Colors of the Rainbow: Golden Rays
Disclaimer: Mine is mine, while Marvel's is Marvel's!
The golden rays of the sun cascaded down, striking his bare brown shoulders. He leaned back, placing his hand over his eyes to shade them, and looked around. No one was in sight, not a single one of his brothers or sisters. That was strange in itself; there was so many of them, they tended to run every which a way.
He reached up one long fingered, callused hand and brushed a lock of blonde hair off his fore head. The sunlight fell on it, making it glow with the same kind of sparkle as white gold. Sweat dribbled down the side of his face, rolling down his neck to fall on his shoulder. It made a puddle there and he reached up his hand to brush it away.
Rubbing his arm across his face again, he drew off more of the little beads of perspiration that had formed there from the fiery heat of the sun. Stretching his shoulders, he felt a bone crack in his back, sending a deliocusly delightful feeling through his cramped body.
Sighing softly, he bent back to his work, hoeing at the clean black earth under his feet. It smelled fresh and pure, not tainted with the evil of man yet. The young man set his long handled hoe down on the ground, watching as it made an indention in the soft soil.
He rocked forward on his toes, and slowly sank to the ground, his muscles straining against his confining jeans legs. He balanced his elbow on his knee, and cupped his hand, setting his chin on the palm of it. His fingers drummed across the area between his nose and his mouth, as his bright blue eyes darted around, looking for some hint as to what was going on.
The earth was springy under his feet, and he bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, getting a feel for the new position he was currently resting in.
Off in the distance, a bird called to its mate. He swallowed softly, letting the sun warmed wind blow through his hair. Another sunlight strand fell in his eyes, and he reached up to push it back again.
He looked down at the earth and smiled as he noticed the wiggling of an earthworm, trying in vain to escape his hoe. He looked up again, feeling a sense of Heaven suddenly descending on him.
This was where he belonged. This was his home, this was the only place that he ever wanted to be. This was the only thing that he ever wanted to do.
He wanted to work the clean smelling soil with his hands, fell it stain his already brown hands. He wanted to listen to the birds calling to each other, wanted to watch an earthworm crawl home, and wanted to smell the wind as it blew down from the mountains to kiss his sweat drenched fore head.
He'd always known, in his heart of hearts, that he was not meant to live a life of fighting. He took his joy from so much more simpler things---the love of a good woman, the smell of home cooking, the wind blowing his hair around his face.
This was what he wanted. Not the consent second-guessing, the fighting, the hiding out, the blood. This was his paradise, his Eden. The fresh smell of hay in the morning, mingling with the morning biscuits that his mother made everyday. The cleanliness of the dirt on his hands, the love of a good woman in his heart.
All he needed, all he would ever need, was here in this sun drenched land of green hills and pine and dark black earth. His moonlight angel; his family and friends; his home and his purpose. All that was here in this strangely beautiful, rough land.
He finally stood up from the earth, letting it fall on his shoes and his dirtied jeans. Dusting off his hands, he brushed his hair back, and lifted his hoe, driving it into the dirt and pulling it up again. His muscles moved smoothly over his bone, rippling slightly as he pulled on the farming utensil.
The golden light fell on him from up above, and he looked up, smiling slightly. It warmed him to the very bone, like the love for this land and all that lived here brought him.
It was a good way to make a living, Sam Guthrie decided.
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