Brown beauty

A small petite girl she was, my dear old Melanie. At times I would watch her from behind the barn, seeing her sweet ass go up and down with every step she took. Her blonde hair flowing over her beautiful white skin, making my own heart pound with excitement and longing. It was love and it was lust, so tangled was the situation that every time she came in front of me, I would get all messed up in my head and stay tongue tied. Still, every morning I woke with the same longing, and a certain satisfaction. Satisfaction of the chance to see her when I would go to deliver the newspaper to her Pa. The old man couldn’t walk any more, so he paid me 100 dollars a month to do some of his manly shopping. Though I never did figure out what was so manly about getting a newspaper in the morning! Still, it was a good amount of money for running some petty errands every now and then. And it didn’t bother me in the least. Specially since it meant seeing Melanie.

She used to study in the university at Sacramento. I don’t really know where that is, but it sounds far away from our farms. Then her ma and pa had an accident in which her ma died, so she had to come back to the farm, leaving all her studies and college. This is something I really admire about her, for all those who go to big towns, seldom come back. But when she came back to her farm, it was the happiest day of my life.

Of course for her it was a big step back. You see, we are a small village with loads of farms and even more farmers. Hardly up to the intellectual standards of the big city. Now don’t you go by the big words I use! For I have enrolled into an university that sends me material via corresspondence. I really wanted to please that girl, maybe marry her one day, so I wanted to be as intelligent as her. Alas, the way things turned out, she ran away with the butcher’s son, that bloody do-nothing. And with her went all my love, leaving me with knowledge and a desire for revenge. And with knowledge I will be vengified, for today I will tell you what Melanie really was.

It was a nice day, just like summer though it was mid september. I went over to Melanie’s place, as was my routine for every Wednesday, with a bottle of brandy for her old man. It must have been two in the afternoon, for the sun was very high. I went to the porch and called her name, but got no answer. So I let myself in. There was the old man, already half drunk. I kept the bottle of brandy by his side and went to the backdoor to search for Melanie, to say hello. But she was not there either. I guessed that she must have gone to the stables to feed the horses; and I made my way towards them.

I was half way through when I saw Melanie. There she was, a big white book in her hands, talking to the chestnut colored horse that I hated the most.