The Sound of Tree Frogs
The credits began to play on the television screen. The black and white floor model clicked off and Jim stretched his thirty-year-old legs and set aside the pillow he was clutching onto. “Sounds like a flyin’ saucer outside, Daddy.”
“That ain’t no flyin’ saucer, them’s tree frogs.”
“It sounds just like the flyin’ saucers on the TV though. The sky’s all lit up too.”
Roger peered out the window, but saw nothing. “It’s probably just heat lightnin’. If you can’t handle watchin’ these old spook movies, I’m goin’ to stop lettin’ you watch them.”
“I ain’t scared.” Jim swallowed hard and looked at another flash outside the window.
Roger saw the fear on Jim’s childlike face. “Alright, alright. I’m goin’ out on the porch. I’ll prove to you that there ain’t nothin’ out there.”
He pushed open the screeching aluminum door and stepped out on the porch. “See, it ain’t nothin’ but tree frogs!”
A bright flash disintegrated Roger. An intense wave of heat rushed through the trailer.
Then the sound of the tree frogs dissipated and the flashing lights faded into the night air.
Very nice, Brian. My mother didn’t actually stop me from watching Dr. Who, Tales of Mystery and Imagination or Twizzle… she just had something worked out for me to do that nobody else could do half so well :) That’s how I learned to cook!
Comment by Oonah V Joslin — April 3, 2009 @ 6:47 pm