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lavender-laney · 5 months

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choking on sea salt, chapter three

chapter 1, chapter 2 part one, chapter 2 part two, chapter 3

Sadie awakens to the sound of creaking wood and footsteps. Her eyes flick open, and she’s met with the very first rays of sunlight streaming through the broken windows and illuminating the dust that endlessly fills the air of this house.

“You awake?” a gruff voice asks, and Sadie startles, the sun’s light suddenly blocked by the stocky man peering down at her, wisps of hair falling over his bloodshot eyes, coveralls hanging off his starved body. Nikolai, she remembers. He’s a rough-looking man, with a crooked jaw framed by thin white hairs that could, in some ways, be considered a beard. His mouth seems to perpetually hang open a bit, revealing gaps in his yellowed teeth.

Sadie throws the blanket to the side, finding the yarn has become even further unwound during the night, and sits up, gingerly moving away from where the man looms over her form. She stands, brushing the floor’s dust from her clothes.

“Yes, yes,” she stutters, wondering how long he’d stood there before she’d woke up. “I’m awake.”

He stares at her for a moment longer before nodding absently. Turning away, the man begins to make his way towards the door, lumbering footsteps leaving imprints in the dusty floorboards. Still shaking off the last dredges of sleep, Sadie follows, and as they step outside she realizes the sun has only just begun to peek its way over the horizon. The moon still overlooks the rolling fields, and Sadie is reminded of summers spent at her grandparents’ farm, of her grandfather shaking her awake at dawn’s first light, of shoving on her grandmother’s old work boots and mucking her way through the barns in shoes a few sizes too large.

The tense silence between Sadie and Nikolai doesn’t have nearly the same peaceful feelings as mornings spent on her grandparents’ farm, however. Whereas Sadie would expect birdsong or the last dawdling crickets from the previous evening, instead the air is filled only by the whistling of the breeze and the scuff of dirt under the pair’s shoes. The sheep pasture is along the dirt road, within the fence that Sadie recalls seeing as Joseph led her into town the night prior.

Nikolai pulls open the gate, and Sadie gets a closer look at the barn that houses the animals and the fence that surrounds the pasture.

The barn is in similar disrepair as the house Sadie spent the night in, though attempts to patch holes in the roof or reinforce broken fences have clearly been made. As they pass through the outermost fence, iron rods have been used to keep the wood standing where it has been weathered. Sadie peers closer and realizes that the fence has not only been aged by the elements but has also splintered outwards at the height of Sadie’s hip in many places. Her steps slow where she follows Nikolai and she leans closer to the wood. Clumps of wool catch in the damaged posts, shadowed by dark stains that Sadie quickly realizes is blood spattered around the impact points. An unnerved feeling abruptly fills her chest.

“Let’s go,” Nikolai calls, standing at the entrance of the barn, looking back at Sadie with a stern expression and shadowed eyes.

With one last glance at the fence, Sadie rushes over, fighting to avoid the man’s searching gaze. He scoffs, leading her further into the barn. The inside is in worse shape than the exterior, worsened by the smell of unclean wool, feces, and mildew. Sadie is sure the horror must show on her face and feels thankful Nikolai has not turned to look back at her, instead bending down with a pained breath to gather a tin bucket in his frail grip. He turns back to her.

“While I head over to the well, go ‘round letting them outta their pens,” Nikolai says, voice gruff. “Now I need you to listen close to this part,” his tone gains a stern quality, and Sadie feels the nerves in her chest tighten. “Do not give any of these animals an opportunity to get outta that fence out there. They like to … wander, you could say, and then I’ll have to come out and round ‘em back up because you weren’t paying attention. So watch what you’re doin’. These creatures are smarter than you’d think.” He pauses, eyes searching her face. “Do you hear me?’

Sadie nods, eyes wide. “Of course, yes. I understand,” she responds.

Nikolai’s eyes stay trained on hers for a long moment before he huffs, heading back out the barn door, bucket held against his hip. “I’ll be back.”

Sadie nods again, waiting until the man has started to make his way out of the fenced area and down the hill towards town. She grimaces. If he has to walk that far to collect water, no wonder his joints ache, she thinks. She’s certainly not complaining, however, and instead takes the opportunity to survey the barn. As she’d noticed before, it’s clearly an old building, and the closer she looks, the more unstable it appears. She risks a glance at the roof above her, and quickly looks away, choosing not to think about the decaying wood above her head. As she steps further into the barn, the sheep pens become more visible. They’re simple, fenced areas bordered by planks of wood. Each one holds a sheep or two, some with fragile-looking young lambs. Many of them, though, are empty, and Sadie is reminded of Mary’s words the night prior.

