Rebecca Mahoney Fanfiction Draft 2

Days of Heaven (1978) Directed by Terrence Malick

The Golden Hour

In the exhale of day, they swam together in the caramel light. Soon dusk would evade them; a day closer to a freedom which was now tangible like silk cords tugging at their fingertips. Entwined they lay  tracing each other's palms and fingerprints; restless wheat tossing ever-lengthening shadows across their noiseless bodies. Overhead a kestrel soared, its haunting call encircling the farm.

Abby fingered a crack in her right boot, the leather parched and worn like the ground beneath it.

"I'll get new pairs now.
Linda too.
Matchin' gloves.
From the city an' such."

Bill said nothing, his brow furrowed as he pulled seeds from the ears of wheat between his legs. The eruption of chattering sandpipers on the bank eventually broke the silence. Bill rose and brushed the soil off his trousers. It had been a dry summer in the Panhandle.

"This hole's gon' take all night if we don' crack it now.

I'm damned if we'll hang 'round for me to get caught with a spade in ma' hands." 

The golden hour had been a period of reflection before. Smooth waves of light flowed like river currents along their thoughts and soliloques. To marry or not to marry? To murder or not to murder? Sunset had almost escaped their desperate grasp, leaving in her wake a trail of flickering counterparts. Above their darkening heads, a silhouetted flock of birds flew in formation towards the farmhouse. 

Abby spoke.

"Do you think he'd like it if we let him lay there with his crops a lil' longer?"

Over Bill's shoulder the Farmer lay still and lifeless, his remains crudely rolled in the parlour rug. Suffocation had done no favours for the Farmer's postmortem appearance; trademark bruising to his neck and dull bloodshot eyes pointed to his untimely departure. Bill shuddered and turned to face Abby, her own complexion ashen. He pressed her face against his shoulder and they stood together, listening to eachother breath.

"We need t' finish what we started. Linda's gon' start to worry soon enough."

Nodding, Abby stepped back from their embrace and picked up one of the spades. She raised the handle above her head and plunged the face into the earth. Crisp and thirsty, the soil cleanly parted and she heaved the spadeful away behind her. Again and again, Abby repeated this until her bloodless arms gave up. They dug in silence, the velvet night time encasing their fear and racing minds.