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| 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.
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Posted by Hermes11 on 2009-11-08 01:44:33 | Rating: | Views: 21
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