There was still no word from Uncle Bobby and she was getting worried. He’d been gone too long. She was probably fretting for no good reason but she couldn’t quite shake the apprehension. She was antsy, twitchy; she had to move, to do something, anything. She grabbed the keys to the truck and drove it down the narrow dirt drive, down the hill, away from the trailer. It was early evening, still light but long shadows cast the hills and the valleys into murky gloom. A nearby owl hooted, annoyed by the truck’s noise as its wheels crunched the dirt and gravel path. Aside from that the night was still, as if all of the night insects and even the wind itself were holding their collective breaths waiting to hear from Bobby. The drive narrowed further and she eased off the gas as the truck bounced along a trail that was nothing more than a few ruts running through the trees. Branches loomed closer and scraped and snapped. Just around the next turn she’d see the shed where Bobby should be, tending to the ancestral still, site of so much of her family’s history. She cut the engine and rolled to a stop. The still was operating but abandoned. Bobby’s kit was still sitting on a stump. She called out. There was no answer. She looked around. She opened the door to the tiny shed. Nothing. No one. She didn’t know how long she just stood there, arms hanging down with clenched fists, as she turned and scanned the scene. It may have been seconds. It may have been minutes, but her heart leaped as she heard the sharp crack of a branch just yards away, exploding the stillness and about to change her life.
ahahahaha! That was a fun little jaunt! 🙂