| General Fiction posted May 19, 2018 |
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a cliche away 1147 words
A dark and stormy night
by LIJ Red
Back in the days before everyone earned their living sitting in front of their laptop with their Blackberry in their ear, and only yellow people far away made carpet, summers in lowland Georgia pushed even seasoned people to the edge, especially when the moon was full.
Jared crawled from beneath the B & J single loop carpet tufter and peered through the open dock door fifty yards away, barely recognizable as human through the lint, grease, and sweat covering him. Songbirds were winging and the trees looked pale, showing the underside of their summer leaves. He uncapped the can of hand cleaner on his rolling tool-box and scooped out a tablespoon of green gel and scrubbed his hands together as he strode toward the dock door.
Out on the edge of The Bottoms, the sunset was miles away, not on top of the mountains at the edge of his yard as he was used to seeing. The sun painted the anvilhead red up one side as the thunderstorm swooped from the Northwest. Eerily beautiful, this sweltering end of day.
Jared wiped his hands on a shop-cloth as he walked along the row of tufter machines, each the size of a small dwelling. Each was a glare of task lights and thundering like a locomotive, with a 12-foot-wide roll of greige carpet the size of a saw-log turning, slowly winding up on the roll-up machine in front of it.
By the time he walked the hundred yards from the tufting department, through the narrow aisles of the yarn warehouse, to the maintenance shop, the cloud had swallowed the sunset and the night had fallen. For moments the striding, hump-shouldered cumulus monster was silvered by the rising moon, then the darkness was complete, a full hour before its time.
The streetlamps on the one utility pole in the parking lot flickered to life as the photocell contacts closed.
Several people were gathered at the shop door, an open roll-up door large enough to admit a truck to the building. The shift superintendent was among them. Jared addressed her, "Car windows up, Gail?"
"I sent your honeylamb to check them all. Now we're making bets whether she'll make it." the curvy brunette replied. "Better go get'er."
"Naw. Hilda's the one who looks good wet." Jared grinned. "Big old lonesome thunderhead. Gonna be lots of air-to-ground lightning. Who'll take even money the lights go out?"
"Hesh yo mouf. Our production is all to Hell for the week anyway. Your fault, for them motors popping like popcorn." Gail shook her fist at Jared.
"Of course. Always maintenance's fault. And of course we never produce anything. I got your damned old Number Six running, by the way."
"Finally. I had about given up."
A middle-aged man entered the shop from the warehouse, walking too fast for the stuffy heat. His face was beaded with sweat. He exclaimed, "Gail, there's a woman trying to force her way through the entrance gate. I told her to back off, and she told me to--well, it would have been interesting to see."
"What kind of woman, Richard?" Gail asked.
"She's youngish, and not wearing much of anything, with purple hair that's white down the middle. I think she's got a pistol in her shorts."
"There's enough slack in the gate mechanism that you can squeeze between the halves if you break the magnetic latch's grip." Jared said. "I do that a lot, when I'm checking riser valves and reading meters. Easier than entering the numbers. She'll be in if she keeps trying."
"You are dead meat, Jared. Come with me, let's stop the gal." Gail said.
"Who, me?"
"You look scary. Bring a hammer or something."
"Call the law."
"Law, law. Come on, dammit."
They walked out the truck door and along the paved yard beside the mill wall. The lightning was a blue flickering under the dark bottom of the thundercloud, as if an arc-bird were trapped there and flapping. The thunder was a distant bumping. They walked two hundred paces, around an obtuse corner in the metal building wall.
The intruder had defeated the swinging gates. Richard had closed the employee walk-in door, a sturdy if rusty metal door with no glass. The girl was alternately kicking the door and jerking at the steel handle. She was cursing steadily.
She turned to face them and pulled a small plated revolver from her elastic waistband. Her shorts were tiny things. Her nipples were visible through her sweaty tube top. The unusually petite hand holding the pistol shook.
"Think, girl," Gail said. "You are stepping out of your world into a totally different place. There is a line, and you just crossed it."
The wind dropped, the thunder paused, the world teetered on a fence-rail. Gail put her hand on Jared's shoulder.
The mad girl's blue eyes were huge, and wild. She stared at Gail's calm baby-face and then at the pistol. Thunder boomed far away, and the rising breeze stirred her purple hair.
