Excerpt: Stirring

Red Crossing:
Fine dust filled the air, dancing, suspended in the streaming sunlight peeking through the cracks of the barn wall. Smells of hay and animals filled the air, a faint whiff of smoke blew in across the wind. In the hay loft there came a soft groan and the rustle of hay as a young man, slightly hung over, was slowly drawn to life in the morning. He lay blinking in the morning light of the open loft window, half buried. Shaggy auburn hair disheveled with bits of straw woven in through his locks from his slumber. Emerald green eyes protested the sunlight and he slowly he obliged their desire as he drew hand and arm up shielding them. He hadn’t recalled feeling so sickly other than the time he had been hit with the flu, this was a new experience.
It had been his seventeenth birthday the night before and his father saw fit to acquaint him with the oldest of coming of age customs, ale. Lots of ale from the private stock belonging to the man of the house, his grandfather. The two men had sat up most of the night under the stars, drinking, and having long discussions of what was expected of men. Rather, what women expected of men. The youth hadn’t quite remembered how he ended up sleeping in the hay loft, but he could recall his mother speaking rather loudly when the two stumbled in and upset the delicate balance that was his mother’s temper when they were unable to navigate the common room and perhaps caused some damage to something or other.
Laying in quiet repose, he had given no thoughts to chores, work, or the events from the night before. The only thing on his mind was an unsettling queasiness and an irritating sensitivity to noise. Suddenly, his name was blasted across the farm by none other than his mother. “JASON!” He cringed and felt his world shift in color and scent. He wanted to sit up and maybe run and hide, but the best he could manage was another groan followed by a slow roll laying face down in the hay.
A second call went out. “JASON!!” This one was more irritated than the last and closer. He knew it and while he should have been feeling panic and an eagerness to spring into action all he felt was the lead filled space between his ears trying to leak out his nose. A third call came, and this one very much so in the barn and so painfully loud that Jason had no recourse but to lift his head and answer back with a strangled voice.
“WHAT?!” There was a slight moment of silence as this mother gauged how hung over he might be given the sound of his voice.
“Have you seen your father?!” She stood down at the foot of the ladder, peering up into the loft. Jason, furrowed his brow. He hadn’t even seen his feet yet much less his father. Rolling back over, he began to sit up slowly, grabbing at the air as if it could give him leverage in his attempt. Shaking his head, it dawned on him that she couldn’t see him at this moment.
“No,” he called back. It was at that moment the hay on the other side of the loft began to move and his father sat up slowly, picking the straw out of his hair and beard.
“What do you need, woman!” Jason looked over at his father in the hay, a bear of a man with a thick beard. Propping himself up with his arms behind himself, he looked up at the barn’s ceiling. It was going to be a bad day.