I realized that this thread is still open, therefore, my tag links to a post I can edit freely. I have decided to abuse this power.
I've had some regrets about the Butterchurner. For one, I realize now that the material really couldn't be done justice in such a short format, as obviously it lends itself to a novel. Secondly, I now see that the story isn't solely erotic, and really, if you look at the text, the logical way to take it was in an action/adventure story. Finally, William wasn't right for Donna. I don't know what I was thinking. It basically goes against the entire message of the story. So, I'm going to try to give Donna her due and write a full-length novel version of the Butterchurner with everything the original lacked. This could take awhile, and it's going to start off kind of slow so please be patient.
The Butterchurner: Unabridged Edition
==Chapter One: An Amish Girl Named Donna==
The crow had stayed in place for some time now. Donna had sighted the bird earlier, when she went to milk Martha, the family cow. The crow was rested upon the post before the trail. The dark feathered creature eyed her, as if to study her. It was a peculiar beast. There was a feeling that it must have had a sense of purpose. As if someone had sent the bird to be there, at that very moment.
Donna tried to pay the animal no mind and went through her chores, as any good Amish girl should be expected. But now, as the sun began to rest, the animal remained. Unmoved for hours. The orange light struck it in a way that made it appear larger than it truly was. Donna was not afraid of the creature, merely fascinated. Once her chores were done, she leaned against the front porch pillar and watched for awhile, as if the stupid bird was going to do something interesting. Finally, after some time, the crow cawed. It’s fearsome cry could be heard clear as day, before it took flight and vanished in the tree line.
“Crow cawing at dusk!” a frail, shaky voice suddenly spat out. Donna was startled by the sudden breaking of silence. “Tis an omen of death,” Granma Miriam said as she shakily made her way to her chair on the porch. Donna went to help her grandmother to her seat, but the stubborn old woman batted her away. “You watch. By daybreak, death will come. Sure as scriptures.”
“You mustn’t speak of such things, Grandmother,” Donna said in her calm, sweet voice. “Father says such predictions tread upon the blasphemous.”
“Your father,” Granma Miriam said with a hint of disgust. “Stubborn as a mule, and only twice as wise. I know he says my mind is gone. Well, we’ll see. We’ll see.”
The sun began to draw back behind the trees, and disappeared under the horizon. Only the small remains of a dissipating orange hue hung in the sky, as night began to creep forth.
“Death is coming,” Granma Miriam repeated her thoughts with an assured nod. “I can feel it lingering by. Only a matter of who it’s come for.”
Donna ignored her insane and odorous grandmother’s doom saying and let the thoughts roll off her back. She took another look out into the woods and made a wistful sigh, thinking about how trapped she felt in this Amish way of life. But her introspection was soon disturbed by a call from her mother.
“Yes, mother,” Donna replied. Without waiting for a response, she walked back inside the house and made her way to the kitchen, where her mother was setting out a meal for the family.
“Donna, dear, fetch a pail of water for us,” Donna’s mother Ruth commanded. “And call for Jakob and Martha to come inside to eat.”
Donna obeyed and grabbed the pail, heading out back. As she made her way across the field, she saw her younger siblings, playing about in the dirt. She called to them, “Head inside now, you two. It’s time for supper.” The children quickly dusted themselves off and chased each other to the back door like a couple of children, because they were in-fact a couple of children, and really it was to be expected of them.
The pump rested at the top of a hill, where one could look down and see all of the Amish community. From here, Donna watched as her neighbors went about their business. This was one of her few means of entertainment that was not forbidden by her father, and to most people it would be very boring, but to Donna, it was also only moderately boring, which in Amish perspective was somewhat interesting. It was getting dark and the people became silhouettes. Donna began to pump water into the pail and soon made her way back home.
The family gathered at the table, which her father had built with his own two hands just last Summer. It was a fine table as far as tables go. Donna’s mother took the water and poured everyone something to drink. As Donna took her seat, her father Jebediah entered. He was a large, towering man with a foreboding presence. He had to duck under the doorframe as he walked in, and every step he took seemed to echo through the house.