"I wanna see Helen." the girl almost screamed. She lowered the pistol. The mountain groaned as the mouse came forth.
Jared stepped close and took the weapon from her hand. She gave it up readily, wailing. "She lied to me . She cheated on me, She's a whore. Oh, God, I."
The first sheet of rain hit them with a roaring swoosh.
"You go home. You cannot see her here, not in the state you are in," Gail said. "Come back when you're in your right mind, and you can have your pistol. I am going to tell her you were here, waving a gun around. The rest is up to you and her and the sheriff, or whoever. Now leave. Quickly."
The girl started to go, then turned and grabbed Gail and hugged her. She ran to the gate. Jared handed the gun to Gail and went to the gate and levered the magnet latch apart with the ease of much practice, and let the girl slip through.
The boss and the electrician stood in the beating downpour, watching the girl drive away.
"Ain't it neat seeing somebody grow up?" Gail asked.
They jogged to the truck door through the storm, cringing as a lightning bolt splintered a sapling at the edge of the mill's lawn.
Hilda reached the dry shop area a few steps ahead of them. She looked very good dripping wet, in salmon leggings and tank top. She kissed Jared, saying, "Some people don't have the sense to come in out of the rain."
"Next time you play wingman to our crazy bosslady and I'll roll up the car windows." Jared said.
"Oh, Gail and I have flown a few missions." Hilda shook her short blonde hair like a wet sheepdog.
There was a flash and an immediate deafening boom and the lights went out.
"Waaah!" Gail howled forlornly.
Back in the days before everyone earned their living sitting in front of their laptop with their Blackberry in their ear, and only yellow people far away made carpet, summers in lowland Georgia pushed even seasoned people to the edge, especially when the moon was full.
Jared crawled from beneath the B & J single loop carpet tufter and peered through the open dock door fifty yards away, barely recognizable as human through the lint, grease, and sweat covering him. Songbirds were winging and the trees looked pale, showing the underside of their summer leaves. He uncapped the can of hand cleaner on his rolling tool-box and scooped out a tablespoon of green gel and scrubbed his hands together as he strode toward the dock door.
Out on the edge of The Bottoms, the sunset was miles away, not on top of the mountains at the edge of his yard as he was used to seeing. The sun painted the anvilhead red up one side as the thunderstorm swooped from the Northwest. Eerily beautiful, this sweltering end of day.
Jared wiped his hands on a shop-cloth as he walked along the row of tufter machines, each the size of a small dwelling. Each was a glare of task lights and thundering like a locomotive, with a 12-foot-wide roll of greige carpet the size of a saw-log turning, slowly winding up on the roll-up machine in front of it.
By the time he walked the hundred yards from the tufting department, through the narrow aisles of the yarn warehouse, to the maintenance shop, the cloud had swallowed the sunset and the night had fallen. For moments the striding, hump-shouldered cumulus monster was silvered by the rising moon, then the darkness was complete, a full hour before its time.
The streetlamps on the one utility pole in the parking lot flickered to life as the photocell contacts closed.
Several people were gathered at the shop door, an open roll-up door large enough to admit a truck to the building. The shift superintendent was among them. Jared addressed her, "Car windows up, Gail?"
"I sent your honeylamb to check them all. Now we're making bets whether she'll make it." the curvy brunette replied. "Better go get'er."
"Naw. Hilda's the one who looks good wet." Jared grinned. "Big old lonesome thunderhead. Gonna be lots of air-to-ground lightning. Who'll take even money the lights go out?"
"Hesh yo mouf. Our production is all to Hell for the week anyway. Your fault, for them motors popping like popcorn." Gail shook her fist at Jared.
"Of course. Always maintenance's fault. And of course we never produce anything. I got your damned old Number Six running, by the way."
"Finally. I had about given up."
A middle-aged man entered the shop from the warehouse, walking too fast for the stuffy heat. His face was beaded with sweat. He exclaimed, "Gail, there's a woman trying to force her way through the entrance gate. I told her to back off, and she told me to--well, it would have been interesting to see."
"What kind of woman, Richard?" Gail asked.
"She's youngish, and not wearing much of anything, with purple hair that's white down the middle. I think she's got a pistol in her shorts."
