Spare The Rod

The wind blew the long grass that tickled Tal's ankles. That is, what grass had managed to spring up from the snowy prison that held its shorter cousins captive. He was sure he had some ice crystals stuck in his frog, and he fidgeted and lightly stamped his hoofed foot, while trying not to attract much attention. He feared the reproachful eye of his relatives as they gathered around the deep hole, into which a modest pine casket was lowered.

Tal had been warned that no noise would be tolerated, and that complete silence was the only way to show reverence for the deceased. But it was hard when the wind was howling in his long ears, and his only formal trousers were a bit too short, exposing his lower legs to all manner of sensation. Tal fidgeted as he tried not to look upon the casket bearing his grandfather's body. Tears welled up in his large eyes, the thick lashes of which were frosted with snowflakes. All he could think was "I'll never get to play horseshoes with Grandfather now."

Tal's memory drifted to the last time they'd made the long journey to visit his grandparents. Tal's family had settled far from their homelands on the plains, and as such, Tal did not get to see his cousins or grandparents often. It was always a difficult journey, especially for a little lad like himself. Long trips pushing carts and sleeping under the stars, which meant hard ground, lots of biting insects, and waking up shivering and coated in the morning dew. But once they arrived, it was well worth the journey. He never felt alone at his grandparents' farm. There was always a whirlwind of family coming and going and cousins to play with. It wasn't like at home where his parents worked hard all day. His chores were never sufficient to keep him occupied, and he was often left to his own devices. Which also meant, he had plenty of opportunities to get into trouble.

Tal remembered one particular spot of trouble he got into. His grandparents' house was unusually busy. Normally his grandmother was content to sit in a dimly lit room with a blanket and shawl, while his hard of hearing grandfather would happily show off the training of his hounds, all with their different jobs on the farm. Hunting, herding, protection. Tal was fascinated with them all, and his grandfather enjoyed his enthusiasm.

But that day, his grandfather, and various uncles, aunts, and cousins were all going to the Liberation Tournament. Tal's people, the Asinites, had been enslaved and the mark of their slavery were shoes of iron nailed to their hooves, or so the story went. A large part of this tournament was to toss these implements of torture towards a metal stake in the ground, symbolic of casting off their enslavement. Tal's grandfather and several of his uncles were particularly good at this sport, and Tal was also going to get to learn himself! He was excited and eager to prove himself!

The carts were loaded with all manner of nice things for a day out. Blankets and canvas, reed baskets laden with various breads and biscuits, preserves, and savouries, and necessary equipment and comfort items. The large group all began travelling together to the fairgrounds in an informal caravan. Tal was zipping from cart to cart, poking in to see what exciting things were packed for the event. When he wasn't getting into things he ought not, he was peppering various members of his extended family with questions.

They were almost halfway there when Tal spotted something moving along the side of the path, weaving in and out of the grass. His eyes became wide as saucers as he came to realise what it was: a snake. It darted between two rocks to get away from the noise and thunder of so many feet pounding beaten ground. But Tal wasn't about to be deterred. He squatted down on his haunches and used his walking stick to shift the rocks. Immediately a loud hiss and rattling sound met his ears and he took a step back, as the coiled, olive green reptile lifted its head menacingly. Tal looked over his shoulder as one of his Uncles walked by, minding a handcart.

"Keep playing in the dirt and you'll be left behind, Tal!" his uncle warned him. Tal swished his tasselled tail and looked back at the snake. It continued to rear up, its small head facing Tal. Another hiss. Tal took his walking stick and poked it at the snake, letting out a delighted giggle when the snake lunged at the stick. Boy, was it angry. Tal slipped the stick under the snake and flipped it up. In a panic, it wound itself around the stick, gripping it tight lest it be flung.

Amused by this, Tal looked up and saw two of his cousins, twins, trailing behind everyone. Carefully lifting his snake on a stick, he snuck up behind the sisters, who were so engrossed in their conversation they hardly noticed their young cousin. He lifted up the stick hanging it over their shoulders. At the sound of a hiss both looked over and then screamed. The snake was just as afraid of them as they were of it, but did the only thing it could. It struck out at one of the girls, nipping her on her exposed ear. Both of the girls started running, one holding her ear as she cried.

"Ooops," Tal frowned. Now he had to get rid of the evidence. He tried to shake the snake off, but it remained a grip and began to slither slowly along the stick towards his hands. It kinked its body up tight, letting out another raspy noise. Afraid it would bite him, he dropped the stick and left it in the road, running to catch up with his family.

