Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Good grief. I really needed to get a grip before I scared myself senseless. I forced my gaze away from possible weapons and focused on looking for what I needed. Unfortunately, other than the tools I would need later, I wasn’t seeing anything that rang the bell of my memory. Sighing, I pulled my head back out into the light. It was going to take a little more effort, but I was young and healthy and relatively smart so I was sure I could do it. With that in mind, I headed back to the house.
I now had a mission far more concrete than a garden. And it would require a lot less weeding. Once back at the house, I climbed the porch steps, automatically taking a giant step to skip over the second one from the top. My first day back, I’d learned it was rotten. My ankle still had a scratch as a reminder to look before I stepped. At least I’d found the porch safe to navigate but that might have to do with the fact it was screened in and somewhat protected from the elements.
Pulling the screen door open, I remembered seeing what I’d thought was an abandoned nest of some creature that had put in a change of address with my arrival. However, now that I was thinking about my mission, I was crossing my fingers and toes that I’d been wrong.
I cautiously poked at the pile of thick reeds sitting on top of an old table in one corner of the porch. When nothing attached to teeth, claws, stingers or, god forbid, fangs hissed or snarled, I decided it was safe enough.
“Bingo!” I shouted after I picked up the reeds and gave them a shake. It wasn’t some rodent’s home. At least not that kind of home. I could still hear my grandmother’s laugh while correcting me that it wasn’t a skip, but a skep. While I’d watched with fascinations as she’d woven the reeds together, she’d told me stories about how they were used to move bees from one place to another. The memory made me smile.
“Thanks, Grammie O,” I whispered as I dusted the reeds off before heading inside. I’d only need a couple of other things and then I’d be ready to go. Of course, everyone knew that the best work happened when one was properly fueled. A nice tall glass of lemonade and a cookie or two would be just the ticket.
When I’d set out to track the bees, it had been sunny but as afternoon wore on, it seemed to be turning darker earlier than usual. Or else, I’d been trekking far longer than I’d thought. I paused and transferred the backpack from one shoulder to another. Its weight wasn’t the real problem but the fact that it only had one strap instead of two made it impossible to distribute the weight properly on my back. Instead, I’d been slinging it over first one shoulder than another while following the bees.
I was ready to admit that my memories of bee tracking might be a bit skewed. Turns out bees did not fly in a straight line. I could also confess that humming “The Flight of the Bumblebee” wasn’t the least bit helpful as there didn’t seem to be any discernible pattern to their flight at all.
“Any suggestions?” I wasn’t asking anyone in particular. At this stage I would be grateful to hear from Miss Know-It-All if she had any helpful tips.
I squealed and almost jumped out of my skin when I heard someone telling me to move. With my free hand pressed to my chest, I momentarily froze and when it came again, decided I wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Aaiieee!” I cried as I swung the pack off my shoulder and spun in a circle ready to swipe whoever had spoken off their feet. Once they were prone I’d figure out what to do or, more likely, run for my life. Only there was no one there. Panting, I repeated the rotation, far slower while searching the shadows.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied, hopefully with enough force to be plausible. “Don’t be a scaredy-cat! Come out and fight like a man.”
Please, Universe, if you don’t let a man step out of the woods with a cleaver, I’ll be forever grateful.
Either the fates believed me or were extending me grace because after rotating until I was dizzy, I was still alone. I plopped down to sit on a log and dropped my head between my spread knees. It took several deep breaths before the world stopped spinning and I was ready to admit I hadn’t heard anything other than some animal walking about.
“Mooooo…”
“Jumping jelly bellies!” This time my scream might have been a little louder and a lot longer but I didn’t care. I was ready to scream my bloody head off if I kept hearing disembodied voices. Other stories suddenly flooded my mind along with images that I really, really did not need to be visualizing right now. Not out in the middle of the woods!