{"id":611,"date":"2015-06-03T06:00:14","date_gmt":"2015-06-03T11:00:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/?p=611"},"modified":"2017-03-11T10:26:16","modified_gmt":"2017-03-11T16:26:16","slug":"fiction-muse-bovine-by-terry-faust","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/?p=611","title":{"rendered":"Fiction: \u201cMuse Bovine\u201d by Terry Faust"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"MuseBovine\"<\/a>M<\/span>embers of the Tri-City Literary Writers Group sipped green tea and waited in the farmhouse\u2019s spacious kitchen. They\u2019d been together for five years and recently switched their meeting location from a coffee shop to this rural dairy farm, after reading a newspaper article. This was their third meeting and they were excited.<\/p>\n

Seen through the large windows over the twin sinks, the gray sky threatened rain\u2014a clammy morning transitioning to a muggy day. The women occupied three of the six chrome-legged, cracked vinyl chairs that surrounded a matching laminate-topped table. It was a large kitchen with old white enameled appliances. Blue cabinets covered in generations of paint loomed on opposite walls, broken only by the sink windows. The kitchen\u2019s back door served as the house\u2019s main entrance. Like most farmhouses, the front door was only used for weddings and funerals.<\/p>\n

Tiffany Roberts, the writing group\u2019s fourth member, was home with a migraine\u2014though group leader Madison Fairchild suspected Tiffany objected to the farm smell and was making an excuse. Madison sympathized to a certain extent, but the earthy odor of manure, urine and rotted hay was part of the experience\u2026the total Bovine Artistic Therapy<\/em>\u2122, as praised in the newspaper article.<\/p>\n

Madison had winced at the odor as well but after a short time she no longer noticed it. The trick was not to forget to shower and change immediately after therapy. Poor Tiffany had gone straight to a wine-tasting last month and, though no one confronted her at the event, she heard about her \u201cFarm Scent\u201d afterwards.<\/p>\n

Phaedra Alexander, the raven-haired young performance artist of the group, shifted her tea from hand to hand, sliding the cracked ceramic mug back and forth. \u201cWhat do you suppose is taking Lydia? Do you think the herd\u2019s out of balance?\u201d She cast a furtive look at backdoor and the mudroom, the cleanup space between the door and the kitchen. It led to a dairy barn some twenty yards out from the house. In the barn were the twenty cows that weekly provided the group with bovine truth; authentic limbic responses to their writing dilemmas. The herd\u2019s holistic honesty challenged the group\u2019s sincerity and centered their writing. The cows fertilized their imaginations.<\/p>\n

Madison placed her hand on Phaedra\u2019s flannel-covered forearm. They all dressed down for the sessions; jeans and work shirts\u2026despite being well-heeled college grads. Lydia always provided Wellies, tall rubber boots. \u201cYou know Lydia needs to settle the cows,\u201d Madison said and gave Phaedra a pat. Madison, known as Maddy or simply Mad, was the oldest member at fifty-six. She\u2019d once been a gymnast in college but no longer exercised\u2026or denied herself food. She had first read about Lydia\u2019s farm<\/p>\n

Judith Berman cupped her mug in both hands and sipped the tea. \u201cI expect to get through a lot today. My first chapter is so scattered. You would not believe how I\u2019ve been looking forward to this session.\u201d Her gaunt face seemed out of place below her wavy red hair. She was a business attorney, and their newest member. Even in jeans and a work shirt she looked slim and sharp. Writing was her chosen creative outlet and she made sure everyone knew it. \u201cMy publicist set a book signing date for next October,\u201d she added.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat might be a bit ambitious, Judith,\u201d Madison cautioned. \u201cYou don\u2019t even have a publisher yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr a first draft,\u201d Phaedra added.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll see what the cows say,\u201d Judith replied. Madison regretted asking Judith into the group but Tiffany\u2019s attendance had become spotty over the last year and Phaedra\u2019s recent performance successes had boosted her artistic confidence to near unbearable levels. Professionals like Judith usually dabbled in writing and were eager to accept an older and wiser author\u2019s writing advice. Not in this case.<\/p>\n

The back door opened and Lydia stomped in, pausing at the wire boot cleaner to scrape caked manure. She was big and muscled from a life of hard work. The dairy farm had belonged to her father and would have passed to his two sons if either had wanted it.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe girls are ready, ladies.\u201d By girls, Lydia meant the cows and by ladies she meant the writers. She flipped her long brunette braid back over her shoulder. Her face was broad and blunt. At forty she\u2019d resigned herself to living alone and making her farm profitable. \u201cBovine Artistic Therapy\u201d was her own invention. She came up with it after reading about a horse ranch that had made \u201cEquine Artistic Therapy\u201d pay off.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe morning milking was a little off, but I\u2019m thinking the girls are excited about today\u2019s meeting,\u201d Lydia said. \u201cThere is definitely connectedness in the air\u2014a lot of body energy in the barn. It\u2019ll be a productive session for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