"TAL!" Tal's fuzzy, brown ears twisted back as his shoulders rose. He looked down, not wanting to face the angry faces of the adults. But when hooves came into view, he slowly looked up with his large, brown eyes. From the kilt to the belt to the crossed arms. Further up still and he was met with an intense frown that pulled jowls down further. The whole picture of a face was coming clearer as he was met with glaring eyes. There were many lines creasing the forehead of his older aunt. Tal gulped.

"Y-yes?" Tal squeaked.

His aunt wasted no time. Her hands may have looked thin and frail, with the pale skin barely stretching over the bulging blue veins, but they snatched up his ear in a vice-like pinch that it was no wonder she had the nickname 'Aunt Crabby' instead of Mabbie. "You're lucky that wasn't a cockatrice! If you can't behave, I'll take you back to the homestead."

"You wouldn't! You can't!" Tal fussed. This was the first time he'd get to see his grandfather compete. It was a big event!

"Oh? I can't, can I not?" Aunt Mabbie said, expanding her chest with a deep breath and looking down at him, some of the short curls of her salt and pepper hair flipped up as she jerked her chin up imperiously, appearing like horns to Tal.

"This is THE GAMES!" Tal insisted, crossing his arms. He began to try and walk past his Aunt Mabbie, but she yanked on his ear again and he let out a howl. He saw the cousins up ahead looking back over their shoulders and giggling. Her ear wasn't even bleeding from the bite that he could see from this distance. He didn't understand what the big deal was. "Lemme go!"

"I think not. Once we get there, there will be crowds and crowds. And if you can't behave here, I hate to think how you'll behave under the cover of a throng." Striking with the celerity of the snake Tal had previously weaponised, she seized his wrist. He tried to pull against her, but it was no use. She shrugged the pack she had slung over her shoulder and dragged him over to her Uncle. "I'm taking this one back, where he can think about what he's done in peace and quiet. Let his parents know so they don't worry."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"No! No no no! I'll be good! I promise! I'll tell them I'm sorry!" Tal looked at the girls who were getting further away. He waved frantically at them, tears streaming down his face. "I'M SORRY!" he shouted. No more giggles, this got a loud chorus of laughter. But they did not look back to pause. Tal felt hot and angry. He stomped his hoof.

"You should have thought of how sorry you'd be before you stuck a snake in someone's face. How would you feel if someone did that to you?" His aunt asked, pulling him in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder as his uncle hurried to catch up with the rest and spread the word. He kept hoping his parents would hear of this injustice and come galloping to his rescue. But the caravan got further and further away, and no dust cloud dramatically rose into the sky, announcing the speedy entrance of his parents. After a while, Tal stopped looking back, but he didn't stop sobbing. He wanted his Aunt to hear every whimper and sniffle.

Tal was exhausted when they got back to his Grandparents' house. His aunt didn't seem at all fatigued, which annoyed him. As she often seemed too tired to play or deal with him or his cousins most of the time. Perhaps his tears strengthened her rather than wore her down, as it often had his parents. If he wasn't so mad, he'd marvel.

"Now then, it's been a long walk. Let's get you a drink and I'll fix you up with something to eat," his aunt said in a very functional, matter-of-fact tone. She didn't seem to still be mad at him, but he was raging at her.

"I'm not hungry!" Tal spat as he stomped into the house. He tried to slam the door on her, but she caught it and pushed herself in, unperturbed. She closed the door much more gently, as if to further frustrate his thirst for noise and drama.

"Yes you are," his Aunt responded dismissively as she went straight into the kitchen.

Tal angrily threw himself onto the floor, beating the ground with his fists and hooves. It smelled of dog fur, dust, and old people. After a while, he gave up those theatrics and sprang to his feet. His Aunt called him in to the kitchen to eat. He stomped around in a circle. "I AM NOT HUNGRY! I WANT TO GO BACK! I WANT TO GO BACK!"

"You aren't going back. Now come in and eat." his Aunt called again from the kitchen. He heard a clink and he could smell a pleasant aroma. Toasted bread, with cheese and jam! He loved cheese and jam! He paused in his stomping, as if rethinking his protest. No. He had to hold firm. He grabbed a bundled blanket off the shelf and threw it down on the ground. He then grabbed a cushion and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and then fell limply onto the floor. "THIS ISN'T FAIR! I'M MISSING THE TOURNAMENT!"

Tal really couldn't believe that they'd made it home. He was sure his piteous pleas and sad noises would have softened his aunt's heart and they would turn around. Now that he was back at the house, the reality of it all came crashing down. His siblings and cousins were all having fun without him. And they'd come back and talk about it. And all of this because he played a harmless prank!

