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Post by Floyd Looney on Apr 25, 2009 11:46:37 GMT -5
He was approaching what they called 'middle age' but he still liked to go for walks through the woods and around the pond on his property. This 40 acre property was his pride and joy, it had taken years to even make a down payment.
His wife thought he was nuts at first but moving out 'to the country' had been a very good idea. Get away from the big city, its crime, its influences, its bad air. The kids had improved after the move and now one was in college and the other was in the armed forces. He loved this property.
Except, now sometimes he felt a chill, like something was watching him. Jonathon Watkins had taken to carrying his shotgun and thinking about getting another dog. Their family dog Watty had died years ago and nobody had wanted to replace him.
He had also started hearing reports and news articles about crime in the county. Evidently the problems plaguing the cities had spread out to the rural areas. It galled him that this would happen, that it would someday come and look for him.
The woods seemed darker than normal and he could swear there were things watching him. Every now and then he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye but it was gone when he turned to see it clearly.
He cursed himself. Maybe he was just getting paranoid. Maybe this was what they called his 'mid-life crisis'?
He heard his wife call out from the back porch, usually it was his five-minute warning that dinner was about ready. Well, he called it the five-minute warning, he never told her he thought of it that way.
He took a few steps and thought he heard leaves crunch behind him. Behind him was a clearing, he turned his head quickly to see if there someone back there.
OK... who wants to add on to this story?
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Post by Uncle Undies on Apr 25, 2009 20:29:39 GMT -5
Jon saw a black bird, a crow maybe, about three feet off the ground heading upwardly. He moved his head in synchronization as the bird danced weightless in the now still air. The bird eclipsed the thin slats of sunlight pouring randomly into the dusk between the oak leaves high above. The realization that it was still a sunny day between the end of his wooded path and the walk to the back porch gave Jon a sense of ease. Jon was always fearless with the sun on his face.
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Post by Floyd Looney on Apr 26, 2009 17:28:28 GMT -5
He took his older truck to the end of the gravel driveway in order to check his mail. He noticed a utility truck down the road with its boom extended. He could not see anyone in the cherry picker bucket.
It was getting overcast and windy and he wondered why he had waited until evening to check it. Probably because he wasn't really expecting anything. He noticed a line of crows on the top wire strung from one utility pole to another.
For a second his stomach turned as he remembered one of the many classics of Alfred Hitchcock, which he had last seen several years before. He had recieved the Trading Post weekly ad circular that came to everyone in the area whether or not they subscribed to the Weekly Herald-Telegram.
He glanced again at the utility truck, nothing had moved over there and he hadn't seen a single worker. Something about it seemed very odd but he didn't dwell on it. He was still thinking about the crows.
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Post by Tamara Wilhite on Apr 30, 2009 17:09:57 GMT -5
REWRITE: edited out cliches and condensed it
John Watkins was approaching what they called 'middle age', but he still liked to go for walks through the woods and around the pond on his property that wore younger men out. This 40 acre property was his pride and joy; it had taken years to even make a down payment. His greatest accomplishment to date was paying off the property.
Jon’s wife thought he was nuts at first, but moving out 'to the country' had been a very good idea. After all, as a nurse, she could work just about anywhere there were people. Eventually, she liked it. Get away from the big city, its crime, its influences, its bad air. No more gun shot victims, bodies to put back together after beatings and muggings, and no worrying about the danger of working the night shift. The kids had improved after the move, too, now that there were fewer bad influences around them. Now one was in college and the other was in the armed forces. He loved this property, as its clarify helped filter and then radiate the better parts of themselves.
Yet he felt the chill again, like something was watching him. It only happened out far from the house, when he was alone but for God. John had thinking about getting another dog. Their dog Watty had died years ago, and nobody had wanted to replace him.
He had also started hearing reports and news articles about crime in the county. Evidently the problems plaguing the cities had spread out to the rural areas as people moved out and away from the density, but still carried the bad habits with them. Almost like a cancer or plague spreading. It galled him that this would happen, eventually, that it would someday come and look for him. If it was, indeed, a human troublemaker.
The woods seemed darker than normal, though there were no great clouds. He cursed himself. Maybe he was just getting paranoid. Maybe this was what they called it his 'mid-life crisis'? If he were older, it would be chalked up to delusions of dementia.
He heard his wife call out from the back porch, usually it was his five-minute warning that dinner was about ready. He took a few steps backward, keeping his eyes on the dark areas that threatened to become full shadows or form. He thought he heard leaves crunch behind him.
Jon saw a black bird, a crow maybe, about three feet off the ground heading upwardly. He moved his head in synchronization as the bird danced weightless in the now still air. The bird eclipsed the thin slats of sunlight pouring randomly into the dusk between the oak leaves high above. The realization that it was still a sunny day between the end of his wooded path and the walk to the back porch gave Jon a sense of ease. There would be no surprises in the sunlight. John was always fearless with the sun on his face.
He wife called again. His one minute warning. John ran back to the house. His wife was waiting and sunset would be here soon. Home to food and electric lights.
The night was pleasant and reassuringly peaceful. With morning, he took his older truck to the end of the gravel driveway in order to check his mail. John noticed a utility truck down the road with its boom extended. He could not see anyone in the cherry picker bucket. Nor were any maintenance crew about anywhere on the road. Not even a “men at work” sign and warnings to slow down.
John noticed a line of crows on the top wire strung from one utility pole to another. For a second his stomach turned as he remembered one of the many classics of Alfred Hitchcock, which he had last seen several years before. He had received the Trading Post weekly ad circular that came to everyone in the area whether or not they subscribed to the Weekly Herald-Telegram.
He glanced again at the utility truck. Something about it seemed very odd, but he didn't dwell on it. After all, county crews were known for laziness. And it could have always been stolen by a “refugee” kid for kicks. The reasons for an abandoned truck faded out of his mind. He was still thinking about the crows, and the lack of road kill to justify their numbers.
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Post by Floyd Looney on May 1, 2009 0:08:56 GMT -5
Thanks Tamara, thats a very good rewrite.
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