Jedadiah woke up to the usual tapping on his front door. He rose from bed and swung his long legs off, not wanting to wake up the missus. Upon sitting up, the bedroom window loomed before him. It was a gloomy day in September, almost looked like it could snow. He chuckled as he stood up in his long johns and took a decent look, ignoring the tapping which had turned to a knock.
The hilly grasslands waved at him. Sure, was windy, he thought. A storm was definitely a-brewing outside. The apple trees, too, swayed—fruit falling off. He finally blinked the sleep out of his eyes and tuned his ears to the now pounding front door—best alarm clock he never intended to install.
Unhurriedly, he strode across the wooden boards of the bedroom to his sleeping wife, who had pulled the blanket over her head. He ruffled her scalp and kissed her. She let out a loving growl, saying, “answer the damn door already!”
Again, he chuckled as he slid on his slippers and stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway. They had a somewhat quiet life in Western Appalachia, albeit unusual from city life many would be used to in the greater United States, but Jedadiah, his wife, and their kin loved it. It was a refuge away from three BIGs: Big Government, Big Tech, and Big Pharma.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” said Jedadiah. He holstered his sawed-off shotgun into his side holster and grabbed a couple special buckshot he received from one of his neighbors, placing them into his breast pocket. He wrapped his shoulder holster with two .45s buckled inside over his pajamas and proceeded to make some coffee.
“We do this every morning, Jamie,” muttered Jedadiah scooping the coffee and putting in the filter. “Is it possible you can just go back home without a long-winded story?”
The pounding stopped as soon as Jedadiah opened his mouth and then an earie silence hung as Jedadiah continued with coffee preparation, pouring water into the machine and pressing the start button. He listened to it whir and steam before ‘Jamie’ finally said something.
“Please sir, my sister and I are lost and need to use your telephone. Please, we need your help.”
Jedadiah shook his head. “Jamie, is your sister actually with you today or are you fibbing again?”
Silence. “Please sir, we need your help.”
The pounding began again. It sounded like a boot against the bottom of the door this time.
Jedadiah pulled out his shot gun and loaded the two barrels.
“Jamie,” said Jedadiah, impatience growing, “Every morning you pound on my door, and every morning I hand you my cell phone, and every morning you don’t remember your parent’s number…” He pulled his old flip phone off an old charger on the kitchen counter and stuck it in his pocket before opening the door to “Jamie” and “His sister.”
“Jamie” and “His Sister,” who typically didn’t show up, stood in the entry way, white as ghosts and their eyes black as coal. No pupils. Just a pool of black. Jedadiah held his shotgun at the ready as he pushed them towards the porch stairs so he could close the door behind him.
He pulled out his cell phone and tried to hand it to Jamie. Jamie just looked at it puzzled.
“Look, Jamie, it is a phone. I’ve showed you this before, remember?”
Jamie didn’t lift his hand to take it. He just stared at it and then at Jedadiah.
“I need to use your phone. We are lost. Let us come in.”
Jedadiah looked down his porch to see the familiar hag he would see on occasion counting the bristles on his boom that he had hanging on the corner of his wraparound porch.
“Good morning, Miss Maisie! Any telling how many bristles are on that broom there?” said Jedadiah, smiling, as he took a seat in his rocking chair, the black-eyed-children still staring at him.
“Oh drat!” Miss Maisie shouted. “There are so many, Jedadiah! So many! How is one to count so when one can’t remember which ones one has already counted!”
He watched as she pulled at the bristles with her clawed hands and pulled them one by one, counting and ultimately losing some as she pulled a new one.
“Well,” said Jedadiah, “Keep trying, I guess.”
She shushed him as he turned back to the children who stood menacing him as he rocked in his chair.
“Well,” said Jedadiah, “You want to use my phone or not?”
Again, he tried to hand them the phone only for them to stare at him with their dark eyes, unblinking.
There was a time when Jed would have been unnerved by that, but he was over 60 and seen plenty more in the woods around his property that he wasn’t going to be intimidated by some lackluster “kids.”
They didn’t take the phone. They just lingered for a while as Jedadiah rocked in his chair. Eventually they left without a sound, where Jed never knew.
“Finally!” he said, and like clockwork he heard the coffee maker steam and finish. He rose up and got his first cup of coffee for the morning and then figured out his plans for collecting the apples. Maybe Miss Maisie would help him count. He laughed as he turned his head in her direction.
“Damn it, Jedadiah! Quit distracting me!”
He watched her start all over again, shaking his head and sipping that fine, dark roast.
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