imagination
She moved to the beach to start over. After years behind a desk, processing paperwork for deadbeats, she was looking to forward some quiet. Her monthly pension from the state, combined with social security and the money her father had left her provided enough income for the full cable package on television, her book of the month club, and necessities. She didn't subscribe to the newspaper any more; nothing in there but bad news. All her working life had been dealing with deadbeats, people making excuses for why they weren't working, why they didn't take care of their children, their bills, or themselves. The newspaper was just a reminder of that.
The first slug appeared late in the evening. She'd just finished watching America's Got Talent and went to check the doors and windows before heading to bed for the night. When she turned on the porch light, she saw a huge shadow on the screen door. About 4 inches long, it had worked the front half of its body through the screen and left a slimy mark on the front door where it had touched against it. A shiver ran through her spine, she had always hated creepy crawlies. From the kitchen, she fetched the salt shaker, and watched the slug shudder and shrivel as she sprinkled it liberally with the salt. She shut the front door and turned the porch light off, leaving the clean up of the carcass for the morning.
Mornings always came quickly. Years of getting up early to catch the bus into work had ingrained time within her, and she never slept past 6:00. Besides, such luxuries as sleeping in were the beginning of many people's downfall. Lazy folks whiled time away on nothingness, and sloth could overtake the weak of will. She got up every morning and walked for exactly two miles, then returned for a breakfast of oatmeal and two cups of black coffee. Her routine never varied, nor did she want it to.
This morning, she opened the door for her walk expecting to see the soggy remains of the nasty slug. However when she looked on the screen door, there was no evidence at all of the previous evening's visitor. The salt had done it's job. As she walked that morning, she found her mind wandering. Did she need to buy slug killer? Where had it come from? Never once did it occur to her to ask why it had come.
Her day passed as usual. Crossword puzzles, true life crime novels and a few of her shows. Once the phone rang, the local Lions Club inviting residents to their annual pancake breakfast and fundraiser. The overly friendly lady on the phone had tried to convince her they did good work for local charities, people needing a hand up. It was hard for her to hide her contempt. Charities weren't something to encourage. If people couldn't take care of themselves there were natural consequences. And one could only hope such people didn't reproduce, although it was usually just that sort that bred without restraint.
As she watched her shows that evening, she felt a sense of uneasiness. She ran through her list of chores and routines, everything had been done for the day. She laughed heartily, alone in her living room, as people got voted off islands and stages and kicked off shows, despite crying and pleading. In her mind it wasn't that she enjoyed the suffering of others, she was only a realist who found the reality of sorting the wheat from the chaff refreshing.
The sense of forboding grew stronger through the evening. It didn't make sense, and the lack of a rational excuse made it worse. Finally, she turned off the television, prepared her coffee for the morning, shut the shades and checked the porch. Even in the shadows beyond the reach of the lightbulb, she saw them. Parts of the boards looked warped or even alive as the shadows revealed the different colors where the slugs had stopped in the circle of light. The surprise of it all caused her to exclaim with an audible "oh!" and she stepped backward into the hallway before hurrying into the kitchen for the can of salt.
All together she killed 23 slugs that night. None were on the screen door, although she found several on the house itself, one almost as high as the kitchen window. She sprinkled each one, barely able to avoid stepping on the dying bodies or the nasty slime trails each had taken to their final destination. She debated getting the sprinkler and washing them away tonight, but couldn't deny that she felt pretty discombobulated by the whole experience, and going around the house in the dark to find the hose would be just too much.
She had trouble sleeping that night. Both the memory of the slugs and fear of more made her heart beat hard in her chest. Perhaps more unsettling was her annoyance with her own reaction. They were simply slugs for god's sake, reacting to moisture and weather. Her fear was irrational, as was her sense that somehow she was under attack. Wild imaginations never led to anything except irresponsible behaviors, ridiculous unrealistic dreams, and avoiding the realities of daily life. These were just slugs, and a healthy dose of slug killer around the house would keep them from returning.
In the morning, she didn't even start her coffee before peering out onto the porch. She opened the door wide to confirm her conclusion. The porch was quiet and clean. No semblance of the previous night's carnage remained, not even faint trails in the morning dew which had settled on the decking. She didn't walk that morning, but ate her breakfast at the table in silence, ticking away the time until the hardware store opened.
