In Sight Of An Evil

September 19, 1967

As I learned from the day's paper, militants begin their advances in Vietnam, but by now, I doubt much of anyone has any hope for the war anymore.

September 21, 1967

It was, at the hour, in that morning that I cought something that couldn't have aroused my imagining even more than it was, when I watched at the window and spotted a falling pine, following a strange sound, as a shriek-like impression under deep tone. Thinking it was probably some forest animal, I obtained my old hunter's rifle and grabbed my work boots. From then I strolled around the house front, the yard, and somewhat along the road, but remained approximate to the house. Maddison remained solitary to her little garden, stationary to the back, safely.

While I sat over the wooden boards at the steps, holding the rifle, I heard another wild roar, and it struck me surprisingly at an earshot range. I made it for the road and expected the running of bears or wild dogs, but witnessed that other pines were dropping to some forceful will, and it was terrifyingly powerful, I recall. I held my rifle after seeing one green pine drop across the road ahead without any reason, heard another roaring shout, and to that, I swung forth my old rifle, headlong I aimed, and grasped steadily the grip of the triger, which was from an inch of its firing pull. I stood there dumbfounded, and having not run back to the house where it would have been safe, and sensed my legs in a spasmatic standing. Although I could not dare to move due to the immense fear my mind underwhent, I made sudden movements to turn after the house, quckly across the yard, I figured, and to quickly lock myself from the outside. Even as I thought of such thing, and it was in a matter of seconds, I could not force myself to retreat after the porch, but only held insensibly my quick gun. I watched those dead and fallen trees lay across the lone road undisturbed, and as I could not explain, the animal roar flourished again, and without a still thought and second, discharged my gun, and it had echoed to the hills, that shot I had made.

Following that moment of my sudden fire towards that unsure roadside, I perceived yet another of the monster's shouts, and to this roar, I was stunned with the fear it struck me with, and I quickly shot for the house, releasing my rifle and losing it over the road. I called to Maddison, found her half-stunned by the shot she heard from the back, and locked her inside the house, and we made it our shelter for the night until the police would arrive to my call, and my call was frantic enough to call over a knot of armed men, including that neighbor of mine. In our hidding, before the reinforcements had arrived, I hurried in shutting the windows, bording shut my windows in the fear that the Thing may make its way to the house, as I knew, in wonder, that it had survived my lethal shot. I constructed boards over every door, as the old house was big with five of the doors to the outside, and Maddison hid in the room above the stairs, watching. After those tidiously frustrating four hours of night, I came to dine alone by the gleaming of a candle, in that Maddison whent to hide in sleep, and that I had shuttered every light inside that house. ''That creature must have already gone away by now, its dark and frosted outside that door.'', I mentioned to myself, assuring myself of its departure.

While eating the potato of my late dinner, a heavy clamouring started at the door, knocking it almost off its frame violently. I, scared at its suddeness of the pounds, leaped off my chair almost stumbling, reached the hatchet in the kitchen, guided my powerful hold of it in direction to the door, and peered through the wood board, and heard the frantic shouting of a number of men. ''Jefferson! Mr. Jefferson! Are you there, what's goin on? Open the door Jefferson!'', shouted the calling of the police at the porch of the door. I unhinged the boards in haste, and had urgently unlocked the door to the men. They were alerted to my sight, and I relieved to their's.

September 22, 1967

The boarded openings still hung at morning, when the wind was cold, the sky was gray, and the trees were swaying along the road. The floor by the door was covered with the nails and the smashed boards of last night's awareness. I ate my potatos, cold and rough, yet I still ate them. I had explained everything I knew of the alerting in the forest spaces, and something unusual, a stranger detail the enforcers had added to my confounded mind, as I was both stunned by the roadside destruction and confused at a profound level. 

The End

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