Birthday drabbles part 2
Dear VO1,
I'm pretty sure I remembered your birthday, but even so, Happy Belated Birthday from me. I chose the ginger option, with a sheep. I hope you enjoy. This one got completely out of hand.
As a side note:
cariad - a term of endearment meaning darling, usually used in girlfriend/boyfriend relationships, but can apply here too.
dafad - a sheep
Also. This has two endings. I liked the first ending a lot, but I couldn't resist shoving Robyn in there.
“Uncle Ceiffen.”
“In a moment, cariad.” His hand cast a large shadow over her as he motioned for her to quiet down.
Carys took a step back and lifted her head as high as possible to get a good view of her uncle’s face. She clasped her hands together, eventually shoving one of them as much as she could into her mouth and gnawing lightly on her fingers while she waited for his attention. She couldn't help but look at him with a kind of awe as he towered above her. Sometimes he seemed so tall she thought that he could touch the sky; she hoped one day she would be that big - maybe when she’d become ten years old.
When she decided that 'a moment' had past and he still hadn’t yet looked down, she deemed that higher measures were in order. So, removing her now drool-soaked hand from her mouth, she clasped the calf-area of his jeans and pulled on them repeatedly. “Uncle Ceeeeiffin, uncle Ceeeeiffin!” When she’d repeated these steps two or three times he stopped talking to the man mummy had called ‘the nice boss from work’ and looked down, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. “Yes Carys? What is it?” His tone was firm.
Carys frowned with eyebrows so light they were nearly imperceptible. She didn’t like it when uncle Ceiffin was cross with her and it made her lose her train of thought. “I want-” she swallowed, her impossibly large green eyes staring up at him. The shining sun was too bright to allow her to look at him for too long, so her gaze shifted to her left, past the barbecue where daddy was frying sausages, past the people who were here for her mummy’s birthday party, and past all the birthday decorations which had been set up in the garden of Uncle Ceiffin’s house.
There it landed on a lone sheep, standing on its four stick-like legs behind the area where mummy had said was too far for her to play. Almost as if it knew she was staring at it, it looked up, all weathered skinned and yellowed, deformed teeth, with one eye clouded over where it should have been black. In Carys’ opinion it was both fluffy and stupid. Its wool was dirty and its bum had bits of poo under its limp little tail, but it didn’t seem at all embarrassed as it chomped endlessly on muddy grass. She thought it was all very horrible.
She pointed at it and pulled on Ceithin’s jeans again, her tight, red ringlets bouncing on her head as she shook. “It’s looking at me,” she said with a whine which may have threatened tears if she could have her way.
Ceithin’s gaze followed his niece’s finger until he noticed the sheep. He looked down again and gave her a gentle but slightly bemused smile. He’d never be able to understand how children worked. “It’s alright, it’s just a dafad. It’s a sheep, it won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t seem to quite believe him as she looked to her left again and then back up to him, and then again at the sheep, clutching her little green dress nervously. “I don’t like it.” Her voice was wavering further as she approached him and leaned her entire weight onto his leg, wrapping her skinny, tiny arms around his calf and rubbing her face into his shin. He distinctly heard a whine, and he knew if he didn’t do something quick she’d start wailing.
With a tiny sigh and a look in his sister’s direction he picked her up. “Come on then, no tears.”
The whining stopped immediately as he lifted her in the air, throwing her just out of his grasp for good measure. The feeling of weightlessness for those few seconds made her giggle. “Again!” she squealed.
He obliged, throwing her up one more time before clutching her lightly against his chest. “There see?” He pointed to the sheep. “Now you’re taller than him and he’s frightened of you.” He poked her lightly in the chest for emphasis.
She looked back at the sheep, still unsure. “He’s not.” She let her head thump onto his collar bone, causing pain in a way only small children could, and hid her eyes with her hands. She put her hand back into her mouth.
“Oi,” Ceithin pulled it out carefully, doing his best to avoid the spit which came with it, “what have I said about putting dirty fingers into one’s mouths?”
Carys tried to ignore him and shoved her hand back in again, tucking her head further into his chest in an attempt to hide.
“Carys,” he said. But she only shook her head, rubbing her forehead against his cotton shirt and pressing painfully into his collarbone again.
“Carys,” he repeated, this time his tone warned her that he was beginning to get cross again. She pulled her hand out reluctantly and turned to look at the sheep, resting the side of her head fully against his chest.
“When- when will it go awaaaaay?” She extended the last word as if desperate for an answer.
At that point it chose to bleat and move in about a foot closer.
