The Effect of Frost on Southern Vines by Sandra Bunting

Author:Sandra Bunting
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary fiction, short fiction, Irish short fiction, Canadian fiction, Canadian short fiction
Publisher: Gaelog Press
Published: 2016-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

LIONS’ DEN

Remy walked in the door dragging the baby llama by the hind legs so that the soft white neck swept the floor. Its face looked peaceful except for the dash of red behind the ear. The neck, though, was limp all the way down, a sure sign it was dead. Remy dropped the carcass and sat down on a stool.

“We’re going to open him up in the morning. We’ll take a knife, start at the end and slice up.”

“Why?” was all I could manage.

“It had a disease.” He took a cigarette, lit it and let it rest at the side of his mouth.

“It looked okay yesterday. It was running about,” I said. “What was wrong?”

“We’ll know tomorrow.”

I wasn’t going to give Remy the satisfaction of showing how I felt. When I first saw that llama, I thought it was one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. Pure white – not a mark on him – with big black eyes and large teeth not yet stained by life. He was affectionate, rubbing against his mother, and it let me run my fingers through his soft wool before skipping away.

Remy threw the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. He reached behind his back and pulled out a large revolver that was tucked into his trousers.

“This is what we did it with.”

“Did what?”

“Killed him.”

It was a crude comment by a crude boy who had no respect for the beauty of life.

Remy fidgeted with the gun. It looked like it had a history. There was a long snout. It was tarnished, scratched and discoloured.

“This is Etienne’s gun from Algeria!”

“What do you mean from Algeria?”

“From the war?”

“Etienne’s too young to have fought in that war.”

“Yes, but his father was there and gave him the gun. He really saw some action.”

Remy wasn’t actually pointing the gun at me but he was impulsive and I was getting nervous.

“Is the gun loaded?”

“What’s the use of a gun that isn’t loaded? Do you want to hold it?”

I put out my hands to take it. It was heavy and cold and, despite the disgust I felt, I wanted to fire it, to feel its warmth and power. Dropping it on the ground, I stepped back.

“Girls just don’t know how to handle weapons. Etienne said I could keep it for a few days.”

He picked up the gun and rubbed it as if he were cleaning it.

“I’m going out later to shoot at birds. Do you want to come?”

I shook my head. I looked down at the baby llama one last time and walked out.

“You won’t be forgotten little one.”

* * *

The animals were restless. The hyenas were at it all night. Wolves joined in, mixed with snorts and growls I did not recognize. Drifting into sleep, I saw the angelic face of the little llama dripping with blood.

At breakfast in the big old kitchen, everyone at the animal park was in a cheerful mood. The men had already eaten and gone. Marian was singing as she poured hot milk into the coffee cups.

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