Greener Pastures

Swallows flitted across the meadow on the far side of the fence. Henrietta leaned her head on the barrier and watched them soar. It was so much greener over there. Of course everything else looks greener when you’re stuck in prison. Gertrude and Mildred didn’t care. They were too dumb to notice, but Henrietta noticed. Ever since the night those strange creatures flew down from the stars and poked at her, Henrietta had begun to look at her life in ways she never even considered. It was as if a door had opened in her mind.

Most of the other cows thought only of chewing their cud, content to be herded to the machine that stole milk meant for their children. They didn’t even realize they were in a prison camp. All the other cows saw was limitless food. No matter that their children were taken away. Even Henrietta had forgotten about her calf until the strangers helped remind her.

And when the cows stop producing milk, what then? There was no happy retirement for their lifetime of slave labor. Dried up cows got trucked away, never to be seen again.

Well, Henrietta wasn’t going to wait to be taken to the slaughterhouse. She was going to escape and fly free like the swallows, maybe even find her calf. The plan was ready. Her rabbit friends had loosened the fence post. All she needed to do now was convince the bear to yank it down. Shouldn’t be hard at all.

Advertisements

About A. L. Kaplan

I am a writer, artist, and parent.
This entry was posted in Short Story and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Greener Pastures

  1. Nice. Reminds me of Animal Farm a bit.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s