Maddy, Phaedra, and Judith made appreciative noises. Anticipating the first session of the day always excited and focused the group. Lydia had learned this and played the group\u2019s buttons. \u201cThe cows were telling me they feel there\u2019ll be definite breakthroughs today.\u201d<\/p>\n

Phaedra pumped her arm. \u201cYes! I knew it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judith sniffed, \u201cSorry, Phay, but I think they were picking up on my first chapter.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia held up a cautionary hand. \u201cBring discord and selfishness into the barn and the cows will know it. Nobody will get answers.\u201d<\/p>\n

The warning had an immediate affect. All three writers nodded and Judith looked, if not embarrassed, at least mildly contrite. Having done the therapy thing for over a year now, Lydia enjoyed the control she could wield over these women and had to remind herself to stay within bounds. The three Tri-City authors were but one of five writers\u2019 groups that paid for her cows\u2019 advice and inspiration. Lydia smiled inwardly and doubted she\u2019d ever grow tired of her role as a sage cow interpreter\u2014a kind of doctor of Delphic dairy dialectics.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, then,\u201d Lydia said. \u201cAre we all focused and ready to face the herd?\u201d<\/p>\n

The women agreed they were. Lifting key phrases from equine therapy literature and replacing the word \u201ccow\u201d for \u201chorse,\u201d Lydia had advertised her bovine therapy on the Internet and was amazed at the response. Creative guidance, life coaching, and big-animal-emotional-healing were all trendy activities that paid big money. Lydia had always chuckled when she\u2019d read about similar programs and considered it mumbo-jumbo, but the dairy economy was on the ropes and if people would pay good money to hug her cows she wasn\u2019t going to refuse them the chance. Who was she to deny the creative process?<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope they\u2019re seeing the future today. I\u2019ve got some very, very important questions,\u201d Judith said as a way to explain her earlier gaffe.<\/p>\n

Lydia thought a moment. Personally she had no illusions about her Holsteins. Cows were cows: stupid beasts, lovers of routine who led dull lives of child bearing, milk production, and ultimately were turned into Big Macs. She felt little attachment to any of them. \u201cI believe this weather has them a bit on edge, but that means the herd has turned inward. You\u2019ll get good answers about character development and relationships today. It\u2019s a good day to ask about plot and resolution.\u201d<\/p>\n

Satisfied, Judith smiled.<\/p>\n

Lydia clapped her hands. \u201cOkay, then. Shall we get at the truth, ladies?\u201d<\/p>\n

The barn air was redolent with cow effluent. Lydia loved words like \u201credolent\u201d and \u201ceffluent.\u201d They sure beat stink and manure. She was picking up quite a vocabulary working with writers and just thinking in terms of three-syllable words made her feel better about this new enterprise. She milked three times a day and had accustomed the cows to being questioned mid-morning, before they filed out to the pasture. Cows were sensitive to change and Lydia rejected several suggestions that the writers roam free in the pasture to commune with her Holsteins. For one thing, cows could kick. And cows would eat practically anything, not a good habit when writers seemed prone to leaving pens, note pads, and cell phones everywhere.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s spend a moment centering,\u201d Lydia said. They walked up the middle of the barn alley separating the cows and stopped to bow their heads for a minute. Bare electric bulbs lit the shadowy interior. Left and right a line of cow rear ends protruded from the stalls. Most of the cows were still feeding and paid no attention to the group. The barn was an ancient wooden structure with a peaked hayloft and a red paint job with white trim. Lydia had installed steel stanchions in place of the former boxy wooden stalls, but the place still had a closed-in primitive cave-like feel. The low, cobwebby ceiling of rafters seemed to compress the cattle odor despite the electric fans running at the doors. Lydia had worried at first that writers would be put off, but to her surprise many of the woman writers felt the barn\u2019s dark oppressive atmosphere was like a womb.<\/p>\n

Lydia noticed a Holstein arching her back and grabbed Judith\u2019s arm, pulling the writer away from a healthy gush of urine. \u201cJudith, I think you\u2019ve been chosen to go first.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judith smiled. \u201cThis one?\u201d She pointed at the cow that had nearly drenched her. Lydia nodded and Judith stepped to the animal\u2019s broad side. Placing both hands on its flank, the writer closed her eyes in concentration.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, then,\u201d Lydia said and let a moment pass. She then said softly. \u201cOkay, she senses you and is ready to tell you the unvarnished truth\u2014what you need to know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judith rubbed the bristly cowhide and talked to the cow. \u201cI can\u2019t seem to get out of chapter one. Every time I think it\u2019s perfect and try moving on I reread it and start changing things. I want to finish my novel in the next three months, in time to be reviewed and slotted as a best seller. What should I do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia had trained her groups to wait patiently for answers, which often gave her time to frame a generic response if nothing specific came to mind. It also gave the cow a chance to physically react to the writer, which reinforced the whole bovine part of the therapy. Indeed, the Holstein shifted its stance and Lydia emitted a satisfied, \u201cAh ha.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judith\u2019s eyes popped open and looked eagerly to Lydia, but Lydia held up a hand, telling Judith to wait, implying the cow was not through considering her question.<\/p>\n

