Hennessy the Shepherdess- Chapter 1

Chapter 1

                “So I enjoyed your essay. You can tell that your sheep were really a passion for you.”

                The voice jarred Hennessy from her thoughts as she stared at the chrysanthemum bed. The many colored hues reminded her of her mother’s flower beds at home. With a little jump, Hennessy glanced up at the brown haired boy standing next to her, Adam, one of the members of her critique group in English class. He had a small, nervous smile on his face and was fiddling with the straps of his black backpack.

                “Thanks!” Hennessy responded. “I really enjoyed your essay too. You described the impact of soccer in such a way that I feel a little bit let down about my own soccer career.”

                “I thought you were pretty cool before. This cements it,” Adam teased with a widening smile on his face.

                “If I knew all I needed to do to succeed in college is play little league soccer, why did I do everything else? I could have saved myself so much stress, plus been in such good shape,” Hennessy sighed dramatically, but quickly giggled and smiled up at Adam from her perch on the cement wall bordering the garden.

                “Why do I get the feeling I am being mocked?” Adam deadpanned, then smiled as he continued, “So you were quite the Renaissance woman. You grew up on a farm, you won a sheep show, played soccer… Is there anything that you can’t do?”

                “Well, I was not so successful at debate club. It was kind of a bust. I received straight 5’s from all of the judges at the region impromptu contest. That is not a good score. Drama wasn’t much better. I had a small part in the play as a reporter, but that year the drama director pretty much let everyone who tried out have a part. I grew up in a small town, so I pretty much had the opportunity to try everything. Pretty much the only thing I didn’t do was sing or play an instrument that actually required something besides my hands and arms to play.”

                At his puzzled look, she continued, “I played the piano and various keyboard instruments during my band career. All of my friends played either woodwinds or brass instruments. I preferred to hit things. I was quite the awesome cymbal player in marching band. It definitely helped my popularity.”

                Adam chuckled, “I went to a huge high school, so I mostly just played soccer and sang in the choir. It was kind of hard to stand out, I was just one of the many and we had to stick with one or two things. I envy your ability to try so many things.”

                Hennessy smiled. “I never really thought of it that way, but most of that is behind me now. It’s kind of weird. All of the things that made me, well me, are gone now. Now I just have school, and I’m not entirely sure what I want to major in. I had thought I had always wanted to be a doctor, but the thought of that much school does not sound appealing. What are your plans, Adam?”

                Adam chuckled lightly and smiled ruefully at Hennessy, “My dad wants me to follow in his footsteps as an accountant, but the thought of that just does not appeal to me. Right now I’m not sure what I want to do. I’m one of those infamous undecided majors. So far I have thought of Creative Writing, Exercise Science, Communications, or even Marketing, but in some ways I think it might also be fun to be a teacher. I had so many teachers that helped to shape me, and I would love to be able to be that person in someone else’s life. My goal for this first year is to get my generals out of the way and take some time for introspection and decide what I want to be when I grow up.”

                Hennessy giggled, “That is quite a wide range of interests. I’m pretty sure that I want to do something in healthcare, I just haven’t decided what,  but I guess we are eighteen. We have a bit of time to decide.”

                “So you don’t want to do anything with farming?” Adam asked

                “No,” Hennessy responded. “Farming has always been a hobby for our family. It is not really our livelihood. My dad is an occupational therapist and my mom is a Massage Therapist and Yoga Instructor. Pretty much everyone in my family has gone into some type of healthcare-related field.”

                “How many siblings do you have?”

                “Three. I’m the baby of the family, so it feels like I have to live up to my siblings’ achievements, and there is nothing really left to achieve because they have already done it. I was the pleasant surprise caboose in our family. My parents did not expect to have any more children as there youngest was ten when they discovered that my mom was pregnant, but I think over the last 18 years, they have decided that I haven’t ruined their 40s and  50s too much,” Hennessy rolled her eyes. “How about you? What is your family like?”