“Smells fine, wife,” Jebediah said to Ruth. He walked over and kissed her forehead before taking the final plates from her and setting them before Granma Miriam and Martha. As he did so, Jakob reached forward and picked up a pea from a bowl in the center of the table, preparing to eat it. Jebediah saw it and quickly, pointed to him. “You’ll be getting the switch. Not until the blessing.” Jakob dropped the pea and tried to look innocent.
Jebediah took his place at the head of the table, between his mother and Donna. Ruth soon took her place at the opposite end and everyone held hands.
“Heavenly Father, we give you thanks for this food that we are about to eat. And may we forever be your humble Amish servants. Amen,” Jebediah said frankly before taking a roll and placing it on his plate. He took the saucer of rolls and handed it to Donna who took one and passed the dish on.
As the family continued to prepare their plates, Ruth asked Jebediah, “Did you get all of the plowing done today.”
“I did,” Jebediah said as he placed a scoop of peas on his plate. “Should be a fine harvest come autumn.” He passed the bowl along. “I will be needing to head to market tomorrow. Our reins have worn down to nothing, and I know John was running low on leather. I’ll take some of your needlework with me to trade. Donna, I’ll be needing your help as well.”
Donna tried to hide her smile. “Yes, father,” she said. She always longed to see the outside world, and her father’s trips to the market had been her only means of doing so. It had been months since she’d last seen any signs of the modern era, and she was thankful for a chance to end the monotony.
The meal continued as would be expected and once everyone was finished, Donna assisted her mother in clearing the table, which again, not to oversell the thing, but it was a really nice table, with a fine brown finish that was as smooth as marble. Just a really good table.
Once the table was cleared Donna walked onto the porch where the family was already sitting around, doing Amish things. Jebediah read from an almanac and her younger siblings played jacks or something. Eventually Granma Miriam started to sing an old hymn and the family enjoyed it. Donna, however, found it difficult to be involved. She feigned interest, but inside her mind she was miles away.
"I suppose it's time for bed," Jebediah stated as he clapped his book closed. "Rest well, Donna, as we have quite a day tomorrow."
Donna nodded, "Yes, father." She smiled with genuine glee. It had been months since she had left the community and the thoughts of modern society danced around in her head.
The family all began to drift inside and to their respective rooms in the house. Donna, for the first time in her life, has been given her own room after the death of her aunt last year. While she was certainly remorseful for the loss, she was thankful to finally have some privacy away from her siblings. She went upstairs to her room, across from her parents' room, and prepared the arduous task of changing into her nightgown.
Once the house had fallen quiet, Donna paid special edition to the pocket watch on her nightstand. She watched the minute hand in the moonlight from her window. She watched as it budged ever-so-slowly. Finally thirty minutes had passed, and she felt safe. Donna cautiously crept out of her bed. Her bare feet met with the floor planks and she tiptoed across her room. In the dark, she knelt down and pushed on the wall until she found the loose plank. It was the perfect hideaway, and you'd never know it was there. Donna had discovered it years earlier when she was a child, spying on her aunt who used the spot to hide sweets. With the plank pulled away, Donna removed the jewelry box of her contraband.
Donna removed the Walkman cassette player and dug around in her limited library of tapes until she found the one she was looking for. Taking a careful look at her door and listening for any commotion, she stepped to her window. She slid the window open, making sure to be perfectly silent. From her window she could step out onto the awning above their house's front porch. She lied down on her back and looked up at the starry sky, completely free of light pollution-- one of the few genuine perks of being Amish. This was her refuge.
The cassette clicked into the player and Donna shut the lid. The ear buds fit perfectly into her ears. She pressed play.
An explosion of music. Her mind suddenly ascended.
"A modern day warrior
Mean, mean stride
Today's Tom Sawyer
Mean, mean pride"
Donna closed her eyes and let the music take her away, rocking her foot back and forth with the beat. Far from all of this Amishness. For approximately four minutes and thirty seconds, she was free.