1000 word excerpt from Another New Years Eve: Our community is small and has very few streetlights. But then there are very few streets. And, as Ive explained, dense woods surround each house. Even in the front, most of the foliage is so thick you cant see much going on beyond the immediate yard area, day or night, unless you trudge up the long driveway from the street.
A light blooms wherever streets intersect, and in precious few other places. Its fair to say most nights are pitch black. And country quiet. The occasional rumble of traffic a few miles away on Interstate 95 is not a disturbance. Rather, its sort of a comfort, reminding us that we are, after all, in touch with civilization.
Tree frogs keep a good conversation going on through the night. Stars burst from the ebony sky and glitter beautifully with no city lights to diffuse them. A night boasting a full moon is a splendor. Quite different from what we were used to.
Five months into the transition, the New Year seemed to sneak up on us. With gleaming stemware positioned on the table in front of the sofa, we clicked on the TV to Mister New Year: Dick Clark, and uncorked the bottle, settling in for the countdown a half an hour away. A light rain was falling on Times Square as the temperature lingered at thirty-three degrees, but the happily wild crowd ignored it. We sat in the warmth of our home, smug because the exterior temperature here was now near sixty at midnight. Mellowed by the earlier cocktails and the later champagne, we had a little glow going on.
THE moment was a breath away. A radiant Dick Clark led the crowd in counting off the seconds: nine, eight, seventhe ball was dropping. Two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Delirium reigned! Ecstatic faces. Waving arms. Many sets of glazed eyes peered out at us from the TV screen. Dancing in the streets. Cheering. Bells clanging. Noisemakers squawking. Auld Lang Syne. The New Year had officially arrived. Kisses, hugs and confetti freely dispensed.
Clicking off the remote control, we hurried out to the street, but could see nothing save a few muted driveway lights in the distance. Somewhere in the neighborhood, we could hear rejoicing and private parties shooting fireworks.
We stood in the inky night till the sound of the last spurt fizzled out. Turning, we ambled along holding hands, enjoying the crisp air and the sprinkling of stars in the calm black sky.
Isnt this peaceful? I said.
Yeah, he answered. You know, were lucky.
A dog barked somewhere. All else was quiet.
The night air was cooling. I was chilly so I released his hand and walked ahead to the house. He, not minding the drop in temperature, trailed behind.
At that moment, a burst of rustling branches in the woods to my left made my feet freeze to the concrete. In the darkness, I could see nothing, but I could hear plenty. Obviously, something very powerful was shoving aside sections of shrubbery, one after the other, ripping them apart trying to create an opening large enough to get into our yard. I imagined huge legs stomping the brush, maybe a muscular tail flailing, possibly caught up in some of the hanging vines. Some of those vines are as big around as my arm. They would only intensify its determination as legs/arms/clawed feet? became tangled while plowing through the wooded area. A trail of flattened foliage would be left in its wake if it got to the clearing. To do what? Omigod!
I remained on the spot for only a second, absurdly, recalling a recent article about the sighting of a Florida panther just a few miles away. Terrified, I bolted for the door, calling for Tom to follow. My legs felt like they were sinking in quicksand. Beads of sweat erupted on my forehead. I expected that at any moment the monstrous animal would emerge and attack, tearing us to shredded, bloody, unidentifiable masses of flesh before we could make it to the door. My brain-to-foot coordination was muddled. Everything I did seemed to be in slow motion. Screaming for help never occurred to me. The snap and crack of breaking branches and bushes bending and twisting under heavy weight was overwhelming.
I stuttered out another call to hurry Tom, hoping we could get into the house before it was too late. He didnt seem to share my urgency, but he did hasten his step. We managed to get to the door nearly in unison, threw it open and slammed it shut behind us. Both of us were out of breath, and I was trembling.
Standing in the tiled foyer, ears pressed against the doors painted wood surface, we listened. And listened. And listened. The violent rustling and cracking were still there, but seemed confined to one rather large area. The elusive creature was neither getting closer nor retreating. With effort, we attempted to regulate our breathing, and together worked up a small measure of bravery. After all, the thing had made no effort to break down our front door. Even so, it wasnt leaving. Maybe it had gotten so tangled in the vines that it couldnt break free.
We waited. Just one more minute. The beast continued to punish our trees and paint disastrous pictures in our minds. I could imagine it becoming more and more wrapped up in the vines, all the while its temper on the verge of exploding. The rampage filled our ears. Courage surfacing slightly, we whispered agreement to open the door a crack. Now? Just enough to peek out. Wait. Lets at least grab the flashlight. We may need to describe this to authorities.
Flashlight in one hand, with the other I turned the brass knob and pulled the door open a sliver. This whipping and crashing had not abated and, strangely, the area of attack had not changed. Whatever it was, it surely wasnt aware that we were watching.
|