You’ve decided to spend a weekend exploring the countryside by car. You’ve packed a picnic (though you might be open to a local restaurant if a good opportunity presents itself), you’ve picked out some great tunes for the ride, and you’ve started on your journey. The weather is beautiful.
Then your car breaks down. Your cell phone isn’t getting a signal, so you start walking. After a while, you start to give up on ever getting a signal so you decide to approach a house that you see in the distance. What happens next?
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photo credit: René Ehrhardt
Iona Says:
The path from the road to the house was dusty and long. To my left waist high grass pushed against a leaning chain-link fence.
Objects were scattered about the path and front yard of the farm house. Some small; rusted cans, flat tyres, and some not so small like the orange couch spewing foam from its cushions.
I pictured what kind of person would live here. An old man perhaps, crippled with age and loneliness. Or maybe a crazed woman wearing a knitted poncho would answer the door, complete with seven cats.
As I neared the porch I could smell something baking. Something delicious. It looked like I’d chosen the right house. With images of cherry pie and farm fresh milk floating through my head I knocked on the door.
Not a sound.
‘Hello. Anyone home?’
I slowly opened the door. A perfectly baked golden pie sat on the kitchen bench. Next to the pie a coffee mug sat, still steaming – whoever lived here couldn’t be far off.
I started to call out again when I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head. My vision blacked out as I fell to the floor. A deep, muffled voice cut through the pain.
‘Looks like we got dinner tomorrow night too’.
Posted on March 2nd, 2010 at 3:14 am