                “Well my dad is an accountant, like I said, and my mom is an engineer who designs bridges. I get my artistic side from her. I just use a lot less math to express my artistry,” Adam joked. “I’m actually an only child. My parents married in their 30s, and it took them a while to get pregnant with me, so unlike you, I don’t have to worry about any siblings and their shadows. But on the other hand, all of my parents’ expectations rest squarely on me, and they both think that numbers are my future. Even though I like math, it is not my passion. I want to use this year to discover what my passion was.

                “However, the real reason I stopped to talk to you was to ask if you wanted to join an online group that some of my friends from home created.”

                “An online group?” Hennessy interjected, one eyebrow cocked and a smirk on her face.

                Flustered, Adam continued, “Yeah, a group of friends from home who like writing decided to create a website for people to get together and share their stories with each other. You know, to get feedback and stuff.”

                Adam glanced at Hennessy. She still looked skeptical, but he thought she would be a good addition to their group. She would have a much different perspective than his friends, plus there was the little fact that he wanted to get to know her better, and this could help him with that objective. And she seemed like she needed a friend, so he nervously continued.

                “They just mailed me some of the business cards they created to help advertise, so here is one. You are a really good writer, and I think you need to share that talent with others. Just think about it, okay.”

                Hennessy took the offered business card and looked at it.

 WritersAnonymous.com

A group for aspiring authors and those who want to help them succeed.

               
“Just think about it,” Adam urged again. “I’ve got to run to my next class, but I will see you tomorrow in English.

                Hennessy smiled at his retreating back. She could tell that the request had made him nervous, and she wondered why. He was just asking her to join an online writers’ group. It was not a huge deal. She pondered his invitation. It would be kind of fun, and maybe that could be her niche in college. She had browsed the booths at the club recruitment event during the first week of school, and while some of the clubs did look interesting, she had not committed to anything yet. Like she told Adam, she was feeling lost, and was unsure what shape her new role in life was going to take. Maybe this online group could give her the creative outlet she needed as a break from the rigors of college.

                She had not realized how hard college was going to be. While she was a good student, college was so different from high school. It felt like all she did was study, and even then, things did not always make sense. Her mother had urged her to find balance in college. She had reiterated that while grades were important, Hennessy also needed to discover ways to relax and re-center herself. She just was not entirely sure how to do so.

                She had a day before she would see Adam, so she would ponder whether this writing group was the answer to her balance problems. Right now, she need to decipher the mysteries of stoichiometry for her Chemistry class.                                                   

Also Available on: 
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Inkitt: https://www.inkitt.com/stories/humor/551847

Hennessy the Shepherdess- Preface

Preface

Hennessy stared at her computer screen and bit her lip as she pondered the first assignment of her freshman English class. A personal essay.  She had written many such papers through Middle School and High School, but now that she was in college she knew the stakes were higher. She had breezed through English at her small high school, receiving praise from her teachers on her writing abilities, but she no longer felt special. How could she write something that stood out among all of the amazing students around her?

Sighing, she moved from chewing on her lip to chewing on a strand of her curly auburn hair. Then, realizing what she was doing, she sighed again and stared out of the floor to ceiling windows of the campus library. Students were walking by looking oh so confident. Hennessy wished she could have just a little bit of their confidence. College was hard, and her first few weeks had reinforced her feelings of home sickness. She wished she was home, with Talia her border collie licking her face, surrounded by what she now termed as the welcoming sounds of sheep bleating. She laughed at that thought. She would never have guessed she would miss the sound of sheep persistently complaining about their hunger or other woes. She thought after eighteen years she would be relieved to have peace and quiet. Not to mention being free of the stench of sheep manure. But as she gazed out the window, she realized she even missed the muck and mud of early spring and the melting snow. A tear slid slowly down her cheek. She missed home.

