Good morning all. I hope you slept well. I had dreams of a runaway lawnmower. which sounds strange. it was one of those old fashioned push mowers. No engine, just a round tube of blades and a handle for you to push. Somehow in my dream it decided it wanted to go on a mowing spree and just took off, no motor or pushing needed. I chased it across three yards while it mocked my running style. Apparently I stick out my elbows too much and will never take a medal at state. I tried telling it that i didn’t run track but it didn’t listen. I woke up this morning trying to figure out where my brain got the odd components from. I know I saw the lawn mower when I went into the shed yesterday but that is all I have. Something I will be pondering all day. But before then, let’s see about the morning writing prompt shall we? Timers set, and we are off.
Well at least there are no mowers or running. I like the set up though. I need to figure out the story genre though before I start this. It could be a general fiction of finding the past, but we could go murder mystery very easily. I like it enough to think about at least. Along with the renegade lawn mower of course.
Thursday, January 12th: The gray stone wall was half tumbled.
The gray stone wall was half tumbled. It was clear no one paid attention to it in a very long time. The stones were dry laid, set one atop the other locking into place with just their shape and the skill of the person putting them together rather than through the use of mortar. Thorough the tumbled down section vines wrapped around the stones, passion flowers springing up along its green light, their feathery, alien looking petals half hidden in the dappled light. The vines stretched towards the still standing section. Looking at them Heath couldn’t decide if the vines were seeking to destroy the wall or attempting to help hold it together.
He looked away, letting his eyes see past the wall and through the open gate. If the stone steps had ever been barred, the gate had long since disappeared. He suspected there was no gate. Three stairs led visitors from the ground and up the embankment. The stone wall was laid atop the embankment making it seem much more protective than a mere wall. After the top step the path wound its way through the front hard in a gentle curve ending at the front door.
Like the wall surrounding the property, the house had seen better days. There was a hole in the roof, the remnants of a fallen tree showing the culprit. The tree was half disintegrated, the part touching the ground mostly rotted away into loam. Only the parts of the tree that were caught at the roof line, suspended In the air were still recognizable as tree. Heath suspected that if touched they would rot away like the rest of the tree.
‘That didn’t fall recently,’ he thought looking at it. He could only imagine the amount of rain and snow and even forest creatures that had gotten into the house since the tree punched in a new skylight. It did not bode well for the interior. Not for the first time he wondered what he was doing here.
He snorted. He was here because of logic. ‘If someone leaves you a house then you go to see the house,’ he reminded himself. ‘especially if that someone is claiming to be a relative and you grew up with an adoptive family.’
The letter that came, complete with deeds and other applicable paperwork told him the name of the person who left him the property, Maria Dennis. The lawyer whose number was enclosed with the paperwork and who he called as soon as he saw what the paperwork held, told him that in her will Maria listed him as family but nothing more. That same lawyer arranged to meet him at the house and go over what details he knew. The time was set and here Heath was, staring at a half tumbled down stone wall, an abandoned hose with a hole punched through its roof by a tree, waiting for the lawyer of the now deceased Maria Dennis to Arrive.
Heath thought about going into the house and beginning to look over the property, hoping to find something about his own past even while reminding himself he probably wouldn’t. Knowing that there was mostly disappointment ahead, Heath stayed where he was. He told himself it was because a property like this was best walked with someone. There could be hidden pitfalls and having a second person there to help with the hidden dangers was the safe option.
A small part of him admitted that the longer he put off going into the house the longer he could hope that he might find something. He checked his watch. The lawyer was running late.
Ten til Midnight 