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Saturday, May 25, 1918 … The Storm
A horrifying roar of thunder rolled across dew-laden meadow of West Jacksonport. Lightning danced in the sky in all directions. The morning clouds darkened and the landscape turned gloomy as the girls walked faster and faster. Soon they were running hastily towards a barn. Rain started to hit the girls like small nails.
“Let’s head for that red barn over there” shrieked Pris, her voice quivering. “Mama gonna be very angry with me,” replied Ber. “But it was such a beautiful morning when we left your house,” Pris reminded her. Ber exclaimed “Oh no, oh no,” as she slipped on the tall wet meadow grass. Ber began to cry like Pris had never heard before.
Pris pulled Ber up and held her hand as the completely soaked pair resumed their run to the big red barn. Ber moaned. “Now I’m really going to be in trouble at home for getting my clothes wet and dirty!”
Pristine Parker and Berserk Bailey had been friends since they were six years old. In fact, Ber was the only decent friend Pris had. Now that they were both twelve years old, their friendship had become solid. They both loved the water and spent a fair amount of time roaming the beach off the village of Jacksonport. Today, however, they decided to walk the other way, inland, in search of spring flowers in the meadow. But the weather had other plans.
“Up yonder is a red farmhouse … let’s stop there and see if anybody’s home and maybe we get out of this stupid rain!” cried Ber. “Yes,” Pris quickly agreed, her voice now quite raspy.
The girls found shelter on the front porch of the house and Ber knocked loudly and rapidly on the door. “Helllooo … anyone home? Please, we are wet, tired, and cold.” Silence. “Knock again, quickly” yelled Pris as she ran up to each window on either side of the door and peered in. Still no answer, but to their left the girls heard a dog barking.
“There’s a dog in that barn, Ber!” exclaimed Pris. “Let’s get over there! Maybe there’s a person that can help us.” The girls almost lost their shoes in the squishy mud as they dashed from house to barn.
When they reached the barn, the door was wide open. A black Labrador retriever greeted the girls with slobbering kisses and began to jump up on them excitedly. “Well hello big puppy! Where is your master? Are you okay?” Pris was first to spot a man’s body laying on the straw on the floor about thirty feet away.
“Oh my God Ber … there’s a man on the floor over there - and he’s not moving,” Pris screamed. The girls approached the man slowly and he started to moan. “Help … who is that … who … my head hurts!” the man whimpered and then became silent. There was blood on the straw beside the man’s arm. His face had a large gash on one cheek and bruises on his forehead. The dog started licking the man’s face and he tried to speak again but could not.
The girls sat with the wounded man for an hour. Ber noticed it was quieter outside now, so they went over to the door and peeked out. The wind had abated and it seemed like the sun was trying its best to brighten up the countryside. “Pris,” she shouted, “The storm is over! Maybe you could get over to the house and get a bowl of water and a cloth to clean up the man’s face.”
As Pris gently washed the man’s face, he stirred. “Thank you my child,”he mumbled. “Who are you?” The girls took turns explaining the events of the morning. “What’s your name, Mister? What happened to you? Do you feel a bit better now?” The man replied “My name is Horace Fowler and that there is my dog Howler Fowler.” Howler rushed over and licked Horace’s face. “Folks in these parts call me ‘Ace’ for short.”
Ace was not a tall fellow. Nor was he husky. His hair was charcoal gray and his eyes were as blue as Lake Michigan on a sunny day. He was dressed in typical farmer clothes. The girls couldn’t help but notice his bad breath.
“It all started in the middle of the night when Howler woke me up barking his head off. He seemed to want to go outside, so I got dressed quickly and let him out and followed him out the door. He headed directly for the barn, and we both heard the horses neighing. That never happens. Oh, in case you’re wondering, I have two Belgian horses and two Clydesdales. Upon checking, all my horses were in the barn in their stalls for the night … but they were making those sounds and hitting the sides of the stalls with their front hooves. That’s when I felt something hit me. I passed out and fell to the floor. That’s all I remember until you woke me up. Oh God help me, no! I wonder if the horses are ok? I think I can stand up now and we’ll check on the horses. I have four of them, all beauties.” The girls helped Horace stand up.
In the stable section of the barn they found three horses. “Clyde is gone,” whimpered Ace. “And so is his bridle and saddle … oh no, no, no,” he whispered.
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No part of this work was created with Artificial Intelligence (AI). It is all the original ideation and writing from 2014 through 2023 by Stephen C. Allen.
Copyright 2023 Stephen C. Allen
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