Baby

he felt transformed. Smug pleasure strengthened his posture as he loudly called out to Martha, announcing his return and depositing all memory of his late wife’s (shall we call them , peculiarities?) into the callous dustbin of his brain.
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    Eli wiped the back of his chalky lips with a sweaty paw. He was dog tired and as thirsty as a squalling babe searching for its mother’s swollen tit. His muscular frame ached from the exertion of the last two days, but they actually completed the job on schedule. Course, hiring a dozen extra hands helped. He surveyed the field … the waste, pitiful. His men, spent and hungry, hurried to light the bonfires. He planned to let them burn down by nightfall when the fires would become more noticeable. He didn’t think the boss would appreciate it if the adjoining farmers came pokin’ round his business.
    He blew his nose into his hand, slinging it to the ground as he remembered his orders to locate and burn the seed supply. Absently wiping his hand on the back of his canvas workpants, he ambled down the road and up the hill to the barn. He stood under the very wooden support used to hang Netty as he stood wearily looking around the cool interior. The sweet aroma of cow manure, fresh hay and dried horse sweat still permeated the empty barn. No way did they use the barn to store the large quantities of seed he expected to find. Not enough room. Turning away, he hawked dryly on the ground, berating his rotten luck. Now, he was going to have to tramp behind the cabin to the distant outbuilding near the bakery that he suspected held the seeds . Sheeit . Having spotted a few rattlesnakes in the stone wall along the orchard, he knew the field might harbor a few late lurkers as they lay ready to ambush unsuspecting field mice. Sighing out loud, he shook his head and picked up the jar of petrol he planned to use, simplifying the ignition of the fire. Okay, let’s go break that bitch, he groused to himself, pathetically trying to gin up some energy for the trek.
    It didn’t take long to cross the deserted field. The hot sun, now low in the western sky, failed to reach the eastern part of the field behind the cabin, making the large but almost windowless shed appear foreboding and gloomy. Spotting a fallen tree branch, he fashioned a torch out of dried grasses held together by his pocket handkerchief, soaked conveniently in the petrol. Admiring his cleverness, he pulled out a book of matches and lit the torch, grateful for the bright light. Holding the torch high, he pulled the stubborn door wide, juggling his torch and the jar of petrol. Scanning the storage space, he spotted enormous black earthen jugs near the only window in the place, its panes filthy and useless. The jugs lay on their side in disarray. Curious, he made his way to the window, kicking aimlessly at the jugs, all of them empty. Husks crunched under foot as he realized someone already beat him to the seeds. As his torch cast shadows suggestively on the walls, lovers entwined in macabre antics, he considered his next move. Distracted, he felt the shadows mock him as he pondered a plausible story for the boss.
    Deciding to retreat back to the field, he turned to go, spotting a large dark round hole in the corner of the shed. Was that movement? Eli leaned over, holding his torch high, the jar of petrol safely clutched tightly to his chest. Peering into the corner along the floor, he failed to spot anything. His eyes lifted off the floor to study the hole. It looked familiar. His neck prickled with a persistent feeling of surveillance. He slowly started to back up, telling himself he needed to get out of there anyway. Turning, his eyes swept up to the ceiling, the sight stopping his heart in mid beat. The thick fibrous and glistening thing hung in the air like a slobbering viper preparing to strike. He froze. As his brain registered the fact that the thing projected from the round hole, he remembered where he last saw the identical holes. His bowels loosened, soiling his workpants. As the stench filled the shed, he thanked God for the torch. The thing appeared to study the fire as it hung in the air over his head. “That’s right, you freaky mother fucker. Don’t like the fire, do ya?” His courage elevated a notch as he continued his retreat, clutching the torch higher. That’s when the torch suddenly threw off a spark. The thing jerked back, causing Eli to jerk reflexively. Off balance, he dropped the torch. In his