The following are the first few bits of a story I am working on. Any thoughts?
There was truly no cause for the trepidation that filled Danielle when she knocked on the door to welcome her new neighbors. The house at the end of her lane had been empty for so many months, and it would be nice to occasionally see other people out and about. For the most part, she only saw the creatures that made the woodland surrounding the area their domain.
And oh, such creatures they were. Deer, opossum, coyote, raccoon, groundhogs, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks ... Most likely there were others she had not seen or heard. There had been rumors of bear, and she was sure there were bats in the night though she had not seen them. Owls often could be heard and seen, seeking out their prey, and the variety of birds made their little bit of paradise a frequent destination for birders doing the annual Audubon Society count.
In addition to the birdseed, salt blocks, and suet she routinely invested in, Danielle had taken to leaving her food scraps and leftovers at the edge of the woods, feeding the critters she called it. Actually, that particular habit of hers had been the genesis for her recent and somewhat uncharacteristic feelings of unease about her current living conditions.
She had enjoyed her hermitage at the end of a paved, albeit one lane road. Hers was one of only five houses, each which boasted the type of privacy the burnt out and creative craved as intensely as the pioneers who settled this area had craved community and neighbors in the eighteenth century.
There was truly no cause for the trepidation that filled Danielle when she knocked on the door to welcome her new neighbors. The house at the end of her lane had been empty for so many months, and it would be nice to occasionally see other people out and about. For the most part, she only saw the creatures that made the woodland surrounding the area their domain.
In addition to the birdseed, salt blocks, and suet she routinely invested in, Danielle had taken to leaving her food scraps and leftovers at the edge of the woods, feeding the critters she called it. Actually, that particular habit of hers had been the genesis for her recent and somewhat uncharacteristic feelings of unease about her current living conditions.
She had enjoyed her hermitage at the end of a paved, albeit one lane road. Hers was one of only five houses, each which boasted the type of privacy the burnt out and creative craved as intensely as the pioneers who settled this area had craved community and neighbors in the eighteenth century.
I am looking forward to reading more. How well I can understand her feeling. Loving her quiet isolation, not sure what changes will come, good or bad?
ReplyDeletelooking forward to hear more
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