Seth

A final moment of happiness

Photo by Gabriel on Unsplash

The sun didn’t show that morning. An unbroken stream of gray filled the western Ohio sky, carried on a chill breeze. The air felt heavy, wet. James Linderman didn’t care for it. Deer would be scarce this morning, more so if the rains came. Cloaked in a stand of young beech gone rusty in autumn’s embrace, he set the butt of his long rifle on the ground and leaned the barrel against a tree trunk, then he adjusted the straps of his powder horn and leather bag. He shouldn’t have bothered hunting this morning. He should have gone to his parents’ place. Adam and Julia’s old homestead always needed repairs of late, and there was land to clear for next spring’s planting. Father could use the help.

A shuffling of leaves interrupted his thoughts. James eased up his rifle and pivoted toward the sound, hoping for a bit of luck. But no, it wasn’t a deer. A shadow of a man slipped through the forest and halted five paces off. He had a gaunt, starved look, hollow eyes, dark complexion. His mouth hung half-open as in a drunken stupor, though it wasn’t from alcohol. He wore only a ragged slip of fur draped about his hips. He mouthed one word, sounding like a specter calling from the beyond.

“James.”

James set the gun against the tree and nodded. “Seth.”