She walked into Peterson's Supply with confidence, although she always felt a bit out of place entering this world of men who built things, and homeowners who seemed to enjoy spending time and money fixing up gardens and fancying their bathrooms. She spent a few minutes looking for gardening supplies before breaking down and asking an employee where the slug repellent might be.
"You having trouble with slugs? I had one in my tomato plant last week, ate the bottom leaves clean off. " The friendly young man seemed comfortable with this meaningless banter. "If you've got a lot of flowers they seem to be drawn to 'em this year."
"I don't have flowers," she said curtly. "I just need something to repel slugs."
The clerk seemed to read her lack of interest in chatting, and handed her a big yellow can. "This works best," he said, "don't be stingy with it. It will keep 'em away for a good while usually."
She took the can, paid for it and headed back to her home. The entire can was liberally spread around the deck and front of the trailer. She made sure to get in between the boards, and the small space between the deck and the house. Afterwards she went and took a shower, washing away both the chemical and the feeling of seeing the slugs the evening before. Her shower took longer than usual as she scrubbed and scrubbed in her attempt to feel clean.
After making a simple lunch and turning on the television she settled down into her chair and picked up a crossword puzzle. Although she never napped, she found herself drifting in and out, images of slugs troubling her even in sleep. She checked the porch several times throughout the day, comforted to see nothing out of the ordinary. No bugs, no slugs.
Her evening progressed per usual. She felt better this evening knowing she had dealt with the nasty slugs and thankful for the science of chemicals. She wondered if she had some sort of vegetation growing under the deck which attracted them, and resolved to check it out at some point.
Her shows finished. She put on her nightgown, brushed her teeth and went to shut all the windows. She felt good this evening, knowing that the uneasy feelings and her fear of the slugs had been dealt with. As her final chore before bed, she opened the front door for a check of the porch, feeling for the first time in two days like all was well.
The slug at eye level seemed to be looking straight at her, but somehow she looked past it to see the deck. There was a sense of movement, yet the porch looked like it was covered with a thick dark oil. She could see them climbing towards the windows, and they covered the bottom of the screen door, pushing their boneless bodies through in meshing in determination to reach her home. As she watched, several more seemed to make it, and two feel onto her feet at the threshold. She took a step back as slugs began to rain down on the deck and into her doorway, making sickening small thumps as they landed.
After several days the neighbors found her. There was no sign of foul play.
The first slug appeared late in the evening. She'd just finished watching America's Got Talent and went to check the doors and windows before heading to bed for the night. When she turned on the porch light, she saw a huge shadow on the screen door. About 4 inches long, it had worked the front half of its body through the screen and left a slimy mark on the front door where it had touched against it. A shiver ran through her spine, she had always hated creepy crawlies. From the kitchen, she fetched the salt shaker, and watched the slug shudder and shrivel as she sprinkled it liberally with the salt. She shut the front door and turned the porch light off, leaving the clean up of the carcass for the morning.
Mornings always came quickly. Years of getting up early to catch the bus into work had ingrained time within her, and she never slept past 6:00. Besides, such luxuries as sleeping in were the beginning of many people's downfall. Lazy folks whiled time away on nothingness, and sloth could overtake the weak of will. She got up every morning and walked for exactly two miles, then returned for a breakfast of oatmeal and two cups of black coffee. Her routine never varied, nor did she want it to.
This morning, she opened the door for her walk expecting to see the soggy remains of the nasty slug. However when she looked on the screen door, there was no evidence at all of the previous evening's visitor. The salt had done it's job. As she walked that morning, she found her mind wandering. Did she need to buy slug killer? Where had it come from? Never once did it occur to her to ask why it had come.
Her day passed as usual. Crossword puzzles, true life crime novels and a few of her shows. Once the phone rang, the local Lions Club inviting residents to their annual pancake breakfast and fundraiser. The overly friendly lady on the phone had tried to convince her they did good work for local charities, people needing a hand up. It was hard for her to hide her contempt. Charities weren't something to encourage. If people couldn't take care of themselves there were natural consequences. And one could only hope such people didn't reproduce, although it was usually just that sort that bred without restraint.
