PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She came around the side of the house with purpose but he was so intent on looking in the window that he hadn't heard her approach. Neither had she known he was there, she'd only gone outside to turn off the hose she abruptly remembered leaving on the apple tree. 

"Is that thing loaded?" she asked bending over to lift an old dog who had just caught whiff of the interloper and delivered a feeble bark. She knew that only 2 types of people would come past the sign on her gate, those who knew her very well or those who had no respect. Seeing as his face was strange to her, she figured he must be of the latter sort. 

He startled, raising the gun shakily, leveling it at her, nodding hesitantly, unsure of what to think of this woman who made no attempt to flee or otherwise protect herself. Rather she walked closer, stroking the dog's head, "You've showed up just in time. My truck stopped starting about 3 months ago and I haven't been able to get to town. I quit eating awhile back so I could feed Jolly here, but that's nearly gone too. There's a few dollars in a shoebox under the bed. You can have the place if you like, though there's not much left to live on. But first you have to kill me and my dog." She looked past him down the driveway, not seeing a vehicle, "Did you walk here?"

He shook his head to clear the confusion of her rapid-fire exposition, then spoke slowly, "You don't know what's going on out there?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "What's going on?"