​Part 3 of 3See the full text at http://skinner.fmTonight we present another chapter of our current Mother Gran serial. In this final installment, we are provided a glimpse into the motivations of our elderly, baby-snatching heroine.
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030 - Missing, A Mother Gran Story, Part 3 of 3
[Music] Welcome to FlashPulp episode 30. Tonight's tale, missing a mother grand story. Put three of three. [Music] This evening's episode is brought to you by Mexican wrestling. Seriously, how awesome are those masks? [Music] FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. 400 to 600 words brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight we present another chapter of our current mother grand series. In this final installment, we are provided a glimpse into the motivations of our elderly baby snatching heroine. Missing, a mother grand story, part three of three. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, art and narration by Opoponax, an audio produced by Jessica May. The sun was slipping behind the hills to the west when an excited makey spokes pulled his buggy up short at the gate. Jorren had seen the boy's dusty plume approaching and had altered his path back from the fields while fishing in his pocket for a handful of loose oats. As the farm hand stepped on to the lowest of the gate's runs, thunder snuffled up the offered grains with flapping lips. "I haven't seen you this excited since your maw found old man Pilfer and Dame Madison in the middle of misusing her outhouse," Mickey smiled. "Nor since your senile grand was found standing naked in the Humphrey's kitchen smiling and mumbling after crumb cakes." Neither senility or hunger were at fault when it was your father standing. "One of the Turner girls was gone missing," Mickey said, his sudden interjection bringing a laugh out of Jorren before the seriousness of the matter had settled into his ears. Three-leg Turner says a coyote must have come and snatched her in the night, right from her bed, but Jeannie told the gathered woman on the loyalist's veranda that she thought it more likely the babe awoke in the night and wandered off on its own. "A picky coyote to have selected from such a menu, but I, babe's will walk," Jorren said, his fingers once again digging into his pockets. Ma says a woman ought to at least cry while telling such a tale, but given the unseasonably warm days and the long sleeves Jeannie has been seen to wear, Ma also thinks it may be the case that she's already had reason enough to cry herself dry. What of a search? Constable Will's has gathered as many upright citizens as he might, and they pound the thickets as we speak. I myself am part of the effort, having ranged ahead with thunder here to see if the child might not be walking some back lane. More like you've been wandering up and down the road's telling tales, "At least if any you leave and your wake should see the girl, they'll know not to take it for a forestling," Jorren told the truth with a smile. A trait Mickey had always found hard to anger at. "I should be about my business," the boy said, taking hold of the reins. He stopped short, placing a hand above his brat with exaggeration. "Hark, could yonder form be the missing girl?" "Nay, wait, it seems to me to be the lovely form of your cousin Ella." Jorren threw the remaining oats at Mickey as the boy cracked the leaves with a laugh. Amongst the silent hay the two women sat on either side of the serving tray, their legs crossed. Grand had waded into the spokes boy had roared from the gate before making her way down the long cow path to the barn. Balancing the platter with teapot, a bowl of honey and two cups, she'd used her free hand to climb the steep rungs to the loft, all with such silence that her guest was startled to see the steaming service rising up from the latter's gap. The tray itself was a finely crafted slab of maple, its edges flourished with a motif on each side, dragon, fish, monkey and goat. Mother Grand served as the mousey woman fussed at the sleeping child in her arms. The same hands that coaxed her into that bed will eventually knock her out of it, mark my words. It may not be long before its genie herself lying up in this hayloft. The old woman dipped a spoonful of honey into a steaming cup, stirring slowly. Still, his fourth wife, and yet you're the first I've heard to ask of her babe, and lucky in your case that it was but one. Return now to your dentist in the north, and speak not of this unless the need be true. The women talked a while longer until, as night settled, Joran left the gate, turning his mules northward. From amongst his load of hay came the sigh and hush of a mother's love, reclaimed. Flashpulp is presented by http colon slash slash skinner.fm. The audio and text formats of Flashpulp are released under the Canadian creative commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 lessons. [Music]