A simple whimsical tale. I first started it when I babysat my nephew. He needed to sleep, so I made up a story for him, although he's just two. :x But anyway, I decided to actually right it down. It's been a while since I free-wrote like this, so it may sound a bit formal. I've been writing essays lately, and it takes my writing a while for it to converge itself to another flow. xD
There is no ti
tle to it, partly because I can't seem to think of a fitting one. So for now, it will just be called "A Tale". It's just a simple fantasy, not to be taken and compared to actual animals or persons in the real world. I mean, the cow is selfish in my story, so.
This isn't the final version. I notice some parts don't flow well, so once I get off my lazy bottom, I'll try fixing it. @_@
A Tale
In a faraway land lived a prince, who had a humble yet majestic castle. It was a hot summer, and when the Prince had the time, he would go down to his village and help the workers with their load. After one such evening of work, a lady approached him.
“Your majesty,” she said, “Thank you for your hard work. It is a very hot summer, so please do accept this gift.” In her hand was a cracked cup with a scoop of soft, cold churned milk. The Prince accepted it and took a hearty bite. It was sweet like the taste of summer fruits and spiced with a bit of mint.
“It is delicious!” He cried jubilantly. “What is this concoction?”
“We call it ice cream, dear sir,” the lady smiled warmly.
And so, everyday that he worked in the village, the local lady would give him a bowl of ice cream. When the next summer came, he helped the villagers with their work and asked the lady if she had any ice cream left.
The lady coughed and swayed. “I am sorry, Prince, but I am a tad too sick to make you any ice cream.”
“You are right; I deeply apologize,” the Prince said, and sent the lady home with a bundle of herbs. But when the Prince returned to his castle, he could not shake the taste of the dessert off his mind. So he asked his most trusted servant to look for ice cream in the castle. The servant ran up and down the stairs, but no cooks knew how to make it. Next, the servant went to the village and asked around where he may find the best ice cream.
“Well, the best ice cream comes from the most perfect milk, which is produced by only one cow. He lives in a flourishing pasture a little way from ‘ere,” a villager pointed to the southern road. “It is said that he may be one of the gods o’ harvest’s cow that is too selfish. The cow has never given milk before even when a thirsty man may stumble upon ‘im.”
The servant nodded gravely and told the Prince. The Prince, who could not leave his castle because of work, gave the trusted servant a bottle of water, food, a token, and a horse. At the rise of the sun the next day, the servant rode away into the pasture.
When he arrived, he whistled in shock. Despite the scorching sun boiling away at the earth, the pasture was a ring of shade and trees, with a white cow in the middle. No blotches of black where on it—only white, like soft snow. The cow mooed and eyed the stranger.
“If you come here for my milk, you will not get any. It is for me and only me. I am the best cow there is, and no one is worthy of my milk except for me.”
The servant approached warily. “But dear cow, I am thirsty. Will you let me die here when you can save my life?”
The cow nodded. The servant shook his head and left. He set up camp near a boulder and drank his bottle of water, quenching his throat. He sat on a rock and thought. Why is the pasture so shady? Why does the cow not wander around and only stays in his ring of shade? Perhaps, the servant thought, if the cow truly belongs to the gods of harvest, then he may not like the extreme heat of this summer too much. After all, even the plants do not like it. After some more pondering and a nap, the servant got up at noon and stuffed twigs into his empty water bottle. Then, he lighted a fire, lit a twig with it, and dropped it into the bottle so that a flame burned brightly in the gl*censored*. He strode to the pasture.
“Dear cow, if you will not give me milk, then I shall unleash this bottle of heat unto your pasture. It will be stifling hot like an oven.” The servant raised the glowing bottle.
The cow shifted and snorted. “Come here, servant.” The servant came, expecting the cow to finally grant his wish. “Lift the cork off the bottle and put it just under my nose.” The servant did so. With one black eye staring in the bottle, the cow gave a big snort. The fire in the bottle fluttered then died. “A trickery that only fools can think off,” the cow stated arrogantly. He charged at the servant, who ran away to his camp.