Image Credits: Pixabay and my own manipulation in Photoshop

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This story is for @svashta. I originally provided @svashta a writing prompt, which he eagerly accepted, not once, but twice. Now we have both decided to write a Part 3:

Part 1 - The Slaughterhouse by @Svashta
Part 2 - The Slaughterhouse by @Svashta
Part 3 - The Slaughterhouse by @Svashta
Please enjoy my alternate version of Part 3!

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Clarabelle's Miracle

Clarabelle's eyes gradually come in to focus, and she could see blood everywhere. Anxiety rose from the pit of her first stomach and then to all four of them. She tries to rise to her feet, but her legs shake, and she crumples back on to the cold floor of her cell.

Upon closer inspection of her self and her surroundings, things don't seem quite right, very peculiar in fact. The blood was her own. There were numerous bandages and dressings on her body, and she hurt all over. She couldn't hear any of the others; this room was quiet. Perhaps she wasn't at the slaughterhouse after all? She recalls the strange sensation of being airborne with all of her friends, Mary, Bessie and the others. Flying was joyful; she had never experienced freedom like this in her short life.

"Pfft" ... she thinks to herself, as she imagines just how ridiculous the idea of flying is for cows. Everyone knows that cows cannot fly, that's impossible. However, this crazy dream, surreal as it is, seems like reality to Clarabelle. Her last memory was floating through the tree, with Mary by her side, She calls out to the other ladies.

"Mary, Bessie, Angela, are you there can you hear me? It's me Clarabelle! Where are you? Where are we?", she hears no response from her ladies.

Clarabelle then hears the sounds of boots, thumping closer to her location, her body stiffens, as she prepares herself for the worst.

An older gentleman appears at the entrance to her stall and gazes down at her. He was kind looking, and he had suspenders and a plaid shirt. His face was smiling at her; he enters the paddock, Clarabelle stiffens and once again tries to stand but her legs quiver and buckle under her weight as she tries to rise, her body slumps back down on the floor.

The man kneels down beside her head and scratches her gently behind the ears. He then reaches into his pockets for a handful of grain. Clarabelle relaxes a little and accepts his kindness and treats.

"My name is Bob, Bob Braveheart. You are one lucky cow! Took a fire truck and a crane to get you out of that tree! How in the world did you get yourself up there?" mumbles the man to himself. "What should I call you, old girl?"

"Clarabelle!", I say brightly.

I see the blood drain away from the man's face, and he falls back slightly, "I must be getting senile, I thought I just heard you talk, old girl," said Bob.

Now I feel taken aback, as I realise that I just spoke to Bob in a very human sounding voice, and he seemed to understand me. What the heck? Flying and now this? Maybe I am high? I'll run with it, I think to myself.

"Clarabelle! My name is Clarabelle," I say in my soft feminine voice.

"Clarabelle," says the man, "I think I am turning into a crazy old fart, and I think I heard you call yourself Clarabelle," he laughs.

"My name is Clarabelle, " I say indignantly. "Where is Mary, Bessie and the others? Where am I? Are you going to make me into steak dinner?"

Bob laughs, "No, I am not going to eat you, I am vegan. I run an animal rescue. They brought you in, in pretty rough shape. You hit your head pretty hard, but no broken bones. You have been out for three days now; I have been looking after you. Now tell me I'm just crazy and not talking to a cow?"

Hmm, I thought to myself, that would explain why my head hurts. Maybe I did fly into a tree? Perhaps none of this was imagined? I tell Bob the whole story from the beginning when I was at John's farm, our sale to the slaughterhouse, and our timed escape from the tractor-trailer that was hauling us to our deaths, and then guiding the others across the field as we all began to take flight.

The story checks out with Bob since there was an accident involving cows and a tractor-trailer earlier that week. Bob tells Clarabelle what he knows of the incident. He said that thirty cows and the driver were all killed when the tractor-trailer flipped.

Clarabelle's eyes fill with tears, thinking of the loss of her friends. She will miss Mary and Bessie the most, but this makes no sense since she remembers flying with the whole herd, not by herself. If everyone was dead, how can she possibly be here?

Bob and Clarabelle, become very close friends and sometimes they would talk for hours at a time about everything from animal rights to politics and anything in between. Bob's wife had passed away twenty years ago, and his kids were all grown up and seldom came to visit, so the friendship was very special to Bob because he was a very lonely man. Nobody would believe he had a talking cow anyway, so he just never mentioned it to anyone.

After several weeks Clarabelle was feeling good again. Her head dressing removed, and she was steady on her feet once again, so she had been doing some walking to regain her strength. She remembers the sensation of flying, and the next thing she knows she is gliding around in barn having the best time ever. Just then Bob opens the barn door.

"Clarabelle, sweetheart, where are you?"

"I'm up here Bob!"

"Up where?" says Bob as he glances around the barn not looking up.

"Up here!"

Finally, Bob tilts his head upward to see Clarabelle hanging upside down off the ceiling. He watches her swoop down and slowly lower herself to the barn floor in front of where Bob was standing.

"I can fly Bob! I didn't imagine it before; it was real! I can fly!" I say with excitement.

Bob's face once again appears ashen, "What the hell? I really must be crazy now."

"Hey, Bob! Jump on my back, let's go for a ride! It will be fun; I promise I won't hit any trees this time I promise. I've got the hang of this now," says Clarabelle.

Bob uses a stool to climb aboard Clarabelle's back, and she uses telekinesis to open the barn door, as they fly out into the mid-afternoon skies over the treetops.

"Whoo hoo," cries Bob as they fly off.

End of Part 3

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@braveheart29 xx

Edited: I included the link for @Svashta's story