Saturday, March 7, 2015

susie strikes

A long curious touch revealed a texture like sandpaper on top of velvet folds. Susie had to hurry, the rain would come again soon. She wiped wet dirt off her freckled brow and bent over her spade once more. Each tough, soaked clay clod broke to reveal more of the creature.

Another awkward misstep scrapped her knobby knee against the rough thing while she flailed to the ground. Mud was in her tightly curled hair, in her pink sneakers, down her shirt, and underneath her well-chewed fingernails. She’d dug a wide pit, seven feet down through the thick red clay, which put the top of the hole more than half again above her head.

Just as thunder struck ominously somewhere near, Susie’s small shovel cut away to reveal a huge yellow eye. Spade in hand, she spitefully struck it and felt deep tremors beneath her bare feet. This was going to be interesting.

She managed to claw her way up and into the trim Bermuda grass of her suburban backyard. A quick inventory of her step-father’s shed produced the right tool for the job.

It was clumsy, but Susie managed. With a fierce screech, she leveled the 12 foot pruning saw and charged. It struck home with a satisfying pop of the nictitating membrane. She leapt and thrust forward.

The neighborhood quaked violently, but Susie refused to turn loose. Her saw-toothed fauchard tore deep into the quivering beast.

As she swung wildly through the air, her hand lost purchase. She careened into the old oak tree, snapping her wrist and ringing the air from her chest. So be it, she smiled through tears; the beast below would trouble them no more.

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