"There's enough slack in the gate mechanism that you can squeeze between the halves if you break the magnetic latch's grip." Jared said. "I do that a lot, when I'm checking riser valves and reading meters. Easier than entering the numbers. She'll be in if she keeps trying."
"You are dead meat, Jared. Come with me, let's stop the gal." Gail said.
"Who, me?"
"You look scary. Bring a hammer or something."
"Call the law."
"Law, law. Come on, dammit."
They walked out the truck door and along the paved yard beside the mill wall. The lightning was a blue flickering under the dark bottom of the thundercloud, as if an arc-bird were trapped there and flapping. The thunder was a distant bumping. They walked two hundred paces, around an obtuse corner in the metal building wall.
The intruder had defeated the swinging gates. Richard had closed the employee walk-in door, a sturdy if rusty metal door with no glass. The girl was alternately kicking the door and jerking at the steel handle. She was cursing steadily.
She turned to face them and pulled a small plated revolver from her elastic waistband. Her shorts were tiny things. Her nipples were visible through her sweaty tube top. The unusually petite hand holding the pistol shook.
"Think, girl," Gail said. "You are stepping out of your world into a totally different place. There is a line, and you just crossed it."
The wind dropped, the thunder paused, the world teetered on a fence-rail. Gail put her hand on Jared's shoulder.
The mad girl's blue eyes were huge, and wild. She stared at Gail's calm baby-face and then at the pistol. Thunder boomed far away, and the rising breeze stirred her purple hair.
"I wanna see Helen." the girl almost screamed. She lowered the pistol. The mountain groaned as the mouse came forth.
Jared stepped close and took the weapon from her hand. She gave it up readily, wailing. "She lied to me . She cheated on me, She's a whore. Oh, God, I."
The first sheet of rain hit them with a roaring swoosh.
"You go home. You cannot see her here, not in the state you are in," Gail said. "Come back when you're in your right mind, and you can have your pistol. I am going to tell her you were here, waving a gun around. The rest is up to you and her and the sheriff, or whoever. Now leave. Quickly."
The girl started to go, then turned and grabbed Gail and hugged her. She ran to the gate. Jared handed the gun to Gail and went to the gate and levered the magnet latch apart with the ease of much practice, and let the girl slip through.
The boss and the electrician stood in the beating downpour, watching the girl drive away.
"Ain't it neat seeing somebody grow up?" Gail asked.
They jogged to the truck door through the storm, cringing as a lightning bolt splintered a sapling at the edge of the mill's lawn.
Hilda reached the dry shop area a few steps ahead of them. She looked very good dripping wet, in salmon leggings and tank top. She kissed Jared, saying, "Some people don't have the sense to come in out of the rain."
"Next time you play wingman to our crazy bosslady and I'll roll up the car windows." Jared said.
"Oh, Gail and I have flown a few missions." Hilda shook her short blonde hair like a wet sheepdog.
There was a flash and an immediate deafening boom and the lights went out.
"Waaah!" Gail howled forlornly.
Jared crawled from beneath the B & J single loop carpet tufter and peered through the open dock door fifty yards away, barely recognizable as human through the lint, grease, and sweat covering him. Songbirds were winging and the trees looked pale, showing the underside of their summer leaves. He uncapped the can of hand cleaner on his rolling tool-box and scooped out a tablespoon of green gel and scrubbed his hands together as he strode toward the dock door.
Out on the edge of The Bottoms, the sunset was miles away, not on top of the mountains at the edge of his yard as he was used to seeing. The sun painted the anvilhead red up one side as the thunderstorm swooped from the Northwest. Eerily beautiful, this sweltering end of day.
Jared wiped his hands on a shop-cloth as he walked along the row of tufter machines, each the size of a small dwelling. Each was a glare of task lights and thundering like a locomotive, with a 12-foot-wide roll of greige carpet the size of a saw-log turning, slowly winding up on the roll-up machine in front of it.
By the time he walked the hundred yards from the tufting department, through the narrow aisles of the yarn warehouse, to the maintenance shop, the cloud had swallowed the sunset and the night had fallen. For moments the striding, hump-shouldered cumulus monster was silvered by the rising moon, then the darkness was complete, a full hour before its time.
