Morning all. Are you ready for another writing prompt? Fabulous. Timers set for fifteen minutes and off we go.
I feel like the timer went off just as I was starting to get the feel of this story. He is for certain going to find something in the rubble. Not sure if it is a surprising item or a body, but something.
Tuesday, August 18th: The tornado touched down.
The tornado touched down. Trees were torn up, their roots willing and stranded in the air as their tops lay across the ground. The pathways between the trees were all but obliterated, the deeper roots stretching out under them. The soul churned as the trees fell. The ground no match for the tornado’s force. The only building in the vicinity was a maintenance shed. It held a variety of hand tools, mostly used for clearing brush and trimming trees. There was nothing electric out here and all of the battery operated items were kept further down the trail where there were charging stations for the batteries. It had electricity and was thankfully untouched.
This shed was flattened. Its roof was completely lifted off and dropped about twenty feet away and the walls looked like a giant stomped down upon it once the roof was gone. Stan was certain there was some more scientific way to look at it, but it truly looked to him as though a giant cosmic foot slammed down on top.
‘Like a bully with a sandcastle,’ he thought as he approached. ‘Except that bullies don’t generally rip the roof off first.’ He paused and decided if someone had put non-sand and shell based ornaments like toothpicks with flags the imaginary bully might pull the flag off first, if only to keep from getting a toothpick jabbed into his foot.
He shrugged. ‘Hardly the point,’ he told himself. He continued forward. Today was a collections mission. While the tools were hand held, older and replicable, they were sharp and considered a danger to the public. Looking at the torn-up pathways, he doubted the public would be visiting the area any time soon, but the tools needed to be collected. If collected now they could be cleaned, dried and possibly put back into use. Considering the cost of other repairs, saving a few dollars where they could was advantageous. Beyond that he knew if left too long the blades would grow rusty and then anyone happening upon them would end up not only potentially getting cut but getting a cut that was infected.
Having had tetanus shots of his own in the past he wouldn’t wish them on the unsuspecting.
‘Not that I’d recommend any shots to the unsuspecting,’ he thought. He frowned as he poked through the shredded wooden walls, looking for the glint of metal. Shots weren’t generally given to the unsuspecting. He supposed small children taken into the doctor’s office might not be expecting them, but generally if someone was given a shot they knew it. ‘Unless it is a killer with poison or something to know you unconscious so you wouldn’t protest being dragged off somewhere.
‘I suppose that means the cut would be unexpected and the shot expected.’ As he searched for the buried tools, slowly and carefully excavating them he let visions of murders and spy thrillers dance through his head. He had been watching a lot of murder mysteries and crime themed shows lately. Crystal loved them. He wasn’t entirely certain why but she couldn’t seem to get enough of them.
Sadly, she always seemed surprised by the mysteries unravelling. With the shows she favored, he was usually able to figure out the plot within the first ten minutes. Her shows rarely surprised him.
Ten til Midnight 