I was walking through some muddy woods on a foggy evening when I slid on an embankment and landed knee deep in cold murky water.
An unexpected voice cried out: "Get outta my swamp!"
"Get out of my swamp before you ruin it, you damn idiot."
I heard the clicking of what sounded like a shotgun being readied. I moved out of the water and ran wildly through the woods, and didn't look back.
Get out of my swamp before you ruin it.Who could be so possessive about still, murky water? How does one ruin a swamp? I may have come across some fiendish inbred hillbilly with a bent for violence. But there were no hills where I lived. More likely it was some old hippy gone bad. The whole episode was very strange to me and I wouldn't want to relive it.
Poetry Pantry #363
37 minutes ago