Four miles north of Winnifred

It’s past three o fuckin clock. Usually don’t have problems

with intruders, always around this time though if I do. Hal-

loween rearing its head sends something foul up the hind

end of young people, not like they used to. Come here to old

grandma, knowing nothing, thinking they can get off some

sick urge or adrenaline fueled fuck from the illegality of the

situation. Maybe it’s the Autumn spirit, maybe they come here

to steal her pumpkins and apples. I don’t know what they do,

Never let em findout.

She’s called grandma like an ancestor, mother of

mothers, god only knows how many generations she has

sustained. In spring her thick hair becomes our dough and

the rich vitamins from her dead flow like blood through

our gourds, our potatoes and our tomatoes and apples and

peaches. Some don’t know her value, her soil is not ordinary;

a hundred years ago she birthed a papaya tree. It’s not their

fault they don’t know, but she can’t be harmed. So here

I am. I see their flashlight pierce against the harsh

dark of the countryside. Two silhouettes follow the beam-

ing light through the medium height wood fence. We never

believed in signs, electric fence, barbs. We don’t even do that

to our cattle. If men are divorced from their choice, what are

they. The two dark figures disappeared into the tall forest of

corn, harsh light bounced off their surrounding stalks. My

eyes followed the illumination as it slowly moved deeper into

the field. Unintelligible hushed chatter broke her silent still-

ness that lulled the land to sleep. Not even wind disturbed.

Here I am though, I should be thankful their obnoxious car

radio shook me up or I may have never known. Until maybe

days later when I find foot prints or a discarded cloth. By

then to her it’s old news and I am to only sit in my shame.

And how much do they feel?

The moon hid behind clouds in a single splash

of effervescence. I stepped deliberately down the three steps of

the porch and onto her cool fall ground. My feet sunk slightly

in as I stared intently at the glow. It neared the edge of the

field before splaying its light across the ground. I could some-

what clearly see the two people attached to the light; a young

man and woman. They ambled while chattering in intoxicated

glee. I stood straight against the cool air, my eyes fixed. The

girl led with the flashlight, pulling the man by his hand, they

were going toward her far end. Where grandma’s pool is. A

shallow divot filled with clear water that never evaporates or

freezes. We do not even near it for venerative purposes, we

live in her. I saw it only once when I was too young to re-

member, it is her only private place. And here they go right

for it. I swung around, walked quickly up the porch steps and

pushed open the back door. Reaching to the wall inside, she

handed me the gun. I would never touch it otherwise.

My calloused feet padded across the cold wood of

the porch; her veins hardened into trees that formed that

wood. I thumped down the stairs to the cool hardness of

the ground. I know I shouldn’t let myself fog up, I must

remain like her sky, but my face was hot. I stepped quick-

ly aimed directly toward the two as they trampled across

ground. The wind picked up now, blowing about her trees,

whipping grasses and stalks and spraying debris casually.

Pushed against my back, so much I could almost lean while

I made my commute. Monumental gust after gust hurled me

forward, as the flora surrounding danced in a wild fervor. In

every grain, a soul celebrated, in each apple, a party rambunc-

tiously shook in anticipation of their imminent reintegration

with the earth below. The atmosphere erupted with sound

in a constant whooping hush, trees ecstatically threw their

leaves and sticks and the wheat shook like a field of ceremo-

nial maracas. Clouds morphed and rolled, revealing the large

moon and peeling back the darkness. Moonlight glinted off

the cold barrel of the gun I gripped firmly in my hands as I

steadily stomped toward the two. They sat closely huddled

on a stone I think is her death marker. Mere feet away from

them, I stopped my gait and relaxed my grip, letting the long

gun hang from my right hand. This shifting caused it to click,

drawing both their attention immediately.

“Oh my god,” squealed the girl as she quickly stood,

“no no it’s okay it’s okay,” she held her hands near her face

and the man stood and did the same. Their faces were fearful.

I stood still for a moment, listened to the wind, less intense

now but still whirling. I looked at their uneasy faces. Then I

looked to the pool behind them doused in synthetic light. The

insignificant dip in land was a froth of algae and was mostly

enveloped by reeds and grass. The two’s eyes remained fixed

on me with anxious anticipation. “Uh,” the girl began again,

“we’re just kids. Sorry, we’ll leave, we didn’t mean-”

“No, don’t worry,” I assured. “Thought you was

someone dangerous.” I gave them a smile as their expressions

loosened. “C’mon,” I gestured toward the house. I flipped the

gun around and held it over my shoulder as I started back,

“come inside and we’ll get this all straightened out.