Sunflower Crossroads: part two of the middle

chapter will be named when the other before it are worked out 1

I walked out to get the mail. The round rocks of the driveway, crunched under my steps, with a slight pressure against my bare-feet. The weight of the baby was causing my ankles to swell. I spent most of the time with them up.2

The sun was very bright, reflecting off the chrome of my Voyager and the domed mailbox. But the sky was a faded blue of an old, comfortable shirt, that had seen the wash too many times. Lazy cottony clouds floated aimlessly above the treeline.3

The sunlight was the opposite to the weather. There was a deep chill in the air and I pulled my woven sweater close to my chin. The leaves of the adjorning sunflowers fields were painted a shimmering silver. Steam rose like phantoms, where the sun kissed the frosty ground.4

It was breathtaking. The muted colors of the former summer mixed with the natural colors of autumn. Winter had not visited, December 21st was only three days away.5

The box was near the signpost and I glanced at it nervously. I was afraid I would wetness the strange lights I'd seen two nights ago. It was ridiculous to be scared in the light of day. A small shiver traveled the length of my spine.6

Right off I noticed sunflowers leaning against the post. It's viney companion burred under the palm sized leaves. The head bending down as if ashamed to be caught here by me.7

I picked up my pace, by passing the mailbox. The course, coolness of the pea gravel turned to the silky softness of packed dirt. The sun hadn't thawed the ground so I didn't have to pay much attention to where I was stepping.8

The baby kicked hard in my side, as if he or she didn't like where I was going.9

As I neared I noticed the baskets. Fresh vegetables and grain sat in the bowls along with stalks of corn and the sunflowers that had first caught my eye.10

It looked like a scene from a school's harvest carnival, a scripted scene. But then I noticed the dark brown splotches sprayed across the crops at knee height.11

A smooth stone lay in front of the baskets. It was white with darkened grooves threading through the surface. I extended my hand, as I knelt by it.12

Cautiously, I stroked the harden stone, the slashes caressed my fingers giving me a macabre map. When I pulled my fingers away, they had a crimson stain upon them. I rubbed my index and middle finger with my thumb, as if testing the strength of the liquid.13

I then sniffed it. How could I not? If it was what I felt it was, it would smell as predicted. It did. It was coppery with a faint trace of earth and manure. Blood.14

"What on Earth?" I muttered to myself.15

"Animal," came a gravelly voice behind me.16

I quickly I stood up and wobbled. A strong hand steadied me. The pressure on my upper arm burned through my light sweater,17

"Careful there," the stranger said, as he dropped his arm.18

I blinked as I regained my footing. "T-thank you, " I stuttered. "I'm sorry, you frightened me."19

The stranger tipped his bowler hat. It was strange. I hadn't seen one since my father passed three years earlier. I instantly felt calmer, safer. Anyone who wore a familiar bowler was to be trusted, right? I asked myself.20

"Sorry, about that. I was just walking up the road, when I noticed you here." He motioned towards the smooth stone. "The red marks are from a knife and animal blood."21

I glanced over my shoulder at the ground. then back to the tall stranger. His dark trench-coat flapped in the sudden wind. Below he wore black jeans and sturdy boots with silver buckles.22

"Animal?"23

His scarred hands hung at his sides, clenching and unclenching. I wondered if he loathed the inaction he was forced to do right now.24

"Yes, blood, animal blood. They sacrificed an animal for this ritual." He cleared his throat and ran a thick hand through his wheat blond hair. I didn't think he did it to smooth it down or to tame it. It was done without thought, a way to distract those around him.25

I put a hand at my throat, I asked, "Here? They sacrificed an animal here?"26

He shook his head, strands of hair brushed his board shoulders. "No, the carcass would still be here if they had. It looks like they brought the blood here." He walked to the side of her and knelt at the stone. "The altar is without new knife marks. In my opinion they killed the beast before coming, as to not alert you or your husband."27

I was shaking. The stranger knew much. I wondered if he could answer my questions.28

But was he to be trusted?29