Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #19 October 2015 | Page 8

well, Sharla.”

Mikkel owned just enough land to grow a
vegetable garden. The house had a thatched roof and
walls covered in climbing roses. He had raised four
children in that house and loved the same woman all
his life. In years past, when his horse clomped into the
yard his passel of babies would rush out to meet him,
thrusting frightened frogs and bugs up where he could
examine them, demanding kisses and tickles, feeding
little bits of food to his horse. The yard was empty
now. All of his children were married with homes of
their own.

Sharla’s smile faded. “Have some supper. Everything looks better on a full stomach.”
Mikkel’s wife cooked food both hearty and
good. Later, they made love by firelight until they
were both sated. She lay with her head against his
chest and he wrapped his arms around her.
“My love,” Mikkel whispered. “You have never been so beautiful.”

Smoke drifted in lazy billows from the stone
chimney. Sharla would be making supper now.
Heart-weary, Mikkel curry-combed the mare and
poured oats into her feed bag. Then he went inside.
Sharla hummed to herself in her sweet alto as she
stirred some fragrant pot. She turned when the door
closed, smiling. On their wedding day, she had been
slender and spry, long hair shining in that afternoon’s
sunlight. Her eyes were the bluest he had ever seen,
bluer than the cornflowers her sisters had braided into
her hair. She had laughed up at him, danced in his
arms. That night, the first time they made love, she
wept. Now she had gained weight, and her hair was
as much silver as gold. Her face was soft and lined,
crinkling up at the edges with long years of laughter.
Her eyes were still so blue.

Sharla laughed, voice husky. “Old fool, you are
going blind. I am fat and wrinkled.”
Mikkel reached for her chin and tipped her
face up to his kiss. “Nothing has ever been as lovely.
Forgive me if I ever forgot to tell you so.” )M