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Harvest
a bush fire. The wind picked up, channeling a whistling whisper
through the pickets of the veranda. A gust of wind blew, signaling a
far off cracking of hardened blades of wheat. Nick’s grip tightened
on the rail, the comforting smooth surface steadying him. A deep
knot began to twist in the pit of his stomach. ‘What more can I do?’
he silently screamed into the galloping breeze.
Turning his back to the fields, he dragged his feet inside.
Hesitantly, begrudgingly, he kneeled beside the coffee table, sliding
the paperwork towards himself; hand slightly shaking, Nick signed
the bottom of the page. With a deep sigh, he heaved himself up and
gathered the paperwork. Grabbing his keys off the coffee table,
Nick walked outside to his car. The wind gently beat against the
windows as he sat inside. Fumbling with his keys, he switched on
the ignition. Cautiously reversing out of the driveway, Nick made
his way onto the highway on the border of the farm. With his
window slightly open, warm air spilled into the car, rustling through
Nick’s hair. He approached a forest green exit sign; it read
‘EDMONT
EXIT 8 MILES’
. Along the side of the highway the surface of soil had
began to crack under the sun’s unwavering heat.
Shifting his glance to the revision mirror, Nick’s squinting eyes
were instantly drawn to a small grey figure floating on the horizon
behind him. Double take. Slowing to an eventual stop, he pulled up
on the side of the highway. Deeply inhaling as he stepped out of the
car, the air was thick. Casting his eyes down the highway behind
him, a shadow-like presence descended in the distance. Clouds.
With this, Nick jumped back inside his car, indicated right, locked
the steering wheel in full rotation and turned around. Driving back
home, the clouds gingerly crept over the sky. Looking down to the
passenger seat, Nick smirked at the pile of paperwork accompanying
him, ‘Not just yet,’ he said.
‘
11