Sniffing she willed herself to stop crying. She was a college freshman with a deadline. She needed to have a rough draft of her paper written in time for her English class tomorrow morning at nine. It was now five p.m. She was not a procrastinator, but she had been experiencing severe writer’s block and could not come up with a topic to save her life. It was now crunch time, and she needed to think and decide on a topic. Blinking back her tears, she remembered the words of her seventh grade teacher, Mr. Kim, “Write what you know. Write what you love. Write what you are passionate about and what makes you unique.”         

Well, in this metropolitan university campus, growing up on a farm definitely made you unique. Farmers were few and far in between. “Okay,” Hennessy thought to herself, “I’ll write about being a farm girl. That will help me stand out, but which experience do I write about?”

Taking a deep breath, Hennessy started to type.

 

 

The Real Joy

                There was an air of tenseness in the show ring. The judge had narrowed the finalists to six. I held my lamb with a vise-like grip; she was prone to jump, and I did not want to lose her at this critical point. I stared intensely at the judge, too nervous to smile and barely managing to keep a look of total and complete terror off my face. I knew my lamb was good, one of the best I had ever raised, but I did not know if the judge would agree. Finally he stood back, and the livestock committee handed him a belt buckle and a pink and purple rosette. This was the moment of truth. I think I managed a weak smile in a last ditch effort to impress the grandfatherly man. He started to walk towards me; I was getting excited. Then my mind started to psych me out. What if he was going to shake Abigail’s or Tiffany’s hand, or perhaps Kristy’s?  This was perhaps the most nerve-wracking event in my fifteen-year-old life. The judge smiled and shook my hand. I burst out in a blinding smile, and the crowd roared. One of the biggest goals in my life had just been achieved: my lamb was named Grand Champion Lamb of the County Fair.

                I bought my first sheep, Cleo, when I was ten. I didn’t know it then, but my life was about to change in unexpected ways, for I have gained more than pretty ribbons and flashy belt buckles from my livestock experience.

                Beeeep, beeeep, beeeep. Across my bedroom my alarm clock beckoned. Groggily, I forced myself out of bed. I looked at my alarm and groaned.  It was a Saturday, and it was 5:30 in the morning.  I swore my dad was a slave driver. I could just imagine my friends waking up at this time of day. They were so lucky. Clumsily, I staggered to our wash room and pulled on my mom’s boots over my pajama bottoms and grabbed a coat and flashlight. Throwing the garage door open, I was attacked by several small knives of frigid air. The only light outside was our yard light and my weak flashlight. The brisk wind cut through my silky pajamas, and I knew that wearing them was not the wisest choice I had ever made. I did not care because I was going to jump back in bed when I finished, so I refused to get dressed. Once at the barn, I peered in the stall to see if any baby lambs had been born during the night. Seeing nothing (literally, because I did not have my contacts in), I scurried back to my warm bed; hoping that there really were not any problems.

Many a time, however, I went up to the barn on those freezing cold mornings and found a lamb that was chilled and on the verge of death. I would have to carry the slimy, spindly legged lamb to my grandma’s house to let it spend the day lounging in a cardboard box in front of the wood burning stove, never knowing if when I returned home from school whether or not my efforts would be rewarded.   

Even when sheep are not helpless anymore they tend to hurt themselves. One morning as I was putting my show lambs on our horse walker to exercise them, I noticed that my ewe lamb had torn her hoof and was squirting blood. I had to pour pungent smelling iodine on the wound to harden the hoof and bandage it to protect it from further injury. After I finished my hands were stained a sickly shade of brown and also smelled of that noxious iodine odor I detested. 

Animals, especially sheep, always become ill, bloat, and are harassed by carnivorous animals, in addition to the accidents such as tearing a hoof occurring. Some experiences are harder to deal with than others. One that stands out in my mind occurred four years ago. The day before Christmas my dad and I went to vaccinate a ewe that had succumbed to pneumonia. Raised by me from birth, Squirt was one of my first and pet ewes. Very weak, she managed to stagger over to my dad to receive her shot. The shot was given and immediately she went berserk. The shots of LA 200 normally sting the sheep, but this was a particularly adverse reaction. Weakly she sunk to her knees while I cradled her head. As I knelt in the frozen muck, tears started to stream down my face. She made her final death struggle and was gone. Squirt died in my arms. 

