Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: FINISHED (04/09/20)
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TITLE: The Old Wooden Shed | Previous Challenge Entry
By Sandra Hartman
04/16/20 -
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Hear the sounds swishing, swishing, swishing, across the yard through the trees over the pond blending with the rasping of the cicada’s wings.
Up the foot worn trail and over the flowered hill the white shed stands alone like a sentinel.
Swishing, grating, swishing
A peek inside through the cracked wooden door reveals a man in old coveralls standing by a dusty sunlit window. The scent of fresh wood fills the air. He is bent over his work, swishing, swishing, swishing. The sound echoes from the rafters of the tall roof overhead. So much so that he doesn’t recognize our step as our shoe touches the stone floor inside.
I see now! He is smoothing, smoothing, smoothing, the rough edges of a narrow board laid across two saw horses that straddle rich brown mountains of sawdust. With every step the dust swirls upwards through the air to where a lonely turtle dove gently coos.
Now he picks up a paint brush from a near by can and swipes and swipes the sides and edges all in white then reaching over in one practiced move he props it up in the corner on a busy worn table by the window.
I look along the far wall and there they stand in strong quiet rows like soldiers ready for battle. Crosses upon crosses silent sentinels of the work before them.
He turns and nods his head to acknowledge me. He sweeps off the dusty cap he wears revealing the graying strands of once thick hair.
I want to make small talk, comment on the sunny day, but here standing in his stooped presence the frivolous words catch in my throat.
“You’ve been busy,” I finally say in a rather feeble voice.
“Yep,” he replies
“As long as there is a need.” He stares for a moment at the silent soldiers he has made and a tear sparkles in his eye.
Sensing his deep exhaustion, “You’ll be finished soon I think. Surely these will be enough.”
“Will it?” His sharp blue eyes pierce my soul seeking an answer. An answer he knows I don’t have.
He picks up a TV remote and turns on an ancient tv in the corner. A blond news anchor is blowing in the wind outside of a large school. “Today at Almont High 8 students were shot to death and 5 more wounded including the shooters.” She announces.
As fast as it appeared the screen goes blank and the old gentlemen returns to his work.
“8 more crosses, he sighs. 8 more needed. Am I finished? I wish, I hope, but then there is another day another shooting and a need to be filled. I will stand these crosses up there at the school and add the names and flowers for them and for those who love them and will miss them forever.
And with that he turns picks up another piece of wood. Swishing, swishing, swishing---------
This story is based on the true story of the man who makes the wooden crosses and takes them to the sites of the school shootings. I do not know him, so this is mostly fiction. but that man’s actions are a true story that always gives me pause.
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I agree that the lack of spacing made it difficult to read... sometimes the "preview" option can help prevent these spacing issues.... but it could also have been caused by the current glitches with the uploads.