Thunderstorm Coming: Rural Fantasy

"Thunderstorm coming."

"Yup."

"Think she'll find it this year?"

He shrugged. "No saying. Her ma got dropped off in that very cornfield thirty years ago, and that's the story she told the girl from the time she was old enough to walk. Just makes sense the child thinks that's where her mama went now, even though we saw her dead and buried in a coffin in the ground. Besides, she always told me that she was from Peoria, before the storm picked her up and deposited her on my land like a present." The farmer looked a bit sad, staring at his worn and roughened hands. "Best present a man could ever get in his life, tell you that much. My girl, she was a present to both of us. I reckon any parent'd tell you the same thing, long as they weren’t of totally no account themselves. My girl, she's also a handful and a half, trouble in her eyes and danger in the way she looks at the local boys. I tell you, it's a miracle I haven't had to get out my shotgun to run them off yet or to get her out of some pickle."

His friend laughed. "Buddy, you haven't had trouble with the local boys because they know you've got that shotgun. Who hasn't seen you shooting at crows in your fields? You get 'em, too. You may have come back from the army and settled down to be a farmer, but a little bit of that's still in you."

He shrugged again. "M'wife hated crows. not sure why. When I found her in that bathtub, she was surrounded by a ring of 'em staring at her like she was their next meal. I reckon that’s enough to--"


Inspiration: http://www.flickr.com/photos/closetartist/8355786204/
Story potential: High.
Notes: Could make an interesting rural fantasy.