"Cover up ya ears, boy."
    It must be an instinct to squeal, or cluck or whatnot right before.  I know a lot of animals do that.
    Maybe you just have a sense, a deep ache in your tummy.       Maybe The Lord sends down his love and light, so you see what gon' happen.  Maybe your heart and soul sends out a scream or a cluck or a moo or whatever right before, therefore it is a response to what is about to happen.
    Lemme start over.
    "Cover up ya ears, boy."
    I rest my hands on my ears, parting my fingers just so I wasn't completely shut off from the familiar scene.
    It's weird being five.  You only know what you grew up with.  You don't really remember anything before being five.  You also don't know the difference between right and wrong.
    My eyes tried to focus on the two figures in front of me.  It was dark, the only light was seeping in through the cracks between the slats of wood.  The hay was shiny, golden in the morning sun.
    "Please!  Please, help!"
     Her eyes were swollen, I could tell.  She choked on tears, and snot that ran down into her parted lips.  She was hyperventilating, a word I hadn't known back then.  I knew she was doing something, and I couldn't describe it.  A feeling I always hated.
     I stare, with a blank face.  I am not phased.  This scene was all I knew.
     "God, I beg of you!  Ple-e-e-ease..."
     She looked up to the lord.  She prayed as she tried to squirm, and pull away, even though she knew she couldn't.
     Bubba started humming a tune we had heard on the radio earlier that morning, while Momma made us some french toast.  It had a light hearted sound, and Bubba tapped his foot along to it, his boot hitting the rusty floorboards with a thump.
     Bubba was an odd man.  He didn't like us calling him "Father", "Dad", or even "Papa."  He insisted we call him Bubba.  We respected the man, therefore we called him Bubba.  It was a cut and dry thing, just call him Bubba and that's that.
     Bubba hated two things most in the world.  Being called a proper term, and city folk.
      I tuned everything out.  The only thing I could hear was the melody of the song, and Bubba's footsteps as he neared the girl's head.
      She screamed some more.  Cried some more.
      Thumpity thump-thump.
      Bubba swung the axe over his head, narrowing his eyes.  He brought it down with all his weight, while his eyes burned with adrenaline.
      Thumpity thump-thump, thumpity thump.
      The hay did not shine so beautifully after that.  It was no longer golden, but dark and dense with a beautiful red-brown tone.