Nancy s summer diary july
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The Visitor / Skyla's Diary: Monday, July 10 free porn video
The Visitor / Skyla's Diary: Monday, July 10
Just when I think it can't get any worse with these people it does. Old
man Henson threatened to kick me out yesterday if I didn't go to church
with them. Well I went, and they must have been planning this like
forever, because every sermon, every song, every prayer was aimed right
at me. Everything was God's will this and God's will that, and if you
don't do just exactly everything God wants just exactly perfect, you go
to Hell. And they wouldn't even let me use the bathroom. I mean, yeah,
they had a segregated bathroom for transgendered only, but that just made
me feel like some kind of freak.
When we got home everything just got that much weirder. There's nothing
to do. After we fix supper, eat, and clean up afterward, there's old man
Henson reading the Bible to us and praying again. Then everyone goes off
and sits in their room till it gets dark. Boring!!!!!!! I say everyone;
the boys went outside and wandered off into the woods. I was tempted to
follow them, but I have had my fill of that jungle out there. I sat
around until I couldn't stand it anymore and went out to walk around the
garden.
While I was walking laps, all I could think about was next Saturday, when
I would be able to see my friends and be able to be free again. Last
Friday had been the tiniest taste of life itself, and that makes what I'm
living now feel like being in jail all over again. They're always
attacking me.
I don't know how long I was out there, but when it got towards dusk, I
began hearing the most awful sounds, like something out of a horror
movie. It started with one howling wail to the south. Very soon it was
followed by another and then another and then another after that from
every direction. I stopped walking and looked around at the forest. As it
got darker, the howling got closer. I know it sounds crazy, but I
couldn't help thinking of the zombie movies I'd seen and that they were
coming for me. I knew I should run back toward the light of the house,
but I found I just couldn't move.
"Skyla!" Who was that? Who was calling me?
"Skyla!" There it was again. This time I could hear footsteps closing in
on me from behind. Something grabbed my arm and spun me around. I
realized for the first time that I was breathing in short jerky spasms
and my arms were trembling. I felt something liquid run down my back.
"Skyla, it's coyotes. Let's go inside." It was Hannah. I still couldn't
move. I couldn't talk. She grabbed my arms and shook. That's all I
needed. Suddenly I could move and talk. I followed her into the house and
leaned against a wall where I could stop trembling and catch my breath.
"They're all around us," I said, "and they're closing in."
"I know," Hannah said softly. "When we first moved here, they scared us
the same way. It sounded like there were a million of them and like they
were out to kill us all. Daddy even spent the first few nights on the
roof with his shotgun expecting to have to fight them off."
"Did they attack?" I asked.
"Not like we thought they would. Turns out that since we were new in
their territory, they just wanted to let us know they were here, I guess
to intimidate us. They know we're bigger than them. And somehow, they
know we're predators too, just like them, so they don't ever challenge us
face to face, unless one of them happens to be rabid. They do sneak
around and try to get the animals though, which is why we keep them
penned up at night. Early on they got some of them, even one of our
dogs."
"They attack dogs," I said. "How big are they?"
"Bigger than most dogs," Hannah said, "but not as big as wolves. And they
were very sneaky when it came to our dogs. You know how a dog will bark
at anything that gets his attention? Well, one of them would creep up to
the edge of the yard and attract our dog, who would chase it. The coyote
would run just fast enough to lead it away into the woods. The other
coyotes in the pack would attack and kill it. The next day or so we would
find the skeleton."
All I could do was shake my head 'no'. Why would anyone live out here?
"It's not so bad now," Hannah replied. "Daddy and the boys do a lot of
shooting, and that intimidates them. They haven't serenaded us like
tonight for quite a while, maybe a year or two."
"Why would they start up now?" I asked.
"Probably because of you?"
"Me?"
"You're a new scent, for all they know, new prey. They have very likely
been gathering ever since you arrived. Your walking around in the dark
like that got them all stirred up. If you had stayed out there much
longer, you likely would have seen one of them."
"Oh no," I said. I could remember walking home from school as a small
child and having to pass a house where a dog would come out barking at
me. I just knew it was going to bite me, but my dad had ordered me never
to run. He had said if I ran, the dog would pursue. If I just kept
walking till I got out of its territory, it would stop barking. All that
turned out to be true, but it was a terrifying experience for a little
kid.
"It wouldn't have attacked you," Hannah said with a knowing smile. "It
would have pretended to be friendly, even acted submissive like a dog and
gradually lured you into the woods. Once there, the pack would have
jumped you. If they got you down on the ground, then you'd be in serious
trouble."
I got into bed pretty soon after that thinking this place couldn't get
any weirder. I was wrong.
This morning after breakfast and clean up, while the kids were drilling
or being drilled on lessons and I was reading something in history, Mrs.
