OK Leslie told this one time was ok...I know it isn't drabble length but it's what came out.
Corduroy Road 3/1/07
The late winter had not been kind to the Wyoming back roads. The heavy snow and subsequent quick melt made most of the main roads all but impassable. He had only been up this way twice in his life, and the last time was at least twenty years ago. Time had done nothing to improve his opinion of Wyoming. Godless place: Harsh and lifeless. That description seemed appropriate to him as he turned off the main road that headed toward Lightening Flat. This weather induced detour over the corduroy road would add at least an hour to the trip. Regardless, he needed to go. The time had finally come for him to lay whatever ghosts were left to their long awaited rest.
******
He had been at the cemetery for most of the morning. Despite the high sun, the air was cold and cloying. He never wanted to come here. The thought of this place being so remote and exposed made his belly churn with disquiet. He reminded himself of his vow to never return here, but as soon as that thought entered his brain, the reality of his persistent return trips made him realize he should give up that ghost. He knew almost all of the stones here now; felt as though he knew the occupants under the dirt even. Now his visits would include a stop to say hello to, now old, and never to be seen friends. This visit was longer though. He hoped that by now the main roads had dried up enough so that he didn’t have to take that damned corduroy road back. He went on with his visits.
******
He pulled the Jeep up to the bumper of the old truck that was at the cemetery entrance. Silently, he cursed whoever it was that had chosen today to pay his respects. Of all the days for someone to come to this love forsaken place, they had to pick this one. He peered out of the windshield and saw the old man at the back of the graveyard. An old codger, he though. He stepped out of the vehicle onto the soggy grass, the heel of his boot sinking into the ground. Leaning a bit forward on his toes he made his way into the cemetery, through the steel and wrought iron arch that marked its entrance. He had not the dimmest clue of where this grave would be, but the entire bone yard was half the size of his own backyard, so it didn’t take him long to find what he came all this way to see.
******
He regarded the younger man carefully. Not that he could do anything about it should this person choose to do him any harm. The arthritis in his back and hands had seen to it that his fighting days were long past. He kept his watch without seeming obvious, until he saw where the man stopped.
******
He laid the small envelope down on the ground and put a nearby stone on it to keep the wind from carrying it off. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the only memories he had. They were so distant and he was not entirely sure they were real or embellishments of far more mundane occurrences. So lost was he, that he didn’t notice the sounds of feet crunching snow and frozen dead laves. When he raised his head and opened his eyes, the old man was standing in front of him, not more than two feet away. He pulled himself up from his stooped position to greet the stranger.
“Well hello there,” the younger man said, as he extended his hand to the elder.
“How do,” was the response, the old man’s hat, pulled down so low that it hid his full face from view. He did not offer his gloved hand to the younger. “Don’t recall seein you round these parts before.”
“I…uh…well, I’ve never been to this place, but been up this way a few times, when I was kid.” He shifted uncomfortably, but understood the old cowboy attitude toward strangers well enough to not begrudge the old man his due.
“You got family up here then?”
“No, not anymore. My daddy’s parents lived nearby, but they’ve been gone for years now.”
“Yeah, lots of folks gone now.” The older man glanced down at the stone that they stood in front of. He gave a quick nod toward it. “You know these folks here?”
“Well yes I do. My grandparents are buried here…” he paused and added, “my father also.”
The older man nodded as if this information confirmed an unvoiced suspicion. “Good man he was. Hope you know that, if you know nothin else.”
The young man felt the surge of emotion well up from deep within. “You knew my daddy?”
“Sure did. Best man I ever did know.”
No longer able to control it, the young man turned away from the older man and allowed the tears to moisten his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away and cleared his throat. “He died when I was a teenager: Seems like I don’t remember a lot about him. Can you tell me how you knew my dad?” All he received in response was the ever present wind moaning through he frozen grass. He turned around to find himself standing alone. No old man in a hat was going to answer his query, because no old man in a hat was there. He turned his head toward the gate. The truck that he parked behind was gone as well. He closed his eyes tightly against the incongruity. When he opened them again, all he could sensibly do was blame the drive over that long corduroy road for tiring him out so much, that he saw ghosts.
Topic: The Bettermost Drabblefest: Please Join In! (Read 1388495 times)