Carys panicked and screamed, managing to do the latter right in his ear. Ceithin tried to pull his head back, his eyes involuntarily closing as the piercing sound ripped through his eardrum and into his skull, but he didn’t have long to recover as Carys managed to dig her black buckle shoes just under his ribcage, doing her best to scramble further up her uncle and wrapping her clammy hands around his face, with one of her wet fingers finding its way up his left nostril. “Uncle Ceiffin! It’s scaring me!” she yelled out in amidst a flurry of tears and wails.
After a few seconds of “Let go of my face Carys!” and frantic attempts to unclamp her from him, he managed to successfully pry her away. Her wails, however, did not subside and she tried, yet again, to burrow herself within his embrace.
Realising that asking her to stop crying would not work (he’d been trying that one since the day she was born and had failed every, single, time) he simply readjusted her and clutched her tightly. “Right, get ready Carys, we’re going to run.”
She stopped sobbing for a moment to ask for clarification. “What?” she hiccupped as she rubbed her eyes with balled fists.
“We don’t say ‘what’ we say?”
She hiccupped again. “Pardon,” she mumbled, her voice still wavering.
“Good girl.” He pulled her head forward and gave her a small kiss on her head. “Now, you’d better hold tight because we’re going to run.”
“Why?” She didn't understand this. She did not understand this at all. Running from so high up was a horrifying thought.
“Because, we’re going to go scare the sheep away.”
Carys’ chest began rising and falling in an exaggerated manner as her breathing came heavy and fast, a new onset of tears beginning. Terror was evident on her pale features. “No! No! I don’t want to!”
Uncle Ceiffin didn't seem to care in the least. “No buts," he said, unreasonably ignoring her perfectly reasonable fears (what if they went too fast? What if the sheep didn't run away? What if the sheep started chasing them?!) "Hold on tight now, let’s go!”
“I don’t want to run! Uncle Ceiffin no!” she yelled, panicking, and doing her best to squirm out of his grasp.
Ignoring Carys’ pleas he jogged towards the poor sheep, though to a small person his relatively slow pace felt like they were whizzing by at the speed of sound.
She screamed all the way to the end of the yard, hot tears pouring from her face.
“That’s right,” Ceithin said, “scream so he’s scared! Hooga Booga Booga! Hooga Booga Booga!”
At the funny noise which came rumbling out of her uncle, Carys suddenly stopped wailing, completely taken by this unexpected turn of events. And when the sheep moved away from them, bleating loudly in annoyance at having been forced away from its chosen feeding area, she began to giggle. “Hooga Booga Booga!” she yelled and then looked at Ceithin, feeling very pleased with herself as she wiped away the clear snot which ran from her nose with her sleeve.
He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her down gently. “There we go, see? Not so scary now, is he?”
Carys’ smile was huge as she shook her head, showing the two rows of perfectly tiny square teeth, each separated by large gaps.
When he saw that he'd gotten her to stop crying, a small well of love and pride brewed within Ceithin. One day he hoped he’d be good like this with his own children. She hugged him across the face again and this time she managed to slip a finger into his left ear.
“Shall we scare him again?” his question was muffled by her body but she understood enough, pulling back and nodding enthusiastically. He turned towards the sheep and he ran at it again, this time both of them chanting “Hooga Booga Booga!” and sending the sheep away a few more feet. The two were a mix of deep laughter and baby giggles, red ringlets and white strands flowing in the late afternoon breeze. Completely opposite and yet the exact same.
They continued to do this for some time.
~*~
Robyn noticed that Mina was staring strangely out to the distance. She turned to find out what she was looking at only to see her usually stoical younger brother running around on the field behind the house, her daughter in his arms as they yelled at a sheep. “Did you want to sit down? Your feet must be hurting,” she asked when she was finally able to take her eyes off of the scene. She patted Mina’s extremely large belly to make her point.
Mina looked at her sister in law and completely ignored her question in favour of one of her own. “What on earth is he doing?”
“Scaring sheep.” Robyn made it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Mina frowned, slightly concerned. “Did he do that often when he was younger?”
“Oh, all the time.” Robyn waved her hand in the air, dismissing Mina’s astonishment at the scene before her. “Notice the sheep isn’t moving very far? He’s quite used to it. He knows Ceithin won’t actually hurt him.” Robyn looked thoughtful for a moment “Although he did scare him off of a small ridge once when he was fourteen…”
Mina raised an eyebrow. “How old is that sheep?!”
“That’s a very good point.” Robyn walked away from Mina, towards the end of the garden. “Rhys! Rhys Ceithin Jones! Stop it now! That sheep is very old! You’ll give it a bloody heart attack!”
