Monday, October 18, 2010

The Swamp - Chapter One

Ok, here it is one of my stories I promised.

Warning, it is a little racey and may not be suitable for young readers.

To say the shack loomed in the distance would be too melodramatic. It did not loom it just sat there squat in the mud. The porch was crooked, the floor boards were cracked and peeled up at the ends, and the front stoop sat completely under water. Large black trees grew a respectful distance from the shack perched on their exposed roots. No moss or lichen hung from the trees like one might expect in the old world, instead, large thorns grew straight out from the bark, and flat, spade-like leaves hung from the crooked branches. At the very tip of each leaf was a thorn that dripped a sticky goo.

How the old man, and his beautiful young daughter, sat comfortably on the porch, the traveler never knew. But there they sat, in hand-made chairs of drift wood and dried reeds. Between the two sat a small, round, wooden wash bucket turned upside down and used as a table. On it lay a flat board where they were playing stones.

The Old Man looked up and smiled at the approaching visitor. "Eh, lass, it’s good to see ya again."

The Old Man's daughter also looked up and smiled, her teeth so straight and white, surrounded by full, red lips. Her pale face was framed by dark hair that swept just right around her eyes and lay at the edge of her small chin.

As the traveler looked upon the girl, an unusual chill wind, swept through the steamy swamp causing the tree leaves to clack together. A crow cawed in the distance, or maybe close, one cannot tell in the swamp. “That girl will keep the old man's shotgun busy”, the traveler thought.

"Rufus, it is good to see you too Old Man," the traveler said as she slid the backpack onto the porch. Her boots still in the muck, she reached into the pack and pulled out two yellow fruits and tossed them to the teen-aged girl. "I brought these for you Simone, I know how much you like them."

Simone laughed in only the way a teen-age girl can, and bit into the fruit. She was not afraid to let the juice run down her chin, down her soft neck, only to disappear between her small youthful breasts. The traveler was a little ashamed to admit that her heart beat faster and her face flushed as she watched the fruit's nectar travel oh so slowly to that sweet spot, and the very air seemed to thrumb along with her.

"I can't say how much this helps an old codger like me," the Old Man said. "You doin’ the shoppin an' all for me 'n the girl."

"Don't worry Old Man. Helping you is my payment." And she smiled up at him under her soft brimmed hat.

"When are you gonna take me into the city?" Simone asked. "I am right ready to get out of this stinky swamp and go to the city."

"Soon my little bird, very soon," the traveler said. "And, I will miss you when you leave for the city for I know you will never be coming back. And what of your old father then? Who will take care of him?"

"You will I know you will," said the girl. "I don't worry about my Pa, he knows how to fend for himself. Besides we have not seen those tiny nephilin in over a month."

The Old Man chimed in, "Well...there be time enough for you moving on next year girl, but for now its time for supper."

"Yes, Papa...Yes, Papa," said Simone.

The traveler, still standing in the mud, did feel for the Old Man, she really did. She did not know how he would cope with his only daughter gone and never to return. The traveler knew deep in her heart, no matter what happened, she would still check in on the man. She owed him that much.

As the day reached its end, the fog disappeared, being pulled back into the swamp by a colder wind that swept in among the trees and through the exposed roots making a howling sound. Ripples of water began to lap against the shack's stilts and against the traveler’s boots. The reeds bent and swayed.

Simone brushed the goose bumps on her arms, and the traveler again ashamedly watched as the girl's breasts stood straight in the cold, stretched against her shirt top and skin turned pinkish with cold. The swamp sighed and sucked in it's breath.

"I just hate the cold at this time of day," said the girl, as she scurried into the shack.

The traveler turned her face to the darkening sky and said aloud, "Stop it."

No one answered. Not even the crow. Just the cold wind that continued to blow.

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