtuous - Theatre - Pedestrian - Laconic - Stable - Typewriter - Dashing - Branches  wanted to become part of the story. In the end I forced two of them to participate: Dizzy and Stable. The rest just have to wait. 


  For four days they were all busily at work thatching the roof.
  After work, Susan and Linda played with the two cousins and their friends. They walked Granny's dog, a collie, who was old and a bit mad. It was often trying to bite people, and once Lena, the youngest of the cousins, had bitten its tail in return. Susan loved the dog, and were almost always at good terms with it.
  Only once ... Susan was smaller then, it was winter and the streets had been frozen. She had been asked to walk Minor alone - once upon a time a cat named Major had lived with Granny too, but it was long gone. The walk had been fine, Minor had done what it was supposed to, and they were almost home when a cat ran past. Minor totally lost it and gave chase whit Susan hanging on for dear life sliding over the road and into a stone wall, until the leash broke. She went limping back to Granny, who said that it was a good thing that the leash had broken, "And if it ever happens again, just let go of him, he'll return when he gets hungry." She washed Susan's hands and legs, and sent her out to play again. But now Susan was older and heavier, she was not pulled over when Minor found something interesting, and funnily Minor never ever tried biting Susan.

  Tuesday in the late afternoon they played Find the matchbox. Susan was hot, and she was angry. She could never find the hidden matchbox. Everybody but her had seen the matchbox and sat down to tell they had found it. Susan was the last one. She was the youngest too, as Linda had made herself scarce when work was over.
  Lena hid the matchbox, and all the girls swarmed into Auntie G's living room. Susan decided that she would NOT be the last one to sit this time. But she could not find the box, no matter how much she looked. Two of the larger girls sat down, then Helen too. Susan slowly pivoted around, looking up and down, and then she too sat down. Cousin Lena called her out: "Susan, where is the matchbox?" O course Susan did not know. She had not found the box. But calling people out in this game was just not done. Susan felt ashamed of cheating, and yet she felt unfairly treated. She just sat.
  In the end Auntie G came and carried her into the kitchen. "Yes, Susan, all the girls are older than you. This just means you've got to be smarter." Susan stayed with Auntie G in the kitchen for a long time. Auntie G grabbed her guitar and started playing The Riddle Song. "Do you remember the words?" Auntie G asked.
  Susan began singing, and she remembered almost all the words of the song from the other night.
  "It is an old song." Auntie G said. "It was written more than 200 years ago, but I did nor learn it until a few weeks ago. I'll have to leave soon. Tonight is my night to go to the rehearsal and play music."
  Susan went down to Granny's house. No one was in the kitchen, darkness was falling, and Susan continued down the path, down towards the water. Today she was the one to have become wet, and her favorite dress hung on the clothes line just past the house. She felt very much alone. The happenings with the gargoyle and the werewolves could have been a dream.
  She went down the path, and the moon, gibbous now, rose over the trees down by the water. Susan felt something wet touch her hand and she sat down, dizzy with fear. Then she saw Minor, the faithful dog in the waning light. "Oh, boy, did you scare me!" Susan said, kneeling and caressing the dog. "Come, walk with me. I have to get my dress."  Together Minor and Susan walked the short distance to the clothes line, Susan's hand entwined in Minor's long hair. A bright rectangle of light fell from the window of the smelly outhouse next to the old barn, and Susan found it harder to see the ground. But the clothes line was close to the outhouse. It looked strangely foreign, misshapen in the evening light. And when Susan got closer, she saw four round eyes staring at her. Susan stared back. Eyes, here? Yellow green eyes opened and closed, and then with a penetrating hoo-hoo-hoooo! an owl alighted from the line, swooshed soundlessly over Susan's head, barely clearing the hen house, and flew off towards the river. The other owl still sat at the line.
  "Good evening, Owl!" Susan said. "Do not let me disturb you. I'd like to have my dress, but you can stay where you are, if you like. Your friend sat on my dress, you don't." The owl looked at Susan, and opened both eyes widely. Then it opened it's beak and hooted softly at her. The owl moved a bit further towards the end of the line, and Susan gathered her courage, patted Minor, and walked the two steps up to the line. Her legs felt heavy as lead, and her arms were heavy too. She slowly raised them, opened the pegs, and retrieved her dress. She bowed to the owl. "Good night and good hunting!" she said softly. The owl stretched its wings silently, folded them back together and hooted once more softly in reply. Minor slunk off to his favourite spot near the door, and Susan went into the house, from which she now heard laughter and people talking.