“We eat what meat is available to us,” she’d said, all shifty eyes and nerves.

Sadie steps up to the low door of one pen, studying the sheep and lamb that rest together within. They lie together, the lamb leaned against its mother’s stomach, but in perhaps the most … detached manner that Sadie has ever witnessed an animal behave. Although they huddle together for warmth, the animals appear as though they’re hardly aware of one another’s presence. Their gazes are glazed and unfocused, legs sprawled out and ears limp against their skulls. Their bodies, especially the mother’s, are littered in bald patches and wounds. The mother has a large wound across her forehead, her wool stained brown with dried blood. Sadie thinks of the damage to the fence outside, the clumps of wool and crusted blood decorating the wood, and cringes at the implication. With their current disposition, she couldn’t imagine either of these animals ramming their bodies against the fence with enough desperation to harm themselves.

Trepidation worsened by this realization, Sadie lifts the latch to the door and pulls it open, and the creaking wood draws the animals’ attention. The sheep blinks, lifting her head, as if reconnecting to the world around her. She stands, clumsily and without care for her lamb, who is sent tumbling to the ground soundlessly. Sadie can’t help the gasp that escapes her mouth, but the sheep doesn’t seem to notice, simply stepping over her lamb and stumbling out of her pen and past Sadie, making her way out to the pasture. Sadie’s gaze follows her, but the sheep continues on her way without a glance back.

The shuffling of hay brings Sadie’s attention back to the lamb, who is attempting to right itself, weak legs shaking under the weight of its own malnourished body. Caught in a moment of morbid curiosity and a cautious desire to help, Sadie steps forward hands outstretched, but the lamb finally gains its balance, shoving past Sadie’s legs without a care. As it walks past, the matted wool on its backside becomes visible, and Sadie wonders just how long the two had laid there together, unmoving.

As the lamb follows its mother, Sadie sighs, attempting to shake away the goosebumps that have spread across her skin. She moves towards the next pen, and the lone sheep it holds. This one, a ram with cracked, blunt horns curled in a wicked shape around its ears, is in a similar state as the first two and makes its way out of the barn in the very same, unnerving manner. She makes her way down the rows, but the last pen draws her to a stop. It holds a young ram, a little too large to be a lamb, but too leggy and awkward to be considered an adult. Its horns are still small, and the tips are dull. It stands in the corner of its pen, facing the wall with a dogged focus. Its legs are racked with shivers, and Sadie wonders how long it has stood there, weakening its muscles to the point of tremors. As she stands there, wondering how to draw its attention to the open door, it leans its weight back on its hind legs, preparing itself, then rears forward with the full force of its body. Its horns meet the wall with a harsh thud as wood splinters,and Sadie flinches, immediately stepping forward to grab at its wool the same way you would hold an unruly kitten’s scruff.

Only after she’s done it does she realize how risky of a move it was, how easily the animal could rear towards her to drive keratin and bone into her stomach or kick out with its hind legs. No matter how frail they may seem, a tired muscle won’t prevent a distinctly hoof-shaped imprint on Sadie’s midsection and worn-down stubs won’t prevent a bruised kidney.

Even as the ram remains still, seemingly unaware of Sadie’s grip on the back of its neck, she envisions what her grandfather would say about a mistake like this one. She remembers the first summer she’d stayed at their house, the first time she’d stepped foot into the barn holding rows of dairy cows --- distinctly in better shape than the one she stands in now, met with the excited calls of hungry cows rather than the eerie silence of ill sheep. Her grandfather had led her to one of the stalls, occupied by the oldest and most tame of his herd. He’d held Sadie’s hand as they stepped towards the animal that towered over Sadie’s young frame. As the cow leaned down to snuffle at Sadie’s hair, her grandfather told her in a steady voice all the ways in which a peaceful creature can be dangerous. How quickly a playful horse can buck its rider, how easily milking a cow can become a hoof to the stomach, how even the sweetest of roosters can dig its spur into soft skin at a too-fast movement.

Sadie releases her hold on the sheep’s skin, nudging its shoulder to turn towards the open door. It follows her touch mindlessly, and the first step it takes out of its hay-filled pen and onto the packed dirt of the barn’s floor seems to bring it to awareness just a bit, just enough to take its own unsteady steps towards the door, following the same path as the others.

Sadie watches for a long, tense moment, and begins to understand the glazed, dissociative look in the animals’ eyes, wondering if perhaps she should’ve stayed in Pruitt’s stuffy classroom listening to the overconfident chatter of Bradbury and his peers. With a thud that splits the heavy silence, the pen door swings closed before her. Sadie snaps back to reality. She shudders, both at what she had just witnessed, and at herself for feeling so affected by it. The seed of frustration that had welcomed itself into her chest last night grows, and she pushes the pen door back open and steps into the pen with a huff, determined to get something out of this strange morning.

