Uncle Merle always believed warmer climate would be balm to his bones. Aunty Mavis and Uncle Merle withdrew their retirement savings specifically to relocate to the Jacksonville. Aunty Mavis was just happy to find a patch a grass that she could till and harvest vegetables year round.
The foreclosed property they picked up looked like something from a dream. The previous owners did no damage to it, none whatsoever. They left it as is, as if never disturbed, and I couldn't figure out why. Why flee exposed brick fireplaces, a marble floor foyer, wrought iron banisters, bay windows and hardwoods throughout? How could anyone vacate property this beautiful, property situated within walking distance of a freshwater lake and not be filled with resentment?
The check engine light had been lit on the van for about a week. I wasn't too sure he remembered to fill her up, but my uncle drove that old van to town to pick up more chip wood. He has a pacemaker, so I'm glad he was gone when she screamed.
I stepped on the hem of my nightgown, running out into the yard, falling onto the back porch, scrapping up both my elbows. Aunty Mavis's small shovel was still pitched in the dirt. She was breathing heavily. "What do you make of this, Chile? Dem, dem gots to be pig bones, right?"
I did kick dirt away to get a better look at the end caps. The burlap from the bag of fresh soil was still laying behind her. I snatched it up and dropped it across what I was sure was human remains, the right femur and tibia of an adult male to be exact. And then I said to her, "Of course it's a pig, Aunty Mavis! What else would it be?"
I grabbed hold of my aunt's cold, still trembling hand and led her back inside. I had no clue when Uncle Merle would make it back, but I did know one thing. To be my aunt's balm right now, I had to remain calm.
The foreclosed property they picked up looked like something from a dream. The previous owners did no damage to it, none whatsoever. They left it as is, as if never disturbed, and I couldn't figure out why. Why flee exposed brick fireplaces, a marble floor foyer, wrought iron banisters, bay windows and hardwoods throughout? How could anyone vacate property this beautiful, property situated within walking distance of a freshwater lake and not be filled with resentment?
The check engine light had been lit on the van for about a week. I wasn't too sure he remembered to fill her up, but my uncle drove that old van to town to pick up more chip wood. He has a pacemaker, so I'm glad he was gone when she screamed.
I stepped on the hem of my nightgown, running out into the yard, falling onto the back porch, scrapping up both my elbows. Aunty Mavis's small shovel was still pitched in the dirt. She was breathing heavily. "What do you make of this, Chile? Dem, dem gots to be pig bones, right?"
I did kick dirt away to get a better look at the end caps. The burlap from the bag of fresh soil was still laying behind her. I snatched it up and dropped it across what I was sure was human remains, the right femur and tibia of an adult male to be exact. And then I said to her, "Of course it's a pig, Aunty Mavis! What else would it be?"
I grabbed hold of my aunt's cold, still trembling hand and led her back inside. I had no clue when Uncle Merle would make it back, but I did know one thing. To be my aunt's balm right now, I had to remain calm.
1 comment:
This could make a serious story. You should continue building on it. I really want to know who, how many, and why are humans growing in the garden.
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