I'm pretty sure I remembered your birthday, but even so, Happy Belated Birthday from me. I chose the ginger option, with a sheep. I hope you enjoy. This one got completely out of hand.
As a side note:
cariad - a term of endearment meaning darling, usually used in girlfriend/boyfriend relationships, but can apply here too.
dafad - a sheep
Also. This has two endings. I liked the first ending a lot, but I couldn't resist shoving Robyn in there.
“Uncle Ceiffen.”
“In a moment, cariad.” His hand cast a large shadow over her as he motioned for her to quiet down.
Carys took a step back and lifted her head as high as possible to get a good view of her uncle’s face. She clasped her hands together, eventually shoving one of them as much as she could into her mouth and gnawing lightly on her fingers while she waited for his attention. She couldn't help but look at him with a kind of awe as he towered above her. Sometimes he seemed so tall she thought that he could touch the sky; she hoped one day she would be that big - maybe when she’d become ten years old.
When she decided that 'a moment' had past and he still hadn’t yet looked down, she deemed that higher measures were in order. So, removing her now drool-soaked hand from her mouth, she clasped the calf-area of his jeans and pulled on them repeatedly. “Uncle Ceeeeiffin, uncle Ceeeeiffin!” When she’d repeated these steps two or three times he stopped talking to the man mummy had called ‘the nice boss from work’ and looked down, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. “Yes Carys? What is it?” His tone was firm.
Carys frowned with eyebrows so light they were nearly imperceptible. She didn’t like it when uncle Ceiffin was cross with her and it made her lose her train of thought. “I want-” she swallowed, her impossibly large green eyes staring up at him. The shining sun was too bright to allow her to look at him for too long, so her gaze shifted to her left, past the barbecue where daddy was frying sausages, past the people who were here for her mummy’s birthday party, and past all the birthday decorations which had been set up in the garden of Uncle Ceiffin’s house.
There it landed on a lone sheep, standing on its four stick-like legs behind the area where mummy had said was too far for her to play. Almost as if it knew she was staring at it, it looked up, all weathered skinned and yellowed, deformed teeth, with one eye clouded over where it should have been black. In Carys’ opinion it was both fluffy and stupid. Its wool was dirty and its bum had bits of poo under its limp little tail, but it didn’t seem at all embarrassed as it chomped endlessly on muddy grass. She thought it was all very horrible.
She pointed at it and pulled on Ceithin’s jeans again, her tight, red ringlets bouncing on her head as she shook. “It’s looking at me,” she said with a whine which may have threatened tears if she could have her way.
Ceithin’s gaze followed his niece’s finger until he noticed the sheep. He looked down again and gave her a gentle but slightly bemused smile. He’d never be able to understand how children worked. “It’s alright, it’s just a dafad. It’s a sheep, it won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t seem to quite believe him as she looked to her left again and then back up to him, and then again at the sheep, clutching her little green dress nervously. “I don’t like it.” Her voice was wavering further as she approached him and leaned her entire weight onto his leg, wrapping her skinny, tiny arms around his calf and rubbing her face into his shin. He distinctly heard a whine, and he knew if he didn’t do something quick she’d start wailing.
With a tiny sigh and a look in his sister’s direction he picked her up. “Come on then, no tears.”
The whining stopped immediately as he lifted her in the air, throwing her just out of his grasp for good measure. The feeling of weightlessness for those few seconds made her giggle. “Again!” she squealed.
He obliged, throwing her up one more time before clutching her lightly against his chest. “There see?” He pointed to the sheep. “Now you’re taller than him and he’s frightened of you.” He poked her lightly in the chest for emphasis.
She looked back at the sheep, still unsure. “He’s not.” She let her head thump onto his collar bone, causing pain in a way only small children could, and hid her eyes with her hands. She put her hand back into her mouth.
“Oi,” Ceithin pulled it out carefully, doing his best to avoid the spit which came with it, “what have I said about putting dirty fingers into one’s mouths?”
Carys tried to ignore him and shoved her hand back in again, tucking her head further into his chest in an attempt to hide.
“Carys,” he said. But she only shook her head, rubbing her forehead against his cotton shirt and pressing painfully into his collarbone again.
“Carys,” he repeated, this time his tone warned her that he was beginning to get cross again. She pulled her hand out reluctantly and turned to look at the sheep, resting the side of her head fully against his chest.
“When- when will it go awaaaaay?” She extended the last word as if desperate for an answer.
At that point it chose to bleat and move in about a foot closer.
