Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Hmm, maybe a squirrel. She turned back to her paper to continue drawing, then heard the frantic flapping of bird wings. At least a dozen dark fowl were now soaring above her, some squawking as if frightened and warning others. Her heart thumped in her ears, a dull pound. As she slowly eased forward to reach for her rifle that rested against a tree, a shot rang out in the air. BANG! Followed by a loud, gruff, masculine voice.
“What are you doin’ on my land?!”
She went for the gun again, but fell back when a bullet buzzed past her ear.
“OH MY GOD! Are you crazy?! You almost shot me!” she screamed out.
Another shot rang out, this one sounding as if it were pointed behind her.
“Stop shooting, damn it! I’m unarmed! My gun is in front of me, so I don’t have it in my hand!” She nearly passed out when a taller than life human being emerged from behind several trees after a few seconds of heart-pounding silence. She raised her hands in surrender.
…Oh my, Jesus… It’s the Jolly Green Giant. With a beard and tattoos…
Somehow, he’d blended in seamlessly within the dark folds of the forest, but now, he was gawking at her with some of the brightest, lightest and coldest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Silver and blond strands of hair from his beard and hair blew softly in the breeze. He lifted his head, his large gun aimed at her, thus exposing a tapestry of black ink that draped down his neck, hugging his jugular and the flexing muscles of his throat. His fingers were dipped in the same inky designs, and she suspected his entire body had been used as a canvas.
He moved like a stealthy cat, and as big as he was, that was no small feat.
“What’s your name?” he barked. His voice was rich, deep, and full of grit.
“My… my name is Poet Constantine and I’m just drawing! THAT’S IT!”
“Well Poet, here’s a little stanza for you. Paint it in your mind, if you will: This is my land, this is my place, why shouldn’t I put a bullet in your face?” He smiled after he finished, as if he fancied himself the next Robert Frost.
“Look, I work for the Natural History Museum. I’m a taxidermist. I came to—”
“You come out here to kill these creatures?! Hunt on my land? You’re an animal stuffer?”
“No… NO! I came to see about the possibility of an unusually colored bobcat that was spotted here some months ago, maybe get a picture of it, and at least see the dens. That looks like a bobcat den over there.” She gingerly pointed in the direction of a hollowed tree. He didn’t follow her fingers. Rather, he looked through her. His eyes pierced her soul as he towered before her. He was so menacing, she nearly passed out, and she didn’t see herself being easily unsettled at all.
“I’m not gonna kill you. Stop shaking.” He slowly lowered his gun.
She had no idea that she had been, but wasn’t terribly surprised by the comment.
“I can’t really say that is a choice. It’s a reaction. You scared me.”
“And you’re on private property. You got my reaction to your choice. You coulda been killed. Not just by me, but there’s things out this way that’ll do you harm. Not to mention, I’ve got traps all over this place. I can turn them on and off from my house, but some of them are live wires, and ready right this second. Lotta vermin come up wit’ rabies. People’s dogs and cats chase ’em, and they get rabies, too. I gotta trap ’em or put ’em down. Usually put ’em down to take them out of their misery.”
She looked around, and froze. There, high above in one of the trees, was a tiny blinking light she hadn’t noticed before.
“Security system. Cameras. Drones,” he said, following her line of vision.
“This isn’t exactly the Taj Mahal. Why?” she asked, dumbfounded.
He cleared his throat. “You don’t know what’s going on ’round here, so don’t make assumptions. You came from outta nowhere. This ain’t your stompin’ grounds. I could have piles of gold for all you know.”
She huffed, crossing her arms.
He stood a bit taller, as if that were possible, and his eyes suddenly widened, then narrowed as if he’d made an assessment of sorts. One that was not in her favor…
A nasty smirk creased his lips as he looked her slowly up and down. She didn’t miss the slow swipe of his tongue along his lower lip. His ominous eyes twinkled with mischief. She swallowed as she pretended to scratch her back, relieved when her fingertips grazed the sheathed blade she kept on her most times. Good, I didn’t drop it.
“There’s cottonmouths ’round here. You best be careful. This ain’t a good spot to honker down for too long. ’Specially not to doodle.”