As she watched her shows that evening, she felt a sense of uneasiness. She ran through her list of chores and routines, everything had been done for the day. She laughed heartily, alone in her living room, as people got voted off islands and stages and kicked off shows, despite crying and pleading. In her mind it wasn't that she enjoyed the suffering of others, she was only a realist who found the reality of sorting the wheat from the chaff refreshing.
The sense of forboding grew stronger through the evening. It didn't make sense, and the lack of a rational excuse made it worse. Finally, she turned off the television, prepared her coffee for the morning, shut the shades and checked the porch. Even in the shadows beyond the reach of the lightbulb, she saw them. Parts of the boards looked warped or even alive as the shadows revealed the different colors where the slugs had stopped in the circle of light. The surprise of it all caused her to exclaim with an audible "oh!" and she stepped backward into the hallway before hurrying into the kitchen for the can of salt.
All together she killed 23 slugs that night. None were on the screen door, although she found several on the house itself, one almost as high as the kitchen window. She sprinkled each one, barely able to avoid stepping on the dying bodies or the nasty slime trails each had taken to their final destination. She debated getting the sprinkler and washing them away tonight, but couldn't deny that she felt pretty discombobulated by the whole experience, and going around the house in the dark to find the hose would be just too much.
She had trouble sleeping that night. Both the memory of the slugs and fear of more made her heart beat hard in her chest. Perhaps more unsettling was her annoyance with her own reaction. They were simply slugs for god's sake, reacting to moisture and weather. Her fear was irrational, as was her sense that somehow she was under attack. Wild imaginations never led to anything except irresponsible behaviors, ridiculous unrealistic dreams, and avoiding the realities of daily life. These were just slugs, and a healthy dose of slug killer around the house would keep them from returning.
In the morning, she didn't even start her coffee before peering out onto the porch. She opened the door wide to confirm her conclusion. The porch was quiet and clean. No semblance of the previous night's carnage remained, not even faint trails in the morning dew which had settled on the decking. She didn't walk that morning, but ate her breakfast at the table in silence, ticking away the time until the hardware store opened.
She walked into Peterson's Supply with confidence, although she always felt a bit out of place entering this world of men who built things, and homeowners who seemed to enjoy spending time and money fixing up gardens and fancying their bathrooms. She spent a few minutes looking for gardening supplies before breaking down and asking an employee where the slug repellent might be.
"You having trouble with slugs? I had one in my tomato plant last week, ate the bottom leaves clean off. " The friendly young man seemed comfortable with this meaningless banter. "If you've got a lot of flowers they seem to be drawn to 'em this year."
"I don't have flowers," she said curtly. "I just need something to repel slugs."
The clerk seemed to read her lack of interest in chatting, and handed her a big yellow can. "This works best," he said, "don't be stingy with it. It will keep 'em away for a good while usually."
She took the can, paid for it and headed back to her home. The entire can was liberally spread around the deck and front of the trailer. She made sure to get in between the boards, and the small space between the deck and the house. Afterwards she went and took a shower, washing away both the chemical and the feeling of seeing the slugs the evening before. Her shower took longer than usual as she scrubbed and scrubbed in her attempt to feel clean.
After making a simple lunch and turning on the television she settled down into her chair and picked up a crossword puzzle. Although she never napped, she found herself drifting in and out, images of slugs troubling her even in sleep. She checked the porch several times throughout the day, comforted to see nothing out of the ordinary. No bugs, no slugs.
Her evening progressed per usual. She felt better this evening knowing she had dealt with the nasty slugs and thankful for the science of chemicals. She wondered if she had some sort of vegetation growing under the deck which attracted them, and resolved to check it out at some point.
Her shows finished. She put on her nightgown, brushed her teeth and went to shut all the windows. She felt good this evening, knowing that the uneasy feelings and her fear of the slugs had been dealt with. As her final chore before bed, she opened the front door for a check of the porch, feeling for the first time in two days like all was well.
The slug at eye level seemed to be looking straight at her, but somehow she looked past it to see the deck. There was a sense of movement, yet the porch looked like it was covered with a thick dark oil. She could see them climbing towards the windows, and they covered the bottom of the screen door, pushing their boneless bodies through in meshing in determination to reach her home. As she watched, several more seemed to make it, and two feel onto her feet at the threshold. She took a step back as slugs began to rain down on the deck and into her doorway, making sickening small thumps as they landed.
After several days the neighbors found her. There was no sign of foul play.
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