Sunday, 15 October 2017

Short Story: Village Tales: The Barn Dance Bonanza

by Nina Watson

It was a chilly autumn night in Maplebottom, but the heat in the barn was positively tropical. It was a see of worn denim, checked shirts and novelty cowboy hats on the heads of all the regular Maplebottom dancers.  Susan Hornslade was stripping her willow all over the barn and Pam Turner was behind the refreshment table, as usual, handing out plates of questionable cuisine that she’d concocted. Madge Greene was subtly trying to do-si-do her way over to the chairman of the Village Council who, in turn, was quite obviously promenading very quickly away from the busybody. Fiona Port was watching on with an amused little smirk on her face as she waited for her elderberry gin to slowly take effect on the participants. The drink was sinful really, sweet as summer and deadly like no other, Fiona’s gin was known to take a toll on a person for quite a while. With such vigorous moves being thrown on the dance floor, everyone had guzzled the gin down like it was water and Fiona had felt slightly conflicted about keeping mum on the potency of her gin. Oh well, she thought, everyone was old enough to look after themselves….

“Pam. Pam. PAM!” Madge shouted from the hay bale which she was currently trying to stay upright upon. Pam, not much better, was currently gripping her husband Andrews shirt in an iron fist and trying to put one foot in front of the other all the way over to Madge’s bale. “Pam, I love you I really really do. I’m so jealous of you and I don’t know why I’m telling you that but I am. Pam it’s the jam. Ha! That rhymed, anyway I just need to tell you that your jam for the jamboree was amazing, honestly beautiful.” Madge threw her arms around Pam with such force that both women flew off the hay bale into a giggling mess on the floor. Susan, God bless Susan, was twirling gaily by herself in the middle of the barn dancing to the band who had also started to feel the gin, judging by the frequent bum notes from the banjo. Men and women were hunched lazily together slurring and stumbling and trying as hard as they can to keep their eyes open. Fiona sat with a contented smile on her face with her head resting on her palm, knowing that this years barn donate would go down in history. She couldn’t help but wonder how many attendees there would be at church tomorrow morning…

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