Living driftwood
Page 2
We arrived at home early the next morning AM-ish. By this time we had calmed considerably from our harrowing camping experience and wondered how much of it we concocted ourselves. After unloading the gear from the car we let the cats out in their out-door run, 3 frisky Bengal’s, spoiled as all get out.
I had brought back a prize walking stick and 2 pieces of driftwood collected from the bank of the lake. These were left on the porch along with a wet rain tarp.
Even though the sun was
peeking over the horizon we were exhausted and both took napping positions on
the couch…
“Rrreeeeoooooowww”…. My eyelids fluttered.
“Hiisssssssss, rrrreeeooooow!” I awoke to my wife shaking my shoulder. “Hiss!”
“What’s wrong girl?” I asked groggily. “Something’s wrong with the boys”, she whispered. She stood up and walked to the window. I was in mid-yawn when I heard her startled gasp.
“Oh m m my g g god” she stammered. I launched myself up and jumped over the coffee table and nearly tripped upon landing. I opened the door into the porch and looked to the kitty run. All three cats were flattened out in the grass next to the fence looking at the porch with ears fully laid back in aggression mode.
“What the …” I began to say, looking at what had panicked them. The larger piece of driftwood was slowly wobbling back and forth, seemingly on its own. I unconsciously staggered closer to get a better look.
The wood was alive with
doll-sized bodies. I dropped to one knee, the breath knocked from my sanity. In
concert they turned to me and spoke…
“R E T U R N U S !”