This experience affected me, but what affected me more was witnessing the destruction wrought by two vicious dogs, a German Shepard and a Black Lab that killed more than half of my ewe herd. That harrowing scene of carnage is one I cannot recall without shuddering. Seeing the sheep I loved and cared about murdered sent me into a state of mind-numbing frenzy that permanently left a part of me deadened. The sight of their corpses floating in the pond, only appearing as dirty cotton balls, shot through me like a bullet. I remember holding 15, another ewe I had raised, whose ears had been chewed off by the dogs and were oozing bright red blood. Denying the seriousness of the situation, and hoping she was going to survive, I winced as I heard my cousin end her suffering with a shotgun. Then I witnessed Blackie, one of my favorites, struggle to gain her strength back and stand, but then I discovered a hole in her hip so deep I could not see the end. As I cried into my pillow that night after she had been put out of her misery, I reflected on how precious life is and how quickly it can be snatched away.

As I watch my vulnerable lambs progress from into an adult sheep, I realize that my experience has not been about winning or even about the sheep themselves. Because of all the things that were required of me during my sheep exhibiting years, I have discovered that it is easier to be responsible rather than to complain and procrastinate. Irresponsibility around sheep has dire consequences. In many cases one tiny mistake can lead to a sheep sickening, or even dying. Because of one such mess-up one of my best ewes died after bloating on alfalfa hay when I left the gate to the haystack unlocked. Caring for my sheep throughout the course of their lives has helped me gain a spirit of love and compassion. Rescuing a chilled and weak lamb from certain death, or nursing a ewe back to health has taught me that giving of my self is more rewarding than concentrating solely on my own needs and wants. 

                While everyone may not be suited for, or even want a life on a farm, I am glad I had the chance to be raised on one. Despite all of the hard work, I am grateful for the lessons that I have experienced. Perhaps I could have learned these lessons elsewhere, but this avenue was possibly the best for me because it was something I grew to love and enjoy. For me the most rewarding part of sheep exhibiting was not having my lamb win the Grand Champion of the show, but knowing that through my efforts I have been shaped into a better person. This is an experience I want to share with others, especially my future family. I believe that as I share my love of sheep, they too will grow in unexpected ways.  

                Hennessy stretched her sore fingers and glanced around her. It was now dark and the tables near the window were much emptier than previously. Hearing her stomach growl, she glanced at her laptop and noticed that the time was now 9 pm. She had just spent the last four hours typing, but she was done. Navigating to the class discussion board, she posted her essay to her groups’ revision thread, noting that her three classmates had already posted their essays. She would need to read their essays and provide feedback, but for now she needed to find dinner and get home to her dorm room.

Also Available on: 
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I Love You

Katrina smiled as she inhaled the scent of apple blossoms surrounding her. The sun warmed boards below her felt comforting on her back as she gazed at the wooden walls around her and reminisced on all of the memories she had made in this treehouse. Hours spent reading and discovering the worlds of Harry, Anne, Laura, and countless others. Of writing her own stories in honor of her literary heroes. Of tears shed over friends lost and unrequited loves of adolescence. There were both good and painful memories made in this old treehouse.

Today brought to mind both types of memories, and Katrina felt the urge to put her thoughts on paper so that she could help organize her thoughts. Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she looked down at the spiral notebook beside her. Sighing she picked it up and started to write.