The pen looks fairly normal, if a bit barren and dirty, but Sadie moves further in, peering at the wall the sheep had been so focused on. The wood is spattered with blood, dried and fresh, and has started to splinter in places. One such crack has formed a sizeable hole in the wood, about the size of Sadie’s fist, and she kneels down in the hay to peer through it, uncaring for the way its filth dampens her knees. Through the hole, the pasture outside is visible, and Sadie can see the flock of sheep making their way past the barn, towards the farthest fence. Past the farthest fence, the ocean is barely visible, the rolling waves audible if Sadie strains to hear them. Sadie wonders if the sheep simply wanted outside but feels there must be more to it. When she surveys the rest of the barn, she finds nothing more of substance, and resigns herself to the unfulfilled curiosity weighing on her.

“Alright,” she huffs to herself, voice breaking the heavy quiet of the barn. “Alright.”

As Sadie follows the flock’s path, she finds the animals gathered at the farthest fence. Some apathetically dip their heads to gather the yellowing grass of the pasture into their teeth, while the others simply … stare. Just as the last sheep was, they’ve planted their hooves in the dirt and watch the horizon, the ocean, like dogged sentries. Sadie steps up beside them to share the view. The sun has crept its way up past the horizon in the time Sadie spent inside the barn, though the sky is still dark with early morning. The ocean looks calm, waves rolling in and out slowly, meeting the sands of the beach gently. The picturesque sight is marred by the utilitarian iron fence that lines the grass just before the beach’s sands begin. It is tall, tall enough to withstand strong waves and winds. The base of the fence has been rusted by seawater and the sea salt encrusting it is visible even from a distance. Although it would certainly hinder a person from making their way to the water, it doesn’t appear impossible to bypass in any way. Based on Mary’s and Edith’s reactions last night, Sadie wonders if the fence is more symbolic than anything, a reminder of the fear of the ocean already held by the townsfolk.

As Sadie is studying one of the younger lambs, peering at the crooked position of its back leg and the grime encrusting its wool, she hears the outermost fence creak open and turns to see Nikolai carrying the bucket of water. At the same moment Sadie turns at the sound of the door, numerous sheep wheel around quickly, desperately, and force their way towards Nikolai, heavy step by stumbling step. One makes it quite close, too, as Sadie has already moved forward with a hand outstretched, prepared to grab it before it can bolt. Nikolai kicks out with a shout, nearly dropping the water bucket, and slams the gate closed. The sheep is unbothered by his reaction, and rushes forward anyway, slamming into the closed gate with the full weight of its body. It crumples into a heap, dazed by the impact, but its legs continue to kick, pushing at the dirt beneath it, mouth opening and closing without sound.

Sadie can only watch in horror, clenched hands still outstretched, even as the other sheep lose interest, rejoining their position against the far fence. Nikolai scoffs, stepping past the writhing animal to make his way toward the barn. Sadie looks between the man and the sheep, overwhelmed with a desire to move closer to the animal. Not to help, though, but to peer closer at its face, at the way its pupils roam, unseeing, and its mouth begins to foam with its desperation. She wishes she could pull out the notepad that sits in her pocket and record its behavior to study later.

“Are you comin’, or are you just gonna gawk at the damned thing?” Nikolai’s voice calls, and he sounds winded.

Sadie watches the sheep for a moment longer as it begins to lose energy, diminished to a twitching, heaving body. She commits the horrid image to memory, and follows Nikolai back into the barn, finding the man tipping the bucket of water into the troughs within each pen.

“Well,” he begins, heaving a deep breath as he sets the bucket on the ground. “Were there any dead?”

Sadie watches as he picks the bucket back up and carries it to the next stall, turning a calculating eye on her as he walks past.

“No,” she says, wondering what she would have done if she’d opened one of the pens to find a dead, decaying sheep. She wonders what the lamb would have done if its mother had died in the night, if maggots and flies had taken to her body with a frenzied hunger. Would the lamb have continued to lay against her cooling, festering corpse without even noticing her demise? Or, and this thought brings a nauseated feeling to her stomach, would it have joined the scavenging insects in their feast?

Nikolai grunts in response, continuing his task.

“What’s … wrong with them?” Sadie dares to ask, watching Nikolai closely for his reaction.

He pauses in his movements to look back at her. His chest is heaving in exhaustion, and his wrists tremble where he holds the weight of the nearly empty bucket. The looseness of his jaw somehow appears worse than it had just an hour prior, and the shadows beneath the redness of his eyes create a distinctly sickly appearance. Sadie can’t help but be reminded of the fragile, unnerving state of the sheep.

