RAMPAGE
Hank LeGrand lll
(Independently published, Jan. 16, 2017)
Rocky had just put his golden-stallion - Comanche - inside the barn for the night. After securing the double doors, with the cross-board, he began walking up the shadow-darkened path toward the cabin. It had been an exceptionally hard day for Rocky at the farm, and partial-exhaustion was starting to take its toll. He was now looking for some well-deserved rest on the cabin’s front porch swing. Rocky could soon see the candle’s light flickering through the partially opened windows, as he made his way up the path toward the cabin. He could also smell the wonderful aroma of freshly baked pumpkin pies his ma had recently set on the windowsill. The grayish sky was growing darker by the second, and the swirling wind had started to strengthen with an eerie sound - as if some mystical storm were descending upon the valley. Rocky started walking faster, but suddenly, as if struck by lightning, stopped dead in his tracks. He was temporarily frozen in place by the blood-curdling screams of some misfortunate animal in trouble, big trouble. The almost ghostly noises sent waves of chills shooting clear through to his bones! Rocky had never heard such sounds in the valley before, and little did he know they would only get worse.