Henson let Josiah outside to run. I'd seen her do this before. The two
little guys can't stop moving for a minute, and the longer they do school
work the worse it gets. She lets them out one at a time to run laps
around the house as fast as they can for about five minutes. When one
finishes running, the other goes out. That settles them down for 30 to 45
minutes, and then she does it again. She even asked me if I would like to
take a break and go outside, but I could tell it was just her way of
getting me to act like the boys, so I refused.
Anyway, this time when she let Josiah out, he came back in almost
immediately.
"There's a big old rattler between the house and the car," he shouted.
Josiah's eyes were bugged out and he looked really scared. Well,
everybody dropped what they were doing, jumped up, and headed for the
front porch to see. All except me; after last night's scare, I was in no
hurry to see another monster.
"Hold on, everyone," Mrs. Henson commanded, and everyone stopped in their
tracks. She walked to the front screen door but didn't open it. Instead,
she stood there staring through it. I guess she couldn't see anything, so
she pushed the door open a little and peered out.
"Careful, Mama," Hannah said.
"You said it was by the Suburban?" Mrs. Henson asked.
"Yeah, it was curled up, and I heard it rattling. It's a big one," Josiah
answered.
"Bigger than the one last summer?"
"Yeah, lots!"
Mrs. Henson closed the screen door and turned around. She looked worried
or scared or both at the same time. "I'll get the hoe. Hannah, fetch your
father's shotgun." They were actually going to go outside and face the
snake.
"Wait," I said. "Why don't you just leave it alone. It'll wander off."
"I'm sure it will at some point," Mrs. Henson replied. "In the meantime,
we can't tend our garden or our animals without the possibility of being
fanged by the thing. Not only that, if we stay inside, it has access to
our barn and our coop. Maybe the goats could kill it. Maybe the chickens
could, but we can't take the risk. We know where the danger is now, and
we cannot ignore it. If we do, it can always move and turn up some place
else and take us by surprise." With that, she went out the back door
while Hannah went over to a tall metal box-looking thing. It looked like
a file cabinet but instead of drawers, it had one big door on the front.
She got a key from somewhere, unlocked the door, and opened it.
Hannah had the shotgun out by the time her mom came back inside with a
hoe. "Bird shot, Mama?" She asked.
"I don't know. If it's a big one, maybe a turkey load number 5 or 6."
"That's going to kick," Hannah said and made a face.
"I know, maybe the hoe will do."
Hannah loaded several shells into the gun, and then she and her mother
carefully opened the screen door and went out. The rest of us gathered
behind them on the front porch. We watched them creep forward scanning
the grass and rocks everywhere around them as they made their way toward
the Suburban. They jerked to a stop at the same moment we all heard the
rattles. In Austin, even in Amarillo, the noise wouldn't have been loud
enough to notice. But out here, where there's nothing and nothing
happening, it was scary clear.
Mrs. Henson motioned to Hannah, and they both backed off a few steps. I
could see them taking deep, deep breaths in and out. Sarah and Elizabeth
were holding on to each other's arms. Josiah's hands were balled into
little fists.
"Mama, I don't think you can get close enough to use your hoe."
"He's a big one alright," she answered, "and ready to strike." Hannah
raised the shotgun. I noticed that it wobbled quite a bit. It was her old
man's gun, and she was nowhere near his size. "Wait, Hannah," her mom
commanded. "If you get him, you're liable to blow out a tire. If you
miss, you could put holes in the fender and maybe the engine." Hannah
lowered the gun, and the two looked at each other.
That's when Mark left our group and walked over to where his mom and
Hannah were standing.
"Mark, baby, go back to the house," his mom said. Her voice quivered.
Mark continued walking.
"Mom, I can get him," he said.
"How?"
".22, one shot," he said.
Mrs. Henson looked to Hannah, and she looked back at her and then at Mark
and then back at the coiled viper. Mrs. Henson nodded quickly. "Hurry!"
Mark ran into the house to the gun safe. He pulled out a little rifle
that looked like a toy. He leaned it against the open door while he
opened a tiny little box and dumped some bullets into his hand. He put
all but one into his shirt pocket, picked up the little gun, and raced
back outside.
Hannah and her mom had backed away from where they were, but they
immediately closed in on Mark when he got outside.
"Slow down, slow down, Mark. Walk slowly. Take deep breaths. Calm down."
Hannah gave the commands. Her mom put a hand on his shoulder and began
patting and rubbing it.
Mark slowed to a walk and finally came to a stop and stared down into the
grassy area in front of the car.
"Are you calm?" Hannah asked.
"Yeah."
"Can you see his head?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, breathe."
He nodded.
"Load your gun."
He pulled something back on the side of the gun, put the one bullet in
the barrel, and shoved something forward.
"Raise it."
He did.
"Cock it."
Mark reached up behind the barrel of the little rifle and pulled
something. I heard a click. Mrs. Henson lifted her hoe above her
shoulders as if ready to bring it down suddenly. Hannah brought the
shotgun up to waist level pointed toward the snake.
"Take aim," Hannah commanded. "Find some little spot or something on his
head. Put your front sight on that. Bring your rear sights up even with
the front."