“They’re sick,” Nikolai spits, the most emotion she’s seen from the man. “The animals’re sick, the people’re sick, the land is sick. It’s all goddamned sick, and you’d do yourself an’ the rest of us a favor to get yourself the hell away from this place.”

The silence of the barn is suffocating following the man’s tirade. With the remaining energy from his proclamation, he heaves the water bucket up and dumps the rest of it in the next trough. That seems to be the extent of his capabilities, though, and he drops the bucket with a startling clang. It rolls, stopped by the edge of Sadie’s boot, and the man follows it, sliding down the side of the stall wall, coming to rest in the mud. His chest rises and falls rabbit-quick, and his eyes roll in their sockets.

“Oh god---!” Sadie begins, stumbling forward, kicking the bucket away. She kneels beside him, arms held out but wary to touch. “Are you, are you okay?”

Nikolai turns to meet her panicked gaze, seeming to regain a bit of clarity amid the frenzy. “Don’t you touch me,” he says, spittle flying from between the gaps in his teeth. “It’s your fault, you know? It’s always your damned fault. If you would just learn your lesson, just learn your place,” he leans forward suddenly, gripping at her shirt the same way Sadie had held the sheep’s scruff. “If she had just known her place, we wouldn’t be in this damned mess.”

Despite the pounding of her heart, the nerves wracking her limbs, Sadie’s curiosity, her damned curiosity, latches onto the man’s words.

“If who had known her place?” she asks, voice even, peering into his eyes. “Who, Nikolai?”

His demeanor has changed, though. His eyes have refocused, and they’ve lost their frantic quality. His grip on Sadie’s shirt loosens, and he instead uses his hand to push himself up from the ground, legs wavering beneath his weight. Sadie steps back, disappointment curling in her chest, as he fights to right himself. Once he’s found his feet, he huffs, and turns away from Sadie, bending to retrieve the bucket. Without a word, he carries it back to the corner it was originally retrieved from, leaving it to rest against the wall. Still avoiding Sadie’s gaze, he leaves the barn, making his way towards the pasture fence. The sheep that had tried so desperately to escape must have collected itself in the time it took to refill the troughs and has rejoined the rest of the flock down by the furthest fence.

“You’re gonna come back this evening to gather the animals back into their stalls,” Nikolai says, and Sadie rushes to catch up to where he has opened the gate. The sheep only have time to lift their heads, eyes widening, before the pair have slipped through the gate and closed it behind them. As Sadie pulls the latch closed, the sheep swing their heads back around to return to gazing down at the ocean.

“By myself?” Sadie asks Nikolai, now walking beside him. She wonders if he remembers how he’d acted in the barn, what he’d said, if he’s just choosing to ignore it. Sadie certainly won’t forget the way his crazed eyes met her own, nor the gnashing of his crooked jaw as he spit out the nonsensical words. Not for a long time, she’s sure.

Nikolai doesn’t look back at her when he says, “Can you not handle that?”

His tone is questioning, and Sadie feels like she’s being tested.

“Of course I can handle it,” she responds evenly.

Nikolai nods. “Alright then,” he says simply.

They walk to town in a tense silence, occupied only by the questions filling Sadie’s mind, and the echo of the heaving, desperate breaths of a man and a sheep.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

We're finally starting to get into the interesting parts...

Excited to hear what you guys think!

Tag list (lmk if anyone would like to be added or removed!)

@megarywrites @at-thezenith @repressed-and-depressed @plasma-studios @wrenofthewords @pb-dot @communist-mariner @phantomnations @thelittlestspider @inkingfireplace @silverslipstream @atreegrowss @i-rove-rock-n-roll @your-absent-father @borisyvain @ashfordlabs @digital-chance @boundedsea @kaze-writes @thebearthatreads @innocentlymacabre

#boost!

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lavender-laney · 5 months

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I'd love to say I finished NaNoWriMo strong, but I most certainly didn't lol. I have been chipping away at the Choking on Sea Salt outline, though!

Congratulations to everyone who completed NaNoWriMo, I'm so proud of you!

And congratulations to anyone who participated even a little bit, made ANY progress at all, or got close to their goal! <3

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lavender-laney · 6 months

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Grandmas were so right about puzzles and knitting and crocheting and solitaire and reading slow and slippers and baking and watching deer in the backyard send post

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lavender-laney · 6 months

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I live 🙌

#this is amazing i love it #your writing style is just so beautiful #reading your writing evokes the same feeling as looking at a painting in a museum #other writer

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lavender-laney · 6 months

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If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

#the last unicorn! <3 #peter s. beagle

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