Sign Up |  Login

     
 
    My Blog |  Popular Posts |  Top 100 Blogs |  Recent Blogs |  Random Blogs |  Write a Blog |  Manage Categories |  New Members |  Comments  
   View Blog
 
 50th
     He could smell the storm as it rolled in. A regular nor'easter without the snow the forcaster had said. A nice summer storm to start the weekend bringing in plenty of warm weather it to kick off the summer, the words rang in his eardrums. It was too bad this summer weather wasn't coming until mid July. The birds had stopped chirping by now, and the breeze rolling off the water had died, shying away before the twenty-five mile an hour winds that were minutes from sweeping his yard. The silence seemed particularly deafening at the moment; the air a heavy weight on his shoulders. More so than he had experienced in a long time.
      "Vera, come here girl!" a beautiful yellow lab came bounding up from the shoreline below the hill. "Good girl," he said, still staring over the water he scratched her ear and slipped her a treat. His five year old companion sat politely beside him and seemed to stare in the same direction as he, her eyes blank, hiding any thoughts that might lie beneath.
       With no visble change of emotion he turned away from the water, clicked his tongue twice and started walking around the house. Vera promptly followed, keeping pace with him, her coat a few inches from brushing against his leg. The quarter mile stroll to the mailbox was quite uneventful yet Vera stayed next to her best friend throughout the stroll. There were three things in the mail, one was adressed to Julia Longsome, one to Henry Longsome, and another to Jeffery Nearfield. He grabbed all three letters and started the peaceful walk back up the drive. When he walked through the front door he placed one of the letters on the counter with a promise to bring it to his neighbor and threw out the second. After a quick examine of the third and a verdict that it was junk it also flew into the trash bin. Vera had already settled into a worn spot on the living room carpet right next to a tired old rocking chair where he next planted himself. He flicked the radio on next to an old sewing machine that had been far overused at one time but was now covered with dust. Old blues songs rasped through anceint speakers as he picked up a whittled piece of pine. The image of a wolf was starting to emerge beneath the wood's grain as shavings peeled off the solid chunk over the course of about three hours. The creature's escape was suddenly cut short by a knocking at the door. He got up to see a man in uniform standing on the other side of the screen door. 
       "Sheriff," he greeted the visitor, letting him in.
       "We think we have a suspect," Sheriff Jackman replied, skipping any formalities.
       "Look Justin it happened five years ago, I'm just trying to move on with my life at this point alright? I've washed my hands of it,"
       "Sure, fine, I just thought you might like to know... A lot of sculptures you've got there huh," Jackman stated, looking atop the mantle where there must've been thirty-five different animal sculptures all of local pine.
       "I've had a lot of time on my hands,"
       "I'm sure you have," he sighed. "Well if you change your mind you know where to find me right?"
       "Yep," he said already moving towards his chair. "You know your way out,"
       "Yes, I do," Jackman paused a moment before exiting and examined a dusty plate mounted over the kitchen sink; it was made of silver and was dated six years earlier, it had an inscription he couldn't read from where he stood but he could see in large print 50th dead in the center. He sighed once more, closed the door softly behind himself and moved on.
    Posted by Hermes11 on 2009-11-08 01:44:33 | Rating: | Views: 21
    Email This to a Friend            Print This Blog Post  

  Bookmark:
Permalink:  
   Blog Comments
  
Well written! You are probably a writer.
Posted by  Popuas  on 2009-11-10 06:43:30 
  
Reads nice for the start of a good piece with a minor detail that jumps out and smacks the reader right off the bat. The very beginning, how does a "Nor'easter" roll in from the south? Isn't a 'Nor-easter', by its name alone, mean a storm coming in from the north east? Sorry to be a nit picker, but that is just me when I read. Made reading the rest kind of hard with that bouncing around in the back of my head.
Posted by  DarkAngel_Travis  on 2009-11-20 16:08:02 
  
Actually in meteorology the direction the wind is blowing in is used for reference; therefore a storm coming from the north would have southerly winds, from the west would be easterly and so on. Though I do appreciate the thought, I'll see if I can't fix that.
Posted by  Hermes11  on 2009-11-20 23:17:36 
Would you like to comment?

    (Maximum characters: 5000)
    You have characters left.
  Blog Information
 

Hermes11
Greece

Latest Posts

 Crow and the Butterfly
 50th

Hermes11's Links

 No links found

Blog Categories

 Nothing found

Blog Archive

 November 2009 (2)

Comment Archives

 November 2009 (3)

Page load time: 0.43360018730164 ms