Happy Halloween! My poor Jack-o-lantern looks so bad. The poor thing lots his cap. We blew out the candle last night and the stem topper slipped straight inside when I put it back because the top hope widened as he sagged. I just need one more night. You can do it Mr. Jack-o-lantern! For now, the prompt. Timers set and off we go.
Somehow oddly appropriate for Halloween.
Thursday, October 31st: Many small streams emptied into the pool.
Many small streams emptied into the pool. Normally it was a peaceful tranquil place filled with the soothing sounds of running water, birds chirping and the occasional small rodent rustling in the undergrowth. Butterflies even flitted through the scene on a regular enough basis.
Now, things were less idyllic. The recent rains had not only swollen the streams but expanded the pool, shifting it almost into lake status. He wasn’t entirely certain what the water volume requirement was for a lake qualification, but the once small pool was close to qualifying. With the excess water came things.
Most of it was trash that the water carried off when the streams swelled. There were pool floats and beer coolers. At the edge of the water line the pointy hats of several displaced garden gnomes stuck out of the water like jagged red rocks that looked surprisingly fang like. One was located closer to the edge and not only his hat protruded but the water line lapped at the center of his eyes. Paint or not, Steve couldn’t’ shake the feeling that the gnome was watching him.
There were worse things than the trash that floated down. It was for this reason Steve was brough in. He may have fond memories of pleasant picnics by the side of the pond and cool dips in the hot summer, but he was not here to relive the past but to deal with the present.
The flood was quick and despite the incoming rain, not entirely expected. Usually such storms dropped some rain but the bulk were shunted off to the east, the topography acting as a barrier. This time, they took the full weight. People and animals were trapped. Many of the streams and rivers had taken the lives of small and some not so small wildlife. While people on higher ground were reporting an influx of deer and bear as well as veritable armies of racoons, there were also reports of the bloated remains of those who couldn’t get to the high ground fast enough.
He was certain that the various wildlife management groups would be doing assessments of their own. While he could see the remains of several furry victims, they weren’t his concern. His concern was the human they found floating in the water. The body hadn’t been in the water long enough to bloat, for which he was thankful. It had also been dragged out of the water and away from the flotsam. He watched a flamingo shaped cup holder float by and he was grateful that the body was on shore. He was worried that it was being called a body. Usually he was given gender when reports arrived. Even if those reports were sometimes wrong people didn’t like calling dead people it.
‘Sometimes they just say a body, I suppose,’ He thought as he picked his way through the detritus. ‘Then pronouns started to slip in when no one was thinking about it.’
On the shore the body looked so very pink compared to the dark fur and mud spattered trash.
Ten til Midnight 