A day in my time. A short example post of yourself in a creative tale.

Today started like any other day. I milked the cows, I herded the sheep and I sowed the crops but today something special happened. Gurder the local smith offered me the most interesting proposal.

If I brought him two of my cows for his family dinner he would smith me a new shovel that my father so achingly needs to temper his abhorrent back. Elation filled me like a newborn cub spurring me to giddiness at such a thought. Father was an old man and like a good first born it was his job to care for his old man.

I was on my way to deliver the cows to Gurder when a rather talkative fellow decided to fancy himself a conversation with me. Like the simple farmer I was I indulged the chap. Running up to me he looked like a complete hooligan with messy brown hair, rags and bloodshot eyes that spoke of his rather lowbred upbringing. Such a cur would be fit as a servant to a wealthy plantation owner such as himself.

The fellow squinted at him with wonder, "Arr dar a farmer mee?" The hooligan asked unintelligently.

"What?" I asked in shock. The fellow seemed to not hear him simply babbling on in his rubbish. Feeling anger I struck the fool in the jaw at slowing down one such as I. Farmers like myself were held high and such a fool interrupting me deserves nothing less.

Sputtering on the ground the Nat looked shocked but not caring I simply walked past as the fool laid there. Finally back on track I crested a hill after an arduously long time and found the object of my journey.

Gurders house was shortly away and he could feel elation at completing his journey. He could see Gurder and his kin gathered near the front door waiting with hungry bellies for the meat he brought. Today was a fine day for him and the Johnson line.