In the beginning, Lydia had stumbled on her cow replies, sometimes missing the mark, sometimes hitting them dead on. She\u2019d learned that providing direct, specific answers like: \u201cGive your character a reason for why she quit her bank job to become an astronaut,\u201d or \u201cTell your readers the story has shifted from Duluth to Bermuda,\u201d was the wrong way to go. She had to embrace the writer, not just their work. With experience she learned not to critique but rather concentrate on what the authors needed to hear.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, Judith,\u201d Lydia finally said. \u201cYou felt the way she shifted her position? She\u2019s telling you to shift your expectations. She says you\u2019re worrying too much, spending too much time on your beginning. Trying to perfect that first chapter is unrealistic, especially if you don\u2019t know the rest of the story. Her moving around was her way of telling you to leave the first chapter and move on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judith patted the cow affectionately and spoke with emotion. \u201cBut it\u2019s so hard. I want it to be right!\u201d<\/p>\n

Two stalls down, a cow bellowed. It had finished its feed and was ready for the pasture.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou hear that?\u201d Lydia said. \u201cThe herd knows what you\u2019re going through, but they are telling you the truth. Move on. They know you can do it. Put chapter one away and start chapter two.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

At the end of the barn a cow stomped its hind leg. Lydia smiled. The girls were working with her today. \u201cHear that? There you have it. No buts, Judith.\u201d<\/p>\n

Judith sighed heavily, but it was a sigh of acceptance. She leaned into her cow and gave her a hug. \u201cShe\u2019s right. I\u2019ll lock the first chapter in a drawer.\u201d Placing her forehead on the cow\u2019s back, Judith said, \u201cThank you.\u201d She gave the cow a teary hug and Lydia put an arm around the writer.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrust her, Judith. She knows what\u2019s best.\u201d<\/p>\n

Phaedra was next and as she settled on the cow across from Judith\u2019s, Maddy took Lydia to one side and whispered, \u201cIt\u2019s just amazing, Lydia. Your cows told her exactly what I\u2019ve been telling her for months.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe cows don\u2019t lie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s incredible,\u201d Maddy added and squeezed Lydia\u2019s arm affectionately. \u201cYour cows have brought this group together\u2014given us focus.\u201d<\/p>\n

The rest of the sessions went smoothly, with Phaedra gaining valuable insights into the script for her performance piece and Maddy getting help with her novella. Lydia let the cows out to pasture and the writers retired to the kitchen to recap, make notes, and critique last month\u2019s writing. As the water was set to boiling for another round of tea, Lydia stowed the Wellies in the closet and watched the writers clustered at the table. The tension she felt from them earlier was gone and they laughed and joked as they took out pads and pens.<\/p>\n

To a one, they were professional women, college educated and city-bred. That they listened to her was amazing, but then they weren\u2019t listening to her, they were listening to her cows. To Lydia it made no sense when she thought it through. They all must be brighter than that. They paid good money for advice she\u2019d scrounged from a few used fiction-writing books. She couldn\u2019t help shaking her head every time she thought of it. The only rational explanation Lydia could come up with was that smart people needed to let their brains go on vacation from time to time. It was the only way she could describe it.<\/p>\n

\u201cLydia,\u201d Maddy called to her. \u201cCould you clarify what the cow told me about my plot twist?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be right there,\u201d Lydia said and adjusted the flame under the kettle. Through the screen door, she heard the distant lowing of her herd. They were settling in for a quiet afternoon of grazing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/center> <\/p>\n

\"TerryFaust\"<\/a>Terry Faust<\/strong> writes urban fantasy, mainstream young adult novels, and humorous science fiction spoofs. His short works have appeared in Tales of the Unanticipated<\/em>, Stupefying Stories<\/em>, and several Minnesota Speculative Fiction anthologies. Fancy Pants Gangsters recently produced his short story \u201cGood Service\u201d as a Redshift Theater radio play and Lakes Area Radio Theater produced his radio comedy \u201cDirt in Duplicate.\u201d<\/p>\n

As an assistant organizer of Minnesota Speculative Fiction for the past ten years, Terry has led critique workshops, participated in readings, and conducted writing presentations. His latest non-fiction project is a book based on the stories told by little library book exchange keepers. Photography and making weather vanes are his two other passions.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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