Two shots in the summer fields

Please Queue the song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvspwoZPnrU

The sun was slowly climbing above the valley. It rose over the verdant pastures, glimmered in the lively creek and reached the murmuring field, where the golden summer grass gently swayed waking the wildflowers. There, hugged by the neglected weeds stood an old barn. The rays touched the sides of it, like idle fingers, pulling the old paint away, chip by chip

Inside, in the scattering darkness, under the swaying barrel of a shotgun sat a sobbing Man. "-Please Senor, I didn't do it!" -He begged again in a breaking whisper "-Please" The one wielding the shotgun winced. The stale stench of sweat surrounded him like a cloud, whiskey coated his mind: "- You.. you lying dog!.." He slurred resentfully, and his eyelids, swollen form revelry drinking, shot open- eyes illuminated by a filthy idea: " If you didn't steal it.. and.. and I don't have it.. -He theatrically patted his pockets, almost tumbling to the side, balancing the gun- Then I know who must've.. STAY.." And turning clumsily The Drunk exited the barn.

Blue stars, awoken by the gentle Sun, flooded the fields. A sea of purple-blue Chicory unfurled in the crisp morning air and almost reflected in the clear sky. The Sun rose above the plains seeping into them, color dripping and saturating the nature as if it was a watercolor painting. Horses grazed on the pastures softly fanning their tails, dragonflies darted in the weeds and white butterflies twirled in the light breeze. The night fog barely lifted from the fields as a loud explosion tore the last bits of serene morning to shreds.

The drunk returned to the barn in a quarter hour, that seemed eternal to the beaten Man. Entering victoriously he demonstrated his trophy: A little girl, no older than nine, still in her nightdress. "-Papá?" she uttered terrified. The Man's eyes filled with rage, his temples pulsed, forehead sweated, he attempted to get up, but The Drunk pointed the gun at him with a smile: "-ah-ah-aah" He was still roughly gripping the child's arm. "Did you take the necklace?" he looked the girl in the eyes. They were wide with fear, her breath shallow, she was standing in the pool of her own pee. "-Papá?" - She cried and tried to break free. The Drunk yelled: "-The necklace!?" All shaking, the child reached for her neck and demonstrated a golden cross, as tiny as a thumbnail. The Drunk raged and a shot sounded in the barn. The girl fell on her side motionless.

The Drunk stumbled into his bedroom. He leaned the shotgun against the chair and shooed the skittish cat off the matrass. He fell on the bed and fumbled about in the sheets, tucking the yellowed pillow under his face. Suddenly he felt the string of pearls under his fingers. Without looking he clutched the pearl necklace in his fist and slurred to himself smiling: "hennever tookit" And fell into a deep slumber.

Another gunshot stirred up the prairie: The horses scattered crushing tender poppies under the hooves. The crows rose above the glistening hay, disturbing the peace with frantic cawing. The Man exited the farmhouse and leaned on the tilting doorframe. A little girl smiled at him and stretched her arms to try and support him. Hot tears ran down from The Man's bruised eyes, pinching the ripped purple skin on his cheeks. He lifted the girl, and she hugged his neck so lovingly, as only innocent children can hug. He kissed her cheek and hobbling away he quietly sang to her: "Ayayayayaaaaay ..Cantaba ..Cucurucucu ..Lloraba ..Cucurucucu ..Paloma"

The blades of grass parted, welcoming the travelers and concealing their journey. The bees scurried about in the rolling waves of grass as the life went on in the pastures. The hay swayed in the light afternoon breeze and the immense field hugged the old barn