Installment #3
Fred.
Fred looked down the mountain at the little farm below. Now that gray car was not there last night. Oh, I know, that is the boy’s boyfriend. Well, that is weird. What was the kid’s name? Meg’s son. And he was really a pretty nice kid, but something about a guy and a guy. He kind of thought it would be nice if the boy lived a little closer. He would like to get to know him better. Didn’t know why, just thought it would be nice.
Fred turned back up the mountain and started home. He liked to come here to the clearing and watch the sunrise. Couldn’t see it from his cabin. Way to many trees. Same with the moon. If he wanted to see the moon when it was big, he had to come here because when it got high enough for him to see, it was little. He walked slowly turning his head from side to side. He loved this mountain and it’s beauty never ceased to amaze him. The smells were so fresh and the colors so vibrant. He stopped and threw his head back and breathed deeply. The mighty Rocky Mountains! He felt so small when he looked up at their majesty. He began to hum softly, “Oh beautiful, for spacious skies. For amber waves of grain. For purple mountains majesty, above the fruited plain.” Oh, why couldn’t he have written that song? Well, mostly cause he was not a song writer for one thing.
Fred suddenly became morose as he wondered just what he was. He had never studied to be anything. He had worked here and there doing this and that. Handyman stuff mostly. Yeah, he had been a Marine for four years, but that was only four years. Never really needed to work. Always a loner. Oh, there was that woman in Kansas that he had years ago, but he ran away from her. He had thought about going back, but never knew why. She was just a woman and he did not need any woman. He wondered why his father had killed his mother and hid her in that root cellar. They seemed to be happy, or at least resigned, but then he never really knew them, he guessed.
He sighed as he came into his clearing. He ought to get a dog. Dog would be nice. Maybe a black one. Not a little one; a big one. Not too big though because it would be a house dog. He could talk to it sometimes in the evening. And he could take it for walks. Like Meg. She took her dogs for walks and kept them in the house. Maybe he would get two dogs. Oh! And a cat. Maybe a cat. He had never seen a mouse in his cabin, but if he had a cat it would eat the mouse. Cats were strange things. Meg’s cat acted like a dog. Well sort of anyway. He never seen anyone pet it. He saw them pet the dogs, but the cat was standoffish. What was it’s name? What was the dogs names? It made him sad that he could not remember those things. But why should he? Not like he seen them that often. He sighed and settled into the little chair setting beside the door of the cabin. His life was pretty boring. Did he want it to be different? It might be kind of nice to have people around or to be around people. Maybe he would walk down to Meg’s farm a little later and say hello to the boy. Yes! Yes he would.
He thought of how he and the boy had rescued Meg from the scar faced guy. That must mean something, them doing that. Sure it did. Damn! Why couldn’t he remember the boy’s name?
Then he was distracted by small funnel shaped things in the dirt at the edge of his cabin. Ant Lions. He knew what they were. And he knew how the operated. The Ant Lion made a funnel shaped hole in the dirt. Along came an ant and fell over the side and slid to the bottom. The hole was only about a half inch deep, but to a tiny ant it was quite a drop. And when the ant hit the bottom of the hole, Mr. Ant Lion sprang from his hiding place and ate him. Fred knew this because mother had taught him about the dreaded Ant Lion. He was very small when she showed him the Ant Lion traps and told him the story. He had not slept that night for fear an Ant Lion might get him. When he told mother, she laughed. She called him silly and he had snuggled close and she had held him, keeping him safe. She was such a good mother. He was so lucky she was his mother. And he had slept in her arms and not been afraid of the Ant Lion again.
****************************paid sponsors************************************
Fred.
Fred looked down the mountain at the little farm below. Now that gray car was not there last night. Oh, I know, that is the boy’s boyfriend. Well, that is weird. What was the kid’s name? Meg’s son. And he was really a pretty nice kid, but something about a guy and a guy. He kind of thought it would be nice if the boy lived a little closer. He would like to get to know him better. Didn’t know why, just thought it would be nice.
Fred turned back up the mountain and started home. He liked to come here to the clearing and watch the sunrise. Couldn’t see it from his cabin. Way to many trees. Same with the moon. If he wanted to see the moon when it was big, he had to come here because when it got high enough for him to see, it was little. He walked slowly turning his head from side to side. He loved this mountain and it’s beauty never ceased to amaze him. The smells were so fresh and the colors so vibrant. He stopped and threw his head back and breathed deeply. The mighty Rocky Mountains! He felt so small when he looked up at their majesty. He began to hum softly, “Oh beautiful, for spacious skies. For amber waves of grain. For purple mountains majesty, above the fruited plain.” Oh, why couldn’t he have written that song? Well, mostly cause he was not a song writer for one thing.
Fred suddenly became morose as he wondered just what he was. He had never studied to be anything. He had worked here and there doing this and that. Handyman stuff mostly. Yeah, he had been a Marine for four years, but that was only four years. Never really needed to work. Always a loner. Oh, there was that woman in Kansas that he had years ago, but he ran away from her. He had thought about going back, but never knew why. She was just a woman and he did not need any woman. He wondered why his father had killed his mother and hid her in that root cellar. They seemed to be happy, or at least resigned, but then he never really knew them, he guessed.
He sighed as he came into his clearing. He ought to get a dog. Dog would be nice. Maybe a black one. Not a little one; a big one. Not too big though because it would be a house dog. He could talk to it sometimes in the evening. And he could take it for walks. Like Meg. She took her dogs for walks and kept them in the house. Maybe he would get two dogs. Oh! And a cat. Maybe a cat. He had never seen a mouse in his cabin, but if he had a cat it would eat the mouse. Cats were strange things. Meg’s cat acted like a dog. Well sort of anyway. He never seen anyone pet it. He saw them pet the dogs, but the cat was standoffish. What was it’s name? What was the dogs names? It made him sad that he could not remember those things. But why should he? Not like he seen them that often. He sighed and settled into the little chair setting beside the door of the cabin. His life was pretty boring. Did he want it to be different? It might be kind of nice to have people around or to be around people. Maybe he would walk down to Meg’s farm a little later and say hello to the boy. Yes! Yes he would.
He thought of how he and the boy had rescued Meg from the scar faced guy. That must mean something, them doing that. Sure it did. Damn! Why couldn’t he remember the boy’s name?
Then he was distracted by small funnel shaped things in the dirt at the edge of his cabin. Ant Lions. He knew what they were. And he knew how the operated. The Ant Lion made a funnel shaped hole in the dirt. Along came an ant and fell over the side and slid to the bottom. The hole was only about a half inch deep, but to a tiny ant it was quite a drop. And when the ant hit the bottom of the hole, Mr. Ant Lion sprang from his hiding place and ate him. Fred knew this because mother had taught him about the dreaded Ant Lion. He was very small when she showed him the Ant Lion traps and told him the story. He had not slept that night for fear an Ant Lion might get him. When he told mother, she laughed. She called him silly and he had snuggled close and she had held him, keeping him safe. She was such a good mother. He was so lucky she was his mother. And he had slept in her arms and not been afraid of the Ant Lion again.
****************************paid sponsors************************************
No comments:
Post a Comment