How about a wee story for a change

This was a story I wrote for my story performing assessment at college.  I don't write stories as a rule but have to say I was really pleased with the result.

Angela’s log pile.

Angela sighed as she stepped out the door into the cold winter night. There was a full moon shining brightly casting long shadows from the outbuildings. A movement caught her eye. In the corner of one of the buildings was a large black cat. The shadow it cast gave it a long, lean appearance. She stepped forward and her movement startled the animal. The cat leapt up onto the wall of the garden and disappeared into the dark shadows beyond.

Swiftly and silently and owl flew overhead, not a single solitary sound from the movement of his wings. Seconds later Angela heard a slight startled squeaking sound. She knew that the owl had seized his prey.

She moved, on, her footsteps making no sound on the soft snow. In the barn she could hear the cattle moving in their stalls. The chains round their necks rattling and jangling against the walls.

She reached the long low log pile. Bending over she selected a few and placed them in the wicker willow trug she had carried over from the house.

Moving swiftly she turned to make her return journey to the house door. By now she was extremely cold and her breath could be seen clearly in the bright moonlight. She was wishing she had taken a moment to put on her hat, gloves and scarf before she left the house.

The trug hindered her return somewhat due to the weight of the logs. She carried it using both hands; it felt as though it got heavier with each step.

She never understood why her father insisted on the logs being placed by that particular wall instead of near the door. It was always Angela who had to go out on cold nights to fetch logs in. Never could she recall her father carrying out this task.

Angela also had the task of cutting and stacking the logs. One time, several years ago, she decided to move the log pile so that it was easier and quicker to reach. A mistake she never repeated. He got so angry and lashed out at her, striking her several times on the face and head. He yelled at her over and over about how stupid she was and that the logs had their place and that place was over by the garden wall. It was a lesson she learned well, one which added to many other similar events in her life.

She could hear him yelling to her from inside the house so she picked up her pace and hurried towards the light glowing through the door window. She didn’t want him to get angry, she knew what could happen if he did.

Angela placed the heavy trug on the ground, opened the door and then carried the trug in. He yelled at her to close the door, she was letting the cold in. She quickly kicked the snow off her boots then closed the door over.

He was sitting, as usual, by the fire, his back to the doorway of the room. He told her to get a move on, get the logs on the fire before it went out. He called her lazy, stupid and hopeless. That she was good for nothing, just like her dead mother.

At that point, Angela lost all reason. She picked up a log walked slowly and silently over to the chair and bashed it really hard down on his bald head. She continued to bash him till the moaning and groaning sounds stopped. He slumped to the floor. She calmly stepped over him as he was lying, dying on the floor and stoked the fire with the log.

Angela felt that at last she was free. She went outside, got the barrow and started moving the log pile over to beside the back door. Never again on a cold clear frosty night would she have to walk the length of the garden for logs. Never again.

As for her father well pigs will eat anything won't they