Stumbling through the dark, uncertainty can strike your mind around every corner. With every step you take your heart races, faster and faster. Something is coming, you know it, you can feel it. Paranoia is striking you to your very core. You try calming yourself, there is nothing that can harm you here. After all, if you can't see it, it can't see you. That doesn't mean it can't hear you.
Yard work was never something I was too fond of, especially with as much land as we have. To the residents, more land equals more space for them to put junk to clean up later.
They were paying me for a day's work to help them move a couple things around. Not that I had much of a problem with that. There were things that needed moved with a truck and some old fencing that needed to be taken down. I wasn't skilled much with backing up a truck, but I was pretty well good at taking down fencing.
We each agreed to what exactly we wanted to do. The farmer, along with his son, planned to hook up some boats to a truck and move them. It was my job alone to remove the wiring and take down the fences.
They got to work and as did I. I was surprised at the incredible speed and effort they were putting in to get each boat hooked up and moved. They didn't just move them a few feet either, they moved them across to the other side of their land where they had a little garage-like shelter made.
By the time they had finished, I was nearly half way done taking the fence down. There wasn't a lot of fencing to do, it was the sheer difficulty getting some of the wire cut off the poles. The wire was practically buried and fused to the poles. I managed to get my pliers in to get them unstuck just enough to get them cut off.
It was a mass complicated mess to remove everything, so the farmer and his son grabbed some tools to help me. Somehow, with the same kind of tools I had, they managed to knock it all out faster than I could finish up a single pole. I ended up sitting on the sidelines and watching them finish up.
When they finished, they took all the paneling and set it all up against the side of one of the buildings they had out there. I was in shock and felt a little insignificant. Why did they need me out here if they could easily knock it all out together?
I spotted something in the middle of the field that I could grab to help them out some. It was a string of barbed wire. I began walking toward it when one of them called out to me, telling me to put it in the back of the truck when I'm done with it. I nodded and continued toward it.
It was difficult trying not to stab myself with the wire, but I got it rolled up and I carefully carried it over to the truck.
I lifted my arm and began tossing it over. As I did, it all became unraveled and punctured my skin, the sharp points driving themselves through my hand and my arm. I cried out in pain but nobody heard me.
Yard work was never something I was too fond of, especially with as much land as we have. To the residents, more land equals more space for them to put junk to clean up later.
They were paying me for a day's work to help them move a couple things around. Not that I had much of a problem with that. There were things that needed moved with a truck and some old fencing that needed to be taken down. I wasn't skilled much with backing up a truck, but I was pretty well good at taking down fencing.
We each agreed to what exactly we wanted to do. The farmer, along with his son, planned to hook up some boats to a truck and move them. It was my job alone to remove the wiring and take down the fences.
They got to work and as did I. I was surprised at the incredible speed and effort they were putting in to get each boat hooked up and moved. They didn't just move them a few feet either, they moved them across to the other side of their land where they had a little garage-like shelter made.
By the time they had finished, I was nearly half way done taking the fence down. There wasn't a lot of fencing to do, it was the sheer difficulty getting some of the wire cut off the poles. The wire was practically buried and fused to the poles. I managed to get my pliers in to get them unstuck just enough to get them cut off.
It was a mass complicated mess to remove everything, so the farmer and his son grabbed some tools to help me. Somehow, with the same kind of tools I had, they managed to knock it all out faster than I could finish up a single pole. I ended up sitting on the sidelines and watching them finish up.
When they finished, they took all the paneling and set it all up against the side of one of the buildings they had out there. I was in shock and felt a little insignificant. Why did they need me out here if they could easily knock it all out together?
I spotted something in the middle of the field that I could grab to help them out some. It was a string of barbed wire. I began walking toward it when one of them called out to me, telling me to put it in the back of the truck when I'm done with it. I nodded and continued toward it.
It was difficult trying not to stab myself with the wire, but I got it rolled up and I carefully carried it over to the truck.
I lifted my arm and began tossing it over. As I did, it all became unraveled and punctured my skin, the sharp points driving themselves through my hand and my arm. I cried out in pain but nobody heard me.
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