More creative writing, how boring

~Ann came home after school to find a cow in her living room.

School had been stressful. The children hadn't behaved and the temperature was far too cold for the one room schoolhouse's stove to hold at bay. Ann trudged through the pasture between her house and the school, careful to miss the treacherous patches of ice coating the snow. She tucked her fingers under her arms; her gloves left a lot to be desired.

As Ann made her way to the gate, she groaned inwardly. Its wooden slats hung loose. "Oh you stupid beast," she mumbled, her lips stiff with cold. It was evening and to the north a storm was gathering; dark, troubled clouds, and raising wind that bode ill news. The temperature would drop far tonight. "That cow will just have to care for itself," was her decision.

She made her way up the two steps to her door, pushed inward into her small home. It smelled strange. And over the moan of the wind Ann heard something heavy fall with a crash to the floor. She screamed, jumped behind the door and carefully peered around its solid comfort into the room. By now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

Ann laughed with relief. Across the room, leaning against the table, was the errant cow. It had made itself at home, enjoying the comparative warmth. Who wouldn't?