An excerpt from The High Grass. My solo project, still in progress. Comments and feedback are welcome!

 Jimmy stood on the hill overlooking the pasture between him and the farm. He was on his way home from fishing in the creek and he was probably going to be late for supper. The pasture was nearly five-hundred yards wide and about two-hundred yards across. If he went around, as he was inclined to do, it would take him an hour to reach the back door of his house and the relative safety of the kitchen. If he went across, it would take about twenty minutes; he would be home in time for supper and his father would be less likely to color his backside.

 The trouble with going across was that Jimmy was afraid. He could never quite put a finger on what scared him so badly about the field, but something was out there. And it wanted him. Of that he had no doubt. He had spent the better part of the summer going around the field to reach his favorite fishing spot in the low hills behind the farm. It extended his journey, but he didn't care. The thing in the grass was not going to get him, not if he could help it.

 As he stood there at the crest of the hill with his fishing pole in one hand and the battered old creel in the other, he could feel the thing looking at him. He wanted to get home quickly, not only to avoid getting his hide tanned. He wanted to be out of the thing’s sight. He felt like a jack rabbit that had been spotted by a coyote.

 He took a few steps down the trail that cut across the face of the hill. He thought of his mother, standing over the stove frying chicken and mashing potatoes. Checking the clock hanging over the back door. She always worried about Jimmy, even when he was upstairs in his room. If he was out fishing or visiting Sara, his girl, she was likely to have a stroke if he was late.

She would be getting ready to set the table, which gave Jimmy about fifteen minutes to get home. Nothing for it, he would have to cross the field. It would get him or it wouldn’t, but standing there on the hill was not solving anything.

 When he looked to see where he was, he found that he had come more than halfway down the hill. This was good news of a sort, it would take him only about ten minutes from here. It didn’t make him feel any better though. He had made up his mind to cross the high grass and he wasn’t about to change it.

Jimmy looked at the board fence thirty feet in front of him and took a deep breath. As he started toward it, he could feel the sweat sliding down his back and trickling out of his armpits. He would need a shower before supper.

 Something moved off to his left and he jumped as if he had been poked with a stick. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a jack rabbit hopping off up the hill.

 “Calm yourself, Jimmy boy,” he said aloud.

 A breeze blew over him, sending goose bumps racing up and down his body and making his hair stand up on his head. His t-shirt clung to him unpleasantly and he could smell the reek of adrenaline in his sweat. He would definitely need a shower.

 As he walked slowly toward the fence, he became aware of a pressure in his middle. He needed to pee.

 “Won’t do any good to piss myself halfway across,” he said to himself.

 He stopped and undid his fly, pulled out his peter and watered the grass. Feeling better about that at least, he started back toward the fence. The grass was well over his head; he couldn’t see a foot beyond the fence. Something moved about twenty yards inside the field straight ahead of him. He heard a sort of warbling chuckle coming from the same direction. That was no jack rabbit.

 Jimmy was really scared now. The thing knew he was there, it was waiting for him to come into the field so it could get him. The sun was getting low on the horizon behind him, his shadow stood in front of him, wavering on the grass.

 Suddenly, he heard that chuckling again and the swishing sound of the grass as the thing moved off to the north. The sound faded until all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

He stood there listening, but nothing else seemed to move, except the grass waving in the wind. Jimmy took a deep breath, grabbed the top rail of the fence and stepped up on the bottom rail. He stayed that way for a full minute, listening; ready to jump down and haul ass.

Still nothing moved. He hoisted himself up and put his right foot on the top rail; he stopped there, his knee by his jaw. He was about to jump down and run for it when he heard that odd chuckling sound coming from behind him.

 “Great,” he said under his breath.

 He hauled himself the rest of the way over the fence and ran for all he was worth. He could hear something following him, but was too scared to turn around. The grass whipped his face as he tore across the field. Sweat ran down his forehead and got in his eyes, but he kept running.

