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Summary
John watches the man on the black horse from the shadow of his porch, his broken-open shotgun slung over his shoulder. He’s undoubtedly a taxman, looking at the quality of his horse and the cut of his rich black coat, and no one else would be out here anyway - considering the acres and acres of desolate nothing in every direction.
The light breeze picks up the dust from the fields and sends it hissing over the dry wood of the porch. The bone-dry corn stalks rustle and whisper in its wake.
The man watches him, and he watches the man, until the clouds in the distance darken properly - an hour, maybe two, John doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. There’s a rumble of low and distant thunder. The man turns to look behind him at the rapidly gathering darkness, then turns back to John and spurs his horse forward.
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(Prompt 18 - In the kitchen, Lams)
Series
- Part 15 of My Deer Kinktober 2020