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Set a spell



The cabin hid behind its sagging wooden porch. Only gradually did one realize the frayed clothing in the battered folding chair held a man. The jeans were patched and re-patched, the shirt might have been yellow once, the hair and beard were white, the face was lined and dark. Behind the cabin the land fell away. The front of the structure already shadowed, the valley behind was drowned in light. The old man might've been staring at a young visitor standing in front of his home.

The Colonel cleared his throat, unused for so long. "Johnny? Is that you? City treating you well?"

Silence.

There might've been a time ... but no, there was no one. The fading sound of a car going down the little-used dirt road, a brief pause to the bird song and rustling in the dry leaves. The house was empty as it had ever been; on the porch a gray rag and a couple of broken sticks were heavily carpeted with dust.