Mark raised the rifle to his cheek. I could see his trigger finger
straight out beside the barrel of the gun.
"Breathe deep."
"Let some out."
"Finger."
Crack! The sound from that little gun was much louder than I thought it
would be. I jerked, but so did Sarah and Elizabeth, who clutched each
other and squealed. Josiah tore off the porch and ran toward his brother.
"You got him!" Mrs. Henson shouted, dropping the hoe and grabbing her
son. Immediately the rest of us left the porch and ran toward them too.
When I got there, I thought I would see a dead snake. Instead, I saw
this, I don't know, serpent, and he was huge. And he wasn't dead. This
thing that was as big around as my arm was twisting and thrashing and
flopping this way and that. I wanted to run back to the house, but
everyone was cheering and talking and patting Mark on the back like it
was all over.
"It's not dead," I said.
"It's dead," Hannah said. "Mark blew its brains out."
"But it's still moving," I protested.
"Central nervous system is still firing. When it uses up the last of its
oxygen, it will stop."
We watched it writhe for a few minutes more. I couldn't help thinking it
was in all kinds of agony and wished someone would just put it out of its
misery. Mrs. Henson must have seen the look on my face. She put a hand on
my arm.
"Skyla, it's dead. It just doesn't know it yet."
"And when it finally does know," Hannah added. "It will be too late for
it to do anything about it."
When finally, it did stop, Mrs. Henson took her hoe and chopped off its
head. She had Josiah bring a shovel and carry the head to the trash
barrel. Josiah threw the head into the burn barrel and set it on fire
with the rest of the trash.
"What are you going to do with the body?" I asked Hannah.
"Leave it for Daddy; he'll want to see what Mark did, and he might want
the hide for a souvenir."
"What?"
"To commemorate what his son did today."
"His son; but you're the one who told him what to do and when and how to
do it. Don't you get any credit?"
We'd been walking back to the house. She stopped and turned her head
sideways again, the way I mentioned before. When she did, the sun
splashed off her hair. "I was there for support, to remind him of what he
already knew."
"Sounded to me like you were telling him every move," I said.
"Okay, stop and think about what I said. If it had been you instead of a
nine-year old who had picked up a gun, would you have known what to do
when I gave each command?"
"Sure," I said. "I've seen people shoot guns on TV and I've shot them in
video games."
She shook her head. "Everything's imagination with you. Just because you
see something in a movie or on TV or play some kind of game, you think
that's reality. You need to start living in the real world." Then she
walked off and left me.
The real weirdness happened when Mr. Henson got home. All the kids ran
out and mobbed him like they do every evening. Each one of them had his
or her version of what happened with the snake. He went over to where the
body was, kicked it a few times, and then picked it up--with his bare
hands! And then he stretched it out and measured it.
"Almost 5 feet long," he said. "They don't come much bigger than this."
And once again everybody was patting Mark on the back.
We gathered around the table for supper, and everyone got kind of quiet.
I guess it was because Mr. Henson was looking serious, like he was
thinking hard about something. We all looked at him and waited.
"Mark," he said, looking at his son. "Speaking as one man to another, I
want to thank you for taking care of my family in my absence. You
protected my wife and my children, and that means everything to me."
I saw tears roll down Mrs. Henson's face. Josiah looked from his dad to
his brother and grinned a grin of admiration. The sisters looked at him
with the brightest eyes I have ever seen. But Mr. Henson wasn't finished.
"Speaking as a father to his son, I will never be more pleased with you
than I am today. You stepped up and assumed the responsibility God has
given you as a man. You've got a long way to go, a lot of hard times yet
to endure, but I want you to know that I thank God for giving you to us."
Then Mr. Henson left his chair, walked around the table, and shook hands
with Mark. Then he hugged him. When he returned to his place at the head
of the table, he had one more thing to say.
"In recognition of what you have done, it will now be your responsibility
to seat your sisters at table. And when I am absent, your mother as
well."
Mark's mouth dropped open. Josiah patted him on the back. The sisters
smiled, and Mrs. Henson wiped her eyes. Then we joined hands. Mr. Henson
returned thanks. We sang what they call the Doxology. Mr. Henson seated
his wife while Mark began helping his sisters into their chairs. It took
longer than it used to, but each of the sisters thanked him for his
efforts. While this was going on, Mr. Henson pointed to Josiah and then
to me. And once again, I was made to feel like some kind of freak.
I don't think I have ever felt worse than I do right now. After supper
and Bible reading and prayer and hearing Mark's triumph recounted another
hundred times, I came back to my room, sat on my bed, and stared out the
window. Mr. Henson was proud of Mark. My dad would be proud of Mark.
Mark's the man, and he's only nine. I don't know if I should be mad at
God for not making me like Mark, or if I should be mad because He didn't
make me like Hannah, but I'm neither, and I'm sick of it.
Kaylin
- 23.01.2023
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