Carys panicked and screamed, managing to do the latter right in his ear. Ceithin tried to pull his head back, his eyes involuntarily closing as the piercing sound ripped through his eardrum and into his skull, but he didn’t have long to recover as Carys managed to dig her black buckle shoes just under his ribcage, doing her best to scramble further up her uncle and wrapping her clammy hands around his face, with one of her wet fingers finding its way up his left nostril. “Uncle Ceiffin! It’s scaring me!” she yelled out in amidst a flurry of tears and wails.
After a few seconds of “Let go of my face Carys!” and frantic attempts to unclamp her from him, he managed to successfully pry her away. Her wails, however, did not subside and she tried, yet again, to burrow herself within his embrace.
Realising that asking her to stop crying would not work (he’d been trying that one since the day she was born and had failed every, single, time) he simply readjusted her and clutched her tightly. “Right, get ready Carys, we’re going to run.”
She stopped sobbing for a moment to ask for clarification. “What?” she hiccupped as she rubbed her eyes with balled fists.
“We don’t say ‘what’ we say?”
She hiccupped again. “Pardon,” she mumbled, her voice still wavering.
“Good girl.” He pulled her head forward and gave her a small kiss on her head. “Now, you’d better hold tight because we’re going to run.”
“Why?” She didn't understand this. She did not understand this at all. Running from so high up was a horrifying thought.
“Because, we’re going to go scare the sheep away.”
Carys’ chest began rising and falling in an exaggerated manner as her breathing came heavy and fast, a new onset of tears beginning. Terror was evident on her pale features. “No! No! I don’t want to!”
Uncle Ceiffin didn't seem to care in the least. “No buts," he said, unreasonably ignoring her perfectly reasonable fears (what if they went too fast? What if the sheep didn't run away? What if the sheep started chasing them?!) "Hold on tight now, let’s go!”
“I don’t want to run! Uncle Ceiffin no!” she yelled, panicking, and doing her best to squirm out of his grasp.
Ignoring Carys’ pleas he jogged towards the poor sheep, though to a small person his relatively slow pace felt like they were whizzing by at the speed of sound.
She screamed all the way to the end of the yard, hot tears pouring from her face.
“That’s right,” Ceithin said, “scream so he’s scared! Hooga Booga Booga! Hooga Booga Booga!”
At the funny noise which came rumbling out of her uncle, Carys suddenly stopped wailing, completely taken by this unexpected turn of events. And when the sheep moved away from them, bleating loudly in annoyance at having been forced away from its chosen feeding area, she began to giggle. “Hooga Booga Booga!” she yelled and then looked at Ceithin, feeling very pleased with herself as she wiped away the clear snot which ran from her nose with her sleeve.
He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her down gently. “There we go, see? Not so scary now, is he?”
Carys’ smile was huge as she shook her head, showing the two rows of perfectly tiny square teeth, each separated by large gaps.
When he saw that he'd gotten her to stop crying, a small well of love and pride brewed within Ceithin. One day he hoped he’d be good like this with his own children. She hugged him across the face again and this time she managed to slip a finger into his left ear.
“Shall we scare him again?” his question was muffled by her body but she understood enough, pulling back and nodding enthusiastically. He turned towards the sheep and he ran at it again, this time both of them chanting “Hooga Booga Booga!” and sending the sheep away a few more feet. The two were a mix of deep laughter and baby giggles, red ringlets and white strands flowing in the late afternoon breeze. Completely opposite and yet the exact same.
They continued to do this for some time.
~*~
Robyn noticed that Mina was staring strangely out to the distance. She turned to find out what she was looking at only to see her usually stoical younger brother running around on the field behind the house, her daughter in his arms as they yelled at a sheep. “Did you want to sit down? Your feet must be hurting,” she asked when she was finally able to take her eyes off of the scene. She patted Mina’s extremely large belly to make her point.
Mina looked at her sister in law and completely ignored her question in favour of one of her own. “What on earth is he doing?”
“Scaring sheep.” Robyn made it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Mina frowned, slightly concerned. “Did he do that often when he was younger?”
“Oh, all the time.” Robyn waved her hand in the air, dismissing Mina’s astonishment at the scene before her. “Notice the sheep isn’t moving very far? He’s quite used to it. He knows Ceithin won’t actually hurt him.” Robyn looked thoughtful for a moment “Although he did scare him off of a small ridge once when he was fourteen…”
Mina raised an eyebrow. “How old is that sheep?!”
“That’s a very good point.” Robyn walked away from Mina, towards the end of the garden. “Rhys! Rhys Ceithin Jones! Stop it now! That sheep is very old! You’ll give it a bloody heart attack!”