On-Hand Off-Grid, Part One_Deer Season_We All Heed Her Piercing Cry_CRIME AT THE WINDOW
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On-Hand Off-Grid, Part One
Jerome had enough. After five long decades of working the industries, watching technology take over almost every aspect of a laborer's life, he felt that now was the time to retire and live out the remainder of his days in analogical solitude.Now, Jerome wasn't against technology. Far from it; he would get any electronic device to utilize in his life, whether it was contacting old friends or fixing up his vehicle. Cell phones, computers, laptops, pads and pods, electronic music players, and battery-powered tools were brought into his home over the years, and these things were, admittedly, ben...
Deer Season
Deer SeasonBy Jim HolleyMichael was kneeling motionless behind the fallen tree, only his eyeswww.onedoor.cc moving. He was holding his Dad's Remington 30-06-caliber rifle with a mounted scope. The firearm, over 40 years old, would easily pass for new. Michael was perfectly camouflaged and he blended totally with his surroundings.His dad had taught him everything about surviving in the wilderness. Often, his mother chastised him for training their son so rigorously. "He's not an Army Ranger," she would say.Michael's dad instructed him in all skills he learned while in the service and Michael had learned the...
We All Heed Her Piercing Cry
(This story talks about death.)It was the 3rd of October, late in the afternoon, and there she was again. That old woman. She walked with a slight limp but looked otherwise strong. She came by the apartment complex once a month. Not always on a particular day of the month. It could be either on the 5th, the 16th, or the 30th. But it was always ever once a month. And she never skipped. Not for the past year that Tyler had been keeping an eye out for her anyway.He observed her through his kitchen window from the third floor. She was ambling along the sidewalk. She stopped suddenly, took out a sm...
CRIME AT THE WINDOW
CRIME AT THE WINDOW The window, on the back of her house, overlooked the garden of the Cecchi, her neighbors. Beyond the garden they stood, the high, massive, squared buildings, recently built, that included hundreds of apartments. It was an almost dark night, there was only a thin crescent moon in the cloudy sky. Angry meows , which seemed to her, who was standing at the open window, coming from the garden of her neighbors who, however, didn’t have cats. She tried to sharpen her eyes, but she was able only to see more or less dark and indistinct areas in the garden on which the window ope...