Nasty Weather

No one realized, when the twister touched ground just outside of town, that it was dropping off as much as it was picking up. It had been a sultry summer with thunderheads beginning to build in the late morning and lightening before supper. But the twister came as a bit of a surprise, ripping the roof off a school and tipping over a couple of farm vehicles and a school bus.

And something else.

In an abandoned farmhouse at the end of a county road 313 something unknown blew in. It was still there when the winds dissipated. It moved silently from room to room amid the Grad 2009 graffiti, empty beer bottles and plaster dust. The mice moved out.

Of course, all of this was lost on Fredrick (Freddy) Murray as he gunned the TransAm and fishtailed up the unpaved county road. Freddy had been in the bar in town most of the afternoon — like most afternoons — and he was headed home in an evil mood. Behind his eyes, the beginnings of a daytime liquor headache had just started to announce itself, and Freddy was fresh out of Advil.

He also had to piss. Really bad. He pulled into the old farmhouse to get off the road and urinated in the bushes. It was while he was engaged in relieving himself that he saw the thing staring at him. Freddy was suddenly sober. He knew whatever was looking out that window knew more about him that he knew about himself. The early evening wind picked up and dirt from the county road began swirling into devils.

Freddy jumped back into the Trans Am, cranked the ignition and gunned the engine. He didn’t notice the doors locking and it was a few seconds before he smelled the seats burning. No one saw the fire and no one really missed Freddy. The burned wreck of the muscle car seemed right at home in front of the abandoned farmhouse.

No one questioned it.