“Boots”
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NOTE: If you didn’t get to this particular part of my site through the post “Personal Writing Challenge”, you will want to go there first to understand what you are reading here. If you’d rather not, please understand that what you are reading on this page is a completely rough, first draft clip of a story, posted as a part of the Personal Writing Challenge article.

That said, whichever you choose, thanks for spending time with me and enjoy!


As hard as he’d worked all of his life, Wade had never seen that hue on socks before. That’s not surprising though, since he never really looked at his socks. Even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway. It’s kind of hard to see that much color in a dark room and, God knows, he never left the room without his boots on.

His curiosity was gone almost as soon as it had arrived. Yes, he had worked harder days than today, but he was ready for it to be over. He looked at the old digital clock on the table across the room as he took his sock off. The clock didn’t work anymore, but checking it every day when he got home made him feel better. No matter what else happened during the day, it was always the same time when he got home. Never a minute earlier or later. Something he could count on, even if he knew it wasn’t telling him the truth. He didn’t like lies, but he also didn’t care much about the truth.

Without even a glance in that direction, he tossed the first sock into the corner of the room where it would be joined by the other a few seconds later. He did the same with his jeans and shirt. He got up to move his boots to their regular place against the wall and blew out the candle by his clock. It was official. This day was over.

* * *

“Do we have enough to cover the whole area?”

Trevor knew they really didn’t, but still answered “Yeah Boss, it’s just going to take a little longer than we’d like.”

“Let’s get movin’ then! We need to have something to show for the day before the storm hits!”

Trevor hated days like this. He was the kind of person that liked to plan things out. Take his time. Make sure everything was just right. Taking shortcuts was just a way to ensure that something was going to go wrong. Not a good thing when you’re trying to get a team of complete amateurs to win against the pro’s. He surveyed the field and everything looked as good as it could be, for the most part.

“RILEY! You got that covered over there or do we need to adjust the grid?”

“I’m thinkin’ we’re ok, but I guess I ain’t really sure ’til I git up over that hump. I ain’t been out here b’fore Mr. Sikes, but I’m purdy sure we can manage if we have to. Them dogs are made fer this kinda thing!”

With that and a heavy gust of wind, Riley ran off in the other direction and, despite the less than humorous setting, Trevor chuckled. Riley was what they called “a big ol’ boy” and watching him try to run was funny enough. Throw in his attempt to grab a skittering hat in front of him while trying to get his other hand back to make the “ok” sign and face it so Trevor could see it was a damn laugh riot!

He started back to the ICP shaking his head. What timing. It had been dry all year, almost to the point of drought and, before today, had looked like it was going to stay that way for quite some time. On the brighter side, there was the recent lull in crime. Considering the statistics proving that criminals prefer dry weather, it had been relatively quiet for the last few months. Well, at least Rodney grabbed the coffee pot from the office and brought it to the ICP, because the low crime streak had ended and the weather sure wasn’t going to cooperate with any plans to figure this all out any time soon. And to top it all off, he was being left in command of the ICP. At least for now.

“I-C-P” he said, laughing to himself as he approached the Incident Command Post, which was actually just a couple of folding tables with the necessities for this particular operation. Laptops, radios and phones half buried under papers (and a couple of piles of rain ponchos for later) that barely fit on the screened in porch of an old condemned house formerly used to put up temporary farm help on this land. They would have set up inside the old house but half the floors were caved in and none of the individual rooms were large enough to fit everything together. No big deal, the porch would do for now. Trevor had already called for mobile com shelters and, though he can’t remember to zip his fly half the time, Riley had thought to bring some tarps in case of rain. Who knows, this might all come together.

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