 He could hear nothing but his sneakers pounding the earth and his heart pounding his ribcage. Just as he was getting close to the fence at the other side of the field, he felt something brush against his back. It felt like a hand, only bigger. He really poured on the steam, racing toward the fence. If he could get across the fence, he would be safe. It wouldn’t cross the fence. The hand grabbed at him again, this time ripping his t-shirt.

He could see the fence now, drawing closer as he tore through the field. Then it was right in front of him.  Without missing a step, he jumped. He grabbed the top rail and swung both legs over; he landed on the other side and crossed the yard to the back door.

 He could feel the thing watching him, feel it pulling back into the field. He slumped forward against the door, resting his head against the window. He stayed that way until his heart slowed to a reasonable pace, then turned the knob and went in.

 He was greeted by the smell of fried chicken mixed with the yeasty aroma of biscuits still baking in the oven.

His mom was setting the table for supper. She had just set the giant blue bowl she always used for mashed potatoes on the table. She looked over her shoulder when she heard the door.

 “Hi mom,” he said.

 “Hey, just in time for supper,” she called. She turned to go back into the kitchen but stopped when she saw him. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat and his face was a pale as a lilly. She frowned when she saw the rip in his shirt. Jimmy gave her his best grin to ease her mind.

 “I fell asleep by the fishing hole, had to run most of the way,” he said sheepishly. The story was not entirely untrue, but it felt like a lie.

  “Well, you should pay more attention to the time,” she said sternly. “Go on upstairs and get a shower, your father won’t be home for a bit.”

 It was after six. Normally his dad was home by now.

 “He working late?” Jimmy asked.

 “Yes, he called a little while ago,” she told him. “There was a fender bender out on the Highway. He should be here in a half hour or so.”

 “Oh, ok,” Jimmy said. He usually didn’t worry about his dad, but he was unusually jumpy today, considering. Besides, you never know what’s going to happen when you’re a deputy sheriff.

 Jimmy told his mom he would be down in a bit and headed for the stairs. When he got to his room, he peeled off his t-shirt and dropped it by his bed. Then he headed down the hall to the bathroom. Once there, he pulled off his jeans and underwear and turned on the shower. He looked in the mirror while he waited for the water to get hot. It took a few minutes sometimes.

 His sandy bangs stuck to his forehead. His eyes were red from the pollen and dust in the field. He could feel the sweat drying on his skin, covering him with a salty film that cracked when he moved.

 He stuck a hand under the water to test the temperature and found it warm enough, so he swung a leg over and stepped in, closing the curtain in the same motion. He stood there with the water running over him, feeling the pleasant sting on his neck. He scrubbed his hands through his hair to get the sweat out, then grabbed the bar of Irish Spring from the soap tray and rolled it in his hands. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the lather; he wondered if Ireland really smelled like that in the spring.

 He chuckled at himself as he spread the lather over his arms and across his chest. It turned brown almost instanttly. He really did need a shower. He worked the lather down his legs and scrubbed his crack thoroughly. He had a serious case of mud-butt when he got home.

 As he was soaping his groin he thought about his girl. His pecker twitched under his hand as he thought about her flat belly and the way her jeans held her butt. She had a great butt. He turned around and rinsed off, if he thought too much along those lines this would not be a quick shower.

 He grabbed the shampoo and and squeezed some into his hand. He rubbed it into his hair, scrubbing his scalp as he did. As he rubbed the suds around his head, he thought about going to see his girl, Sara after supper. It was still summer and he didn’t have to get up until eight thirty.

 He would ask his dad after they ate. His dad would usually let him go out in the evenings, unless he had something for Jimmy to do around the house.

 Yea, he would go and see Sara. Maybe he’d kiss her this time. She almost let him the last time he saw her.  Would have too if her mom hadn’t come around the corner. Either way he would be walking home with a boner. He didn’t care though. Sara was worth it.