The streetlamps on the one utility pole in the parking lot flickered to life as the photocell contacts closed.
Several people were gathered at the shop door, an open roll-up door large enough to admit a truck to the building. The shift superintendent was among them. Jared addressed her, "Car windows up, Gail?"
"I sent your honeylamb to check them all. Now we're making bets whether she'll make it." the curvy brunette replied. "Better go get'er."
"Naw. Hilda's the one who looks good wet." Jared grinned. "Big old lonesome thunderhead. Gonna be lots of air-to-ground lightning. Who'll take even money the lights go out?"
"Hesh yo mouf. Our production is all to Hell for the week anyway. Your fault, for them motors popping like popcorn." Gail shook her fist at Jared.
"Of course. Always maintenance's fault. And of course we never produce anything. I got your damned old Number Six running, by the way."
"Finally. I had about given up."
A middle-aged man entered the shop from the warehouse, walking too fast for the stuffy heat. His face was beaded with sweat. He exclaimed, "Gail, there's a woman trying to force her way through the entrance gate. I told her to back off, and she told me to--well, it would have been interesting to see."
"What kind of woman, Richard?" Gail asked.
"She's youngish, and not wearing much of anything, with purple hair that's white down the middle. I think she's got a pistol in her shorts."
"There's enough slack in the gate mechanism that you can squeeze between the halves if you break the magnetic latch's grip." Jared said. "I do that a lot, when I'm checking riser valves and reading meters. Easier than entering the numbers. She'll be in if she keeps trying."
"You are dead meat, Jared. Come with me, let's stop the gal." Gail said.
"Who, me?"
"You look scary. Bring a hammer or something."
"Call the law."
"Law, law. Come on, dammit."
They walked out the truck door and along the paved yard beside the mill wall. The lightning was a blue flickering under the dark bottom of the thundercloud, as if an arc-bird were trapped there and flapping. The thunder was a distant bumping. They walked two hundred paces, around an obtuse corner in the metal building wall.
The intruder had defeated the swinging gates. Richard had closed the employee walk-in door, a sturdy if rusty metal door with no glass. The girl was alternately kicking the door and jerking at the steel handle. She was cursing steadily.
She turned to face them and pulled a small plated revolver from her elastic waistband. Her shorts were tiny things. Her nipples were visible through her sweaty tube top. The unusually petite hand holding the pistol shook.
"Think, girl," Gail said. "You are stepping out of your world into a totally different place. There is a line, and you just crossed it."
The wind dropped, the thunder paused, the world teetered on a fence-rail. Gail put her hand on Jared's shoulder.
The mad girl's blue eyes were huge, and wild. She stared at Gail's calm baby-face and then at the pistol. Thunder boomed far away, and the rising breeze stirred her purple hair.
"I wanna see Helen." the girl almost screamed. She lowered the pistol. The mountain groaned as the mouse came forth.
Jared stepped close and took the weapon from her hand. She gave it up readily, wailing. "She lied to me . She cheated on me, She's a whore. Oh, God, I."
The first sheet of rain hit them with a roaring swoosh.
"You go home. You cannot see her here, not in the state you are in," Gail said. "Come back when you're in your right mind, and you can have your pistol. I am going to tell her you were here, waving a gun around. The rest is up to you and her and the sheriff, or whoever. Now leave. Quickly."
The girl started to go, then turned and grabbed Gail and hugged her. She ran to the gate. Jared handed the gun to Gail and went to the gate and levered the magnet latch apart with the ease of much practice, and let the girl slip through.
The boss and the electrician stood in the beating downpour, watching the girl drive away.
"Ain't it neat seeing somebody grow up?" Gail asked.
They jogged to the truck door through the storm, cringing as a lightning bolt splintered a sapling at the edge of the mill's lawn.
Hilda reached the dry shop area a few steps ahead of them. She looked very good dripping wet, in salmon leggings and tank top. She kissed Jared, saying, "Some people don't have the sense to come in out of the rain."
"Next time you play wingman to our crazy bosslady and I'll roll up the car windows." Jared said.
"Oh, Gail and I have flown a few missions." Hilda shook her short blonde hair like a wet sheepdog.
There was a flash and an immediate deafening boom and the lights went out.
"Waaah!" Gail howled forlornly.
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