Die at Sundown
Posted: Friday, November 19, 2010
by Jane Hercules
http://www.lockthemailbox.com
She scurried down the steps from the warm farmhouse kitchen and onto the path. It was summertime in Kansas. As she skipped along, basket in hand, braids flying, she hummed the song she'd just heard playing on Nana's radio.
Nana loved to keep up with the news of the city and all the latest songs and stories. She had that radio playing all day as she sewed on the Singer making skirts for the little girl. The fabrics were cotton and had been the feed sacks Granddaddy hauled home for the animals. The little girl treasured those skirts and chose a different one to wear each day of the week.
As she entered the henhouse, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, she surveyed the nests. There were nine of them stacked three high. The three lower nests were at her waistline. The middle nests were almost as tall as Jody herself. The three upper nests were well above her.
Now came the challenge. Jody accepted it willingly. She reached up into the first high nest. She could not see into it. She felt about for the precious egg. Shocked, she recognized that it didn't feel like the others she had gathered. Gently placing the basket on the dusty floor, she mustered all her strength and jumped up to see what was in the nest. Screaming and gasping, she ran like the wind to the safety of the house and her Nana. Scarcely able to speak, she sobbed out the report. Granddaddy grabbed his shotgun and the three raced to the henhouse. With the end of the gun barrel the brave grandfather flipped the long, black intruder from the nest and shot it.
The snake wriggled out under the henhouse wall. "The snake will die at sundown," assured Nana.
This Article has been viewed 139 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
No comments yet.We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.