Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Short Story


                            In a small, gray S-10 Pickup, hustling down gravel roads over Iowa’s rolling hills, I had one of my experiences with time travel.  In a cloud of dust, I crossed a time warp and found myself somewhere in the late 1800s.  Stumbling out of my little truck, I headed toward a large, white barn.  I looked for signs of life inside.  Some voices could be heard coming from within, and I followed the sound until I found a young man and woman having a conversation.  The woman stood there, barefoot, with a long, plain, green dress, playing with her apron strings.  The man had his thumbs under his suspenders, his face hidden by a straw hat.  Unnoticed, I listened for a moment, and couldn't make out a word they were saying.  They spoke in a foreign tongue, but their conversation seemed quite pleasant, as laughter filled the air.
  Suddenly, they saw me and the room fell silent.  They looked me up and down, as if I were some kind of alien.  “Is your dad around?” I asked.  “He’s up at the house.” The young man answered in broken English.  I left them behind, heading up toward a very large, white farm house.  Everything seemed familiar; I knew I had been here, on an earlier voyage, but didn't know if those living here remembered  me.  Passing under spinning shadows of a windmill that clattered rhythmically...

           (To read more... click on, Back in Time, tab on the menu bar above.)

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