ACH!!! Forgot to post this in the morning so I could enter this week’s #WOW555 contest over at Wendy’s place. The theme is spring. Everything grows in the spring, right? Here’s a bit of a different look at Spring growth….
The old man scratched his grizzled beard and then threw back the hood on his parka. He wouldn’t need that parka much longer. The snow was melting, and then…. He looked at the boat arriving at the dock. It came every week with supplies, just like clockwork. He laughed a bit as he watched the boat come to the dock. In years past, Wyvernfield, was a tourist paradise in the spring. Now, the visitors waited until the cleanup; rather the “all clear” he sounded after the cleanup.
He walked towards the dock being careful to stay on the path. The flowers of Wyvernfield were well known and he didn’t want to harm one of them. They used to laugh when they said that Wyvernfield was so fertile it could grow anything. Now they said it with an ominous air to their voices. As he got close to the dock, his ears perked up. He heard laughter. Old Jake had forgotten how to laugh ever since… well ever since that day. He didn’t like laughter and yet there it was on his boat.
Gerald finally spied the source of the laughter. Two young men and a woman talking and laughing on the deck. He shook his head. “What in tarnation is Jake thinking,” he said out loud mostly to himself. His boots thumped on the dock as he grabbed the rope Jake threw.
“Afternoon, Gerald,” the skipper said. Jake hadn’t smiled since that day either. “Got some visitors for ye.”
Gerald tied the boat to the dock and Jake put out the gang plank. “So I see,” Gerald said. “What brings you folks to Wyvernfield?” he asked.
“Huntin’” the blond headed boy said, suppressing a giggle. “We heard you got an interestin’ huntin’ season startin’ soon.”
Gerald closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t really want to say something he’d regret later. “Jake,” he finally said, “tourist season doesn’t start for another couple of weeks. What’s up?”
Jake shrugged and pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. He looked at the visitors who were crossing the gangplank onto the dock and tapped his forehead. Then he shrugged again.
The girl came up to Gerald and held out her hand, “I’m Arliene Fennelly. Pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll lead us in the hunt. You’ve got quite a reputation.”
Gerald sniffed as he looked at the outstretched hand. He finally shook it. “Missy,” he said looking her in the eyes, “I don’t know what you heard, but I ain’t giving you any promises; not even that you’ll get out of this alive.”
“We understand,” Arliene said. “Henry and Egbert really wanted to come and try the challenge. They said it was the most dangerous game.”
“Tourists,” Gerald spat. “It’s all fun and games to shoot the walkers – until you run out of ammo or they come at you in a group from behind. You’d better pay me in advance – and know that next year, you may be one of the targets.” Gerald shook his head at the whole situation. Wyvernfield could grow anything in the spring; even zombies.
Voting begins soon!