Dear Henry, your love for me has meant more than you can ever realize. You were the first person to smile at me in our Kindergarten class all those years ago. Even though girls are supposed to have cooties, you told all of your guy friends that they would let me play four square with you. Otherwise, you would punch them in the nose. Thankfully, they accepted me, so that you didn’t have to do so. ‘

As we progressed through elementary school, we did make other friends, but you were always the constant in my life. When Lisa told me she couldn’t be my friend because I wore the same dress as her in second grade, you offered to go punch her in the nose too, if she wasn’t a girl since you didn’t hit girls. Instead, you sprinkled salt on her ice cream when she was distracted at the birthday party I wasn’t invited to because I was no longer her friends. When she got mad, you told her that I was sad, and I was your best friend, and no one messes with your best friend. Rather than hating you, she acknowledge that it was mean of her to not invite me to her birthday, and we have been friends since.

In fifth grade, when I didn’t want to deal with the drama of pre-teen girls, although I caused plenty of it myself, you let me play basketball with your friends and helped me perfect my free throw shot. Playing with you guys helped me develop a love of basketball that still continues and has been a major part of my life.

In seventh grade, when I though Ricky was the boy that I was going to marry, even though as a ninth grader he had no idea who I even was, you were there to listen to me. You were so patient with me, even when I was an irrational girl. You helped me cope with the heartbreak when I realized that he already had a girlfriend. You let me cry on your shoulder and I probably ruined it with my green eyeshadow that I thought was so cool at the time.

You were by my side on our first day of high school, as we embarked on the unknown. You helped me find my classes and you helped me with my geometry homework since I had no idea why I should care about the behavior of lines, points, and planes. I still don’t understand why I should care about theorems and postulates. A triangle is a triangle and a line is a line, but you helped me pass the class so that I was able to progress on to higher level math that made more sense. Don’t ask why tan and sine and cosine made more sense to me than geometry, but they did.

When I thought I was going to miss out on our Junior Prom, you asked me, although I knew that there were so many other girls that you could have asked. I think that it was that night that I realized that you liked me more than just a friend. Everyone commented on how happy that you looked with me on your arm. I didn’t know how I felt about that because you were Henry. You were my best friend. Best friends don’t fall in love with each other. At least in the movies it seemed like that make friendships awkward. However, I couldn’t miss how handsome you looked in your tux, and I felt like a princess in your arms as we danced the night away.

Graduation came, and it dawned on me that we were going to college in different parts of the state. I started to freak out a little bit. You had always been by my side, and I was not sure how I would cope with you 2 hours away. Yes, we could call, text, instant message, and whatever, but I knew that our relationship would never be the same. It is hard to keep up when there is that much distance between. However, you held me tight as you said goodbye to me and reassured me that I would be fine at college and that you were only a phone call away.

I made many friends in college, and I even started dating someone, but you were the constant in my life. You would listen to me for hours on end as I told you about how hard it was to be so far from home. You gave me advice, and helped me come to terms with the person I was growing into. You helped me gain the confidence that I needed to re-apply to the nursing program after I was unsuccessful the first time. You listened to me when I cried about the first patient that I lost as a nursing student. I could hear the smile in  your voice when I told you about watching a baby be born.

I never realized how one sided our relationship truly was. You gave so much to me, and I gave you so little in return. I wish I would have taken the time to ask you how you were doing through all of those times you listened to my problems. I never knew about the demons that you faced in your life. I didn’t realize how much you needed someone to listen to your problems. You always looked so happy that I didn’t think that anything could have been wrong in your life. I missed all of the warning signs that were so obvious, especially now that I am looking back in hindsight. I wish I would have never taken you for granted.

Now that you are gone, there is a giant hole in my heart. I cannot say that I understand why you did what you did. Why you thought that the only solution to your problems in life was death. I can never understand why. I only know that the best way that I can honor you is to watch out for those around me, and to be a friend to those who need one. I can listen more than I talk. You would not want me to wallow in grief and guilt, so although I feel each emotion so strongly, I will not let them dominate my response. I will remember the good times and look forward to the day when I can be with you again.

I wish I could have told you how much I love you, and how much you have meant to me, but I guess this letter will just have to suffice. I truly do love you Henry, and I wish I would have realized that sooner, so I could have told you in person. Save a place for me in heaven. I love you.

Prompt is from Reedsy.com writing prompts.

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/megan-prause/