After: A Scene in 500 Words

I originally wrote this a few years ago and recently brushed it off and gave it a polish.

She sat in the shade of the big live oak tree, trimming her fingernails. The clippers made a soft snick! snick! as each shard fell into the grass. The live oak grew in the middle of a large flat field and had undoubtedly been growing there for a century or more. It had seen a lot over the years and the past eight months had been particularly eventful.

A sturdy barbwire fence enclosed the field. That fence had been built to contain livestock of the bovine or equine variety. But no horses or cows were to be seen. On one side of the field the fence had large hole. One of the posts lay upended on the grass surrounded by a tangle of wire. A raw rut of freshly turned earth scarred the field but whatever had done the damage was no where to be seen. She doubted that the cows or horses that used to live in the field had escaped.

She sat facing the hole in the fence as she went about her work, cutting each nail brutally short. Once, months ago, her nails had been long and manicured, always polished and perfect, cuticles trimmed, skin moisturized. She still kept her hands clean but her skin had dried and a series of scrapes and abrasions covered her knuckles.

Every minute or so she glanced up at that break in the fence. Nothing stirred in the mid afternoon heat except the dust motes dancing in the dappled sunshine across her knees and the tall grass waving lazily in the breeze.

She thought longingly of taking a short nap in the warm sunshine, surrounded by the sweet smell of hay and the energetic sound of cicadas. But that hole made her nervous.

Finished with her task, she placed the nail clippers back into the top pouch of a medium sized backpack that leaned against the tree next to her. The pouch also contained a razor with extra blades, tampons, tweezers, medical tape, antibiotic ointment, and bandages. She zipped it carefully closed and double checked it. Supplies had become scarce.

She leaned back against the tree. She liked this spot with its visibility in every direction. The untended grass grew tall and she felt hidden in the shade. The road, a narrow country blacktop, blazed in the strong light and she clearly saw that nothing stirred anywhere close. It was safer now to sleep during the day and stay up all night. But she didn’t sleep much at all anymore.

She tugged the backpack closer and made a pillow, staying mostly upright so that the road would be the first thing she saw upon opening her eyes. The bugs of summer hummed around her. She felt safe. She allowed her eyes to close.

Her breathing gradually deepened, her lips parting in sleep. The sun shone down. The grass ruffled in the warm breeze. The cicadas droned.

Far away down the road, where a bend went into the trees, a shadow moved.