Morning all, I hope you are having a fabulous day. Don’t forget the Smashwords Summer sale starts today. My books are 50% off but there are hundreds of authors participating so it is a great way to find a new favorite author. But for now, it is time for the first prompt of the week, and the first for July. So set those timers and off we go.
I like this. Not sure where exactly it is going, but I like it. Always nice to start the day off with a good murder. Literarily speaking of course.
Monday, July 1st: It was a small settlement.
“It was a small settlement,” he explained. “Much smaller than the town today.” I nodded as I followed him. We were on what could optimistically be called a path. It wasn’t wide enough for both of us to walk together and Kevin walked in front of me, tossing historical tidbits to me over his shoulder. Thus far I learned that the original settlement in the area was twelve miles east of where the town now sat. I knew it had mostly died away except for one or two homesteaders when the railway came through. The current town of Loneville took the old town’s name but was situated in a different location because it was easier to build the railway that way and a few of the original buildings were still standing.
It wasn’t much information, but it was more than I knew before. I was hoping that I would be able to get some good photographs for the article the local paper was doing. It was for the Founder’s day edition and I had been asked to supply any photos of the original town that I could get.
As Kevin was obsessed with the original town, he was the one I asked. He was more than happy to take me out to the old site and I was pretty sure he was hoping I would fall in love with the place just a he had.
‘I wonder if Kevin made this trail,’ I thought as I stumbled after him. He was the only one I knew who came out here and I didn’t see why there would be a trail otherwise. I didn’t realize how claustrophobic I felt until the trail ended and we stepped out of the trees into a large clearing. The ground was rockier here and while there were a few tufts of grass in places, it was mostly bare stone.
In the center of the area I could see an arrangement of stone walls. One actually looked a bit more like a house and I chalked it up to the fact that not only was it built entirely of stone, but the roof was made of slate.
“That was the last house abandoned,” Kevin said.
I nodded. “I can see why,” I said. “Still mostly standing after all these years.” None of the houses were big. The one standing was a single square room. The others looked like they had been about the same size. I set my bag down and took out my camera. Slipping off the lens cap I surveyed the large clearing and planned my shots.
I had been given a vague description of what was needed and told to just bring back what I could. I knew from experience that Harold would want a lot of photos to choose from. Having a large amount made him feel discerning. The fact that I could always tell which ones he would take from the lot didn’t matter. He wanted to be the one choosing them. And he wanted options. I started with wide shots of the whole area, circling around to get different angles. I stood, I squatted down and for one shot I even lay down on my stomach on the rocky ground. Little did I know that angle would save my life.
I was down on the ground and mostly hidden behind one of the walls. I heard the gunshot, but at first, I didn’t realize that’s what it was. I froze, instinctively, listening for more sounds. I almost called out for Kevin, but before I could say anything I heard the voices.
“Quick, before anyone comes looking,” one of them said. I saw the two men race into the still standing building. I could see them from the side and I took a couple of quick shots, hoping they wouldn’t see me. They never looked in my direction. They took two black duffle bags from the small house and then ran off. I stayed still, listening to their retreating footsteps.
Ten til Midnight 