The Farmer's Story: 'Cool Waters'
A short story about farmers, farming and hope by R Hopcott
Cool waters glisten enticingly under a diamond blue sky. My time on this earth in this moment seems to hang balanced between the ebb and
flow of the tide that rocks against our tiny beach ... and the scream of the
herring gull. The evening breeze is warm upon my face and brings with it through my open
window the aroma of seaweed and heather. But soon darkness like my feelings
will sweep across the bay. It will creep into every crevice and coppice until
it hides the moorland from the cottages and buildings that for centuries our
family of farmers have called home. As always to me the scenery seems timeless but as bright day becomes sombre
night, times have changed. The cow sheds lie empty. Occasionally a door will
blow shut in the wind and the sound will echo through the vast enclosures where
milking was done and a living was earned for my fathers family and his fathers
before. The track between the barns and house is grassed over. No cattle these days to
churn it into an ankle deep muddy soup. The fences are falling apart and the
hedges are reclaimed by nature. BSE and global farming markets have taken their
toll. I drag my gaze away from the view through my study window across the bay and
focus on the flickering screen in front of me. Its secrets are a simple stroke
away and the keyboard seems to wait expectantly for my command. It is a step I
fear to take. Hardly daring to look, I slowly type in my login and password. My thoughts drift back to the thousands of hours I have spent on this computer
since the auctioneer came and took the livestock and farming equipment away.
Long days passed quickly as the web pages grew and were uploaded to the
Internet. The global highway seeemed to welcome me. It teemed with activity and
energy and brought the hope of work and employment even to this remote rocky
outcrop of the West Country. "Build some really interesting web pages and advertise products and services in
between your content" the man from the government advisory service had said.
"When people use the advertising links to check out the offers (free stuff is
best), you get some money. Everybody is happy!" It seemed like manna from heaven. I set to work immediately and upload after
upload sped away into the night. I still remember the excitement as the first visitors were recorded and the
even greater excitement when they browsed and found things of value (usually
free stuff) to take away with them. Slowly as the days passed, more came to visit. The pages of my website became
like fields in my farm. The borders were the hedges populated by links to
advertisers instead of wild life. Slowly the commission began to accumulate - a
cent here, a dime there - very occasionally, even, a dollar. But as the cents and dimes grew so did the envelopes that slipped through my
letter box and lay, demanding money with menaces, on my door mat. And the
demands were not for cents and dimes but for much more. Electricity bills,
telephone bills, even bills for food for my family and the largest of all, the
interest on the loan from the Bank. When I had difficulty paying, the Manager
increased the rate and imposed more charges. Today is the last day, before tomorrow, then the Bank Manager will come. He has
been before and will not come again. He will send the auctioneer next time ....
unless. I try to keep my hands steady as I press the return key to gain access to the
commission figures from my advertisers. The screen flickers and the numbers
slide into view. 1000 visitors since yesterday
. My spirits soar. It's the highest number to have read my stories in one day -
ever - and the result of hundreds of hours recently spent in a last ditch
desperate push to promote my site to the search engines and increase the number
of visitors! I avidly search the page for the figure that matters, find it and, trembling,
read the amount my stories have earned in the last 24 hours from the
advertising ....10 cents. -------------------- The waters of the bay feel cool and welcoming. Tiny crabs scuttle across the
ocean floor beneath me. I can swim a mile easily, then I will begin to tire.
Two miles and there will be no turning back. Better no letter - this policy
will certainly pay and the farm will be saved. The salt of the water feels good
on my lips and the sea slides luxuriously past my body as my steady strokes
take me onward. -------------------- Later in the evening, a tousled, fair headed little girl wanders into her
Daddy's study and gazes at the flickering screen. She shivers. The room
suddenly feels cold although the sun is shining brightly against the wall. As
she closes the window, standing on the tips of her toes, she can just see the
view to the bay outside. She turns and gazes again at the screen. One day she knows she will understand
properly all the numbers that have started to appear. Occasionally they go
slower and she can just make them out, but mostly they are changing so fast she
cannot read them. Commissions earned from supported advertising: $0.10 $0.10 $0.10
$1.50 $16.20 $35.98 $120.45 $145.67 $300.23 $500.40 $800.65
$1,567.88 $10,436.00 $25,780.21 .... Finally, the numbers slow, come to rest and the room is suddenly warm again.
The little girl doesn't notice this but takes one more look at the big number
at the end and smiles happily to herself, thinking:
'Daddy's finally found a way! He will be pleased .... ' The End
Copyright of these short story Rob Hopcott
2000 - 2006, All rights reserved. All characters are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person living or otherwise. |