Morning Chatter

This morning I heard crows chattering outside my window. I must be dreaming, only roosters are supposed to make enough noise to wake a body up. I had been asleep on my side facing the window. I opened one eye, and looked directly out my window. All I saw was empty blue sky.

My ears told me that something was going on. I sat up, saw nothing, stood up and saw what I heard. Three old bats screaming and yelling over a box.

Three grown women argued in the road outside my second story window. Dressed for the great outdoors, the tallest one had ratty red hair. The next one had gray hair and was shorter that the other two. The last one had blond curly hair turning gray. They looked related, with the same crooked nose.

The sisters argued over a box, pulling it away from each other. The box ripped as they argued. The side facing me was torn enough to show something yellow. I went downstairs, to get a better look out the front windows. I heard more of their argument.

Curly shouted “I got it for me, not you, give it back.” Red and Shorty argued the same thing and they kept tugging and pulling the box.

No matter how much they argued, it didn’t matter because suddenly the box popped open. The yellow object had ropes attached and started to come out. The three women fought over a yellow raft.

My eyes opened wide with surprise. The raft started inflating. The box tore completely apart, fell to the ground with a thud, and turned on its side. A red canister, labeled Hydrogen, rolled out of the box. It was attached to the raft with a long tube.

As it got bigger, the raft started to lift off the ground. I was mesmerized.

The old bats tugged and pulled at the ropes, and shouted. “This is mine!” “No, this is mine!” “No, give it to me.” Their shouts woke up more neighbors.

The raft started to rise into the air, bobbing from side to side as the arguing women tugged and pulled on the ropes. Their arms lifted up as the raft went up. Pretty soon, Shorty was on her tiptoes trying to keep the raft.

The yellow raft was large enough for eight people. It lifted higher off the ground and Shorty held onto the ropes with a final claim, “This is mine damn it, let it go.”

Shorty’s feet dangled in the air when the raft detached from the tube and took to the skies with all the women hanging on for dear life.

Higher and higher they went. As they passed the neighbor’s house, the wind blew them in a southerly direction. Where would they go? Would they sail over the river, a mile away?

I recalled a story in the newspaper, and chuckled softly to myself, “Latest Craze: Helium River Rafting”. But the red canister was marked Hydrogen.

The yellow raft floated above the pine trees about three houses down when I started to worry and called 911. “Hello, 911, this is 128 South Canyon River Road. There’s a yellow raft with three old women dangling from it, floating in the sky, and heading south.”

A few minutes later, I heard sirens heading toward Canyon River Road. Help was on the way.

 

Winter 2016 Contest Submission #2
contest@wow-womenonwriting.com
Tuesday, January 29, 2016 5:53 PM

By Linda Judd

Advertisements