Fred sat in his chair by the stove, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, with his huge hands holding his head. He was thinking, replaying the events of the day in his head. He just wanted to forget it all and continue to live his simple life of seclusion, but this day had complicated that life, at least momentarily. He didn’t feel any responsibility to his neighbors, his country or even this world in which he lived. He did however think about Gus and how he was processing his own encounter with this enigma. Fred was feeling some concern, somewhere deep in his heart for Gus, although he was not close to him these unfamiliar feelings still existed. Perhaps, he thought, since Gus was older, he felt some compassion towards him because he had similar feelings for his grandmother, when she was close to the end. Fred figured the sheriff was involved by now due to the reports he received from Bob and Gus, so he reasoned there was no need for him to become involved at this point. He just wanted to return to isolation and solitude. That’s what he would do, it was settled. This is how Fred made many decisions and choices, he’d think about them briefly, weigh the alternatives, then make an immutable decision.
While feeling satisfied with his decision, still crouched over and holding his head in his hands, it began to feel heavy. Sleepiness was setting in. He was hungry bu too tired after all this to make a meal right then. His thoughts began to wander and become more muddled. Serious thoughts of the day’s events gave way to reflection and blurred images of fishing in the river, walking the forest ans scavenging the shoreline, working construction jobs, his grandmother caring for him, even thoughts his parents. He missed them. Almost dreaming now, memories of a construction job he worked on to build a log cabin, filled his mind. Ting….Ting…Ting, Hammering large spikes into a heavy cedar log was the memory that created the sound echoing in his semi-consciousness. The last strike of the hammer on the head of the spike that was nearly driven all the way into the log, sounded in his mind. It didn’t sound right. It was a dull thunk, not a reverberating ringing sound of steel striking steel. That inconsistency pulled him back to full awareness. Something wasn’t quite right. Fred became marginally aware of a difference in his surroundings. Suddenly a sense of dread overwhelmed him. Still holding his head in his hands and staring at the wood grain of the floor boards between his feet, he knew he was no longer alone in his solitary dwelling.
The sound he heard came from his right. For a moment he wondered if he should rotate his eyeball to the right and just peer though his fingers or if he should lift his head and jerk it to the right to stare full on at whatever had entered his cabin. In one fluid movement he lifted his head, turned right and stood, glaring intently but briefly at the small figure that stood just inside the door. A crushing sense of hatred swallowed his dread in one gigantic gulp. It was that hideous little creature he’d seen earlier, glaring back at him. He was repulsed by it. He despised it. Without hesitation he was hovering over the creature with his hands tightly clutching it’s neck, lifting it to chest level then crushing it against the stone wall of his cabin. Fred was intent on destroying this thing and did not notice the creature was gripping a revolver in one its hands. As it was wriggling and squirming and gurgling, Fred lost his grip on its neck, but managed to catch it by its short tail as it fell towards the floor. Fred spun, gathering momentum, he smashed the creature against the wall on the other side of the door. Again he lost his grip on this snake like skin, but he quickly snatched the creature from the floor and heaved it against the back wall near his table.
Fred’s infuriation raged, he was narrowly focused on the face of this thing which showed a grotesque grimace. Just as he knew that destroying the seeds was the correct action to take, he was certain that killing this thing was what he needed to do. Fred was intent on seizing this revolting invader by the neck and snapping it like he would by twisting the head on a chicken. He lunged toward the table where the creature was struggling to gain its footing. It was then he saw the flash from the muzzle of a revolver, he did not head the blast. Two more flashes followed. In that instant Fred knew what happened, he was reminded of the revolver he kept in the glove box of his truck. He felt no pain or pain so extreme that he could feel not much else, but he knew this was his end, and by his own weapon. He felt sorrow. Sorrow for not being more careful in attacking this thing, sorrow for a solitary life, sorrow for what might happen if this creature continues to live. A semi-conscious state returned as his vision began to darken at the edges of his field of view. The sight of the being before him blurred, and was replaced by images from his child hood and images of his parents and grandmother. Fed could feel his knees weakening and a sensation of falling forward. Then all was dark.
- Seeds of Destruction: The Sighting
Chapter 3 of the short story "Seeds of Destruction"
- Seeds of Destruction: Accidental Salvation
The final chapter in the short story "Seeds of Destruction"
Shyron E Shenko from Texas on January 23, 2017:
Jim, this is a riveting story now I have to read the other chapter.
Blessings to you my friend