"And when you're done yelling, there's a glass of water for you. It'll be a long, lonely wait on an empty stomach."

Why wasn't she getting mad? She was always cross with them. Where did all of this calmness come from? Tal just roared at the top of his lungs. "YOU'RE MEAN! I HATE YOU!"

"That's fine with me. Mmmm." his Aunt responded in the gap where he needed to catch his breath before he could unleash more hollering.

After a while his throat hurt, his body ached, and he was, in fact, very hungry. Ears and shoulders drooping he finally walked into the kitchen, his hooves knocking on the hardwood floor. His aunt was licking her fingers and she had an empty plate with crumbs and a few purple smudges on it before her. His eyes went wide. Did she eat the snack she'd made for him? "HEY!"

"You should have come when I called. I wasn't going to let good food go to waste," his aunt said. Tal began crying. He was hungry and he couldn't think or feel straight and this woman was the absolute meanest, most horrible person.

Suddenly, from beneath the table, she lifted up a plate. He looked up with hope as she set it down on the table, gesturing to a spot beside her on the bench. Dining chairs were not practical for Asinites, but the benches did provide a rest for their thighs. Some preferred tall tables and to eat standing, but sitting was more common in the modern houses.

Tal eased his rump down, tail flicking side to side as his ears perked up. His face was caked with tears and snot but he didn't care. He tucked in to his tart and salty toast. His aunt passed him a napkin, but he ignored it, preferring instead to try his best to lick the lingonberry jam off his chin. He tried a few more times stubbornly, but could not get the very end of it. So he resorted to stubbornly wipe it onto his sleeve.

"Go wash your face, you're a mess," his aunt instructed. He was tempted to stick his tongue out and run off, but it occurred to him that maybe she would walk him to the fairgrounds if he behaved himself. So he hopped over the basin, staring at the misty water. It didn't look terribly clean to him, but he shrugged, dipped a flannel in, and wiped his face furiously. It was cold, but felt good after all the heat from his anger.

It was boring at his grandparents' house without the dogs to play with, or other cousins or siblings. And Aunt Mabbie wasn't very fond of games. She kept insisting she was too tired after their long walk to play. She tried to interest him in a conversation, but it rarely went anywhere and Tal quickly grew impatient.

"When are we going back to the fairgrounds?" He finally asked.

"We aren't. I'm too tired, and it'd take too long to go now," Aunt Mabbie explained.

"But I've been good!" Tal insisted.

"I'm glad. But that doesn't change that it's too late now. How about we read a book?"

Tal gawked in disbelief. HIs anger rekindled, and he stomped his foot and began his tantrum anew. And despite his blustering and using every hateful word he could think of, his Aunt Mabbie remained as serene as the eye of a storm. That was until he said some naughty words he had learned from older boys at his town, in which case he soon was literally frothing at the mouth, with the taste of soap in his mouth.

Through all the highs and lows, he kept expecting his Aunt Mabbie to break and to get his way. It wasn't that he was never disciplined before. He'd been whipped across the flank many times with the switch his father carried. He hated it. But it did not bring out the same desperation that missing this tournament did. He was never denied something that only came once a year. No matter how badly he behaved, he was always included in family affairs. This was a new and unfathomable punishment.

Tal sniffed as the silent part of the funeral was coming to an end. That memory stuck in his mind. He gave a glare towards Aunt Mabbie, who stood there, shivering. But she had that same, placid, insurmountable visage. To his surprise, despite her lifted chin stern expression, her eyes were red and glistened in what little light filtered through the hazy, gray skies.

Tal thought about Aunt Mabbie. He had lost out on something valuable. His Grandfather had gotten sick and they did not attend the tournament the following year. And the year after that, his father passed away. His lungs gave out. He never got to see his grandfather compete. He never got to be taught how to play, not like his older siblings had. Aunt Mabbie deprived him of that. In a way, he felt as though his Aunt had taken his grandfather away. And yet, despite the burning in his bosom, he felt an odd awe towards her. Tal would never dare cross her again. She held in her hands the power to take something away that could not be given back. And that was truly frightening.

Tal had learned a very hard lesson. There was more at stake than just a few swats or missing a meal. For every treat he was denied, he got one later when he was good. But no amount of being good would bring his grandfather back. No amount of being bad would either. Tal felt a lump in his throat, unsure what to do with these thoughts and feelings. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He turned and buried his face in his mother's skirts and sobbed.

Life wasn't fair.