 A Story... The waves crashed against the cliffs with the type of rhythmic veracity that you see in the movies. You chould actually see the tiny particles of sand being washed away with the waves if you used your imagination. The house was set not too far from the cliffs in its own little nook in the rock, a long-dead tree in the front yard-- swaying with the wind and creaking like an old door spring. The lighthouse beamed its bright light in both directions, bright even in the middle of the day. It warned the coming ships of the dark rocks sleeping dangerously close to the water's surface. The smell of burning leaves and the scent of fall wafted across the air, beckoning the cold air to mix in a whipping dance with the warm air from the sea. Clouds were forming out at sea, a wall of cotton-like warning that the rain was coming in.
Sherry sat on the front porch of the old home, reading her book. She gathered her scarf and coat closer to her body as the cool wind whipped by, fluttering the pages of the book that she was reading. It became increasingly harder to read the book as the winds whipped up around her. The leaves caressed her legs and arms as they jumped the steps and flew into the air, taking the small paint chips from the aged steps with them. The house let out a short sigh as the wind pushed against it, like an older person might sigh as they worked their tired body down a long hallway. Sherry looked up from her book and out to the sea as the wind pushed her hair from behind and over her eyes, making her look like a slender sheep dog.
She closed her book, prestidigitating the bookmark quickly into place as the book closed, with one quick movement. It was almost as she had practiced the maneuver... or had done it a million times before. Sherry got up and walked towards the cliff, the dry leaves crunching under her feet. As she approached the edge of the cliff, the waves greeted her like an old friend, crashing and mixing upon the rocks. The mist climbed the cliff and into her face, salty in her nose, cool on her skin. She held her hand up to her eyes and looked out to sea as the sun reflected off of the water. There were strangely no boats on the water today.
"Must be in ahead of the storm," she quipped to herself, as she pulled her coat in closer and folded her arms.
She watched for a little while longer and finally sighed relaxation. She dropped her arms to her side and turned-- and ran smack into an old man. The old man was wearing a long black coat, with several large, round black buttons holding it closed and sheer to his body. His gray hair wisped in the wind below the black fedora he wore, a throwback from the last century.
"Storm's comin' in," he said politely and tipped his cap.
"Yes, it appears so," Sherry returned with a quizzical look on her face.
The man stepped back from Sherry's personal space and held out his hand, "Sam Johnston, ma'am," he said with a smile and continued, "I just bought the next house to the North of here."
"Oh, my, yes!", Sherry said with a sudden gleam of recognition, "we've heard you were coming, but just didn't know when.... I had actually forgotten all about it," she said with an embarrassing grin, and swept the stray hairs from her face. She shook his hand and crossed her arms again.
Sam rocked on his heels a bit before continuing, "No boats on the water today....ma'am?"
"I'm so rude!", Sherry said with a laugh, "I'm Sherry. Sherry Dowell."
"Nice to meet you, Sherry," Sam said.
"No... the boaters and fishermen around here seem to know more than many of our top-paid meteorologists.... they're never on the water when a storm is coming in... better than a barometer," Sherry said to Sam.
"It was nice to meet you, Sherry," Sam stood at attention. Years of military training became quickly evident, "I shall see you again soon!"
Sam crunched his way quickly across the yard. The short conversation struck Sherry as a bit odd. It was good to meet the rugged old man, but their conversation wasn't very productive. She watched him with interest as he strode away and back on to the street, north to his new home. Sherry clutched the book under her arm and walked slowly towards her home. In the background, she could hear distant thunder. The storm would be there soon.
To be continued...
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You hooked me.