Monday, February 27, 2012
Billy knew he was not supposed to cut across the field to get to Seventh Avenue, but he could not figure out why. There were only two things in the middle of that field: the tall oak tree that looked like had been there for at least a hundred years, and a small white house that his friends told him was haunted.
"I don't believe in ghosts!" he said out loud to no one.
"Besides I have my sling shot in my back pocket, and no ghost can get me quicker than I can get a rock into his head" he said as he filled his front pocket with marble sized chunks of rocks.
Sun poured over her silhouette. He was far enough away that he could tell that her hair was the same colour as his Grammy's, but her face was saggy, and there were lines all over it. Billy's Grammy's face was smooth, with lines in some places, but not like this face. This face was wretched.
Billy drew his slingshot back, placed the largest rock he had in his pocket on the band and took aim. Just as he was ready to let the rock fly, she spoke.
"Billy Johnson put that slingshot down and come over here right now!" she screamed.
"Aw mom, you told me to go outside and play, that's what I was doin" he said as he shuffled his feet, kicking up little dust clouds with each step.
The lines on her face melted into soft, supple skin as he got closer to her. She smelled like fresh raspberries and sun-dried linen.
"I was gonna kick some ghost butt Mom" he sighed.
"You can go back and after you have lunch, but you leave that sling shot here with me" she said with a smile.