The Haunted Traveler December 2017 Edition

63
The Cowboy Cabin
Julia Benally
The cacophony of blasting guns and bellowing soldiers screamed above booming
Heavy Metal. The soldier James played was about to die. As the character dropped
dead, James shrieked for the end of the impossible level had been in sight. His shocking
obscenities reached the preschool down the street. One would think he had lost his leg.
His neighbors would have said his head, but they could still hear him.
“Cheeseburger,” Rita shouted over the din, “Grandpa says someone’s stealing from
the cornfield again. Can you go over there and help him out?”
James grimaced, he hated his nickname. “No.” The cornfield was in the middle of the
woods, his cousin Tobias saw Bigfoot over there not six months ago and Elroy from
across town was found hanging a scant hundred feet away in a big tree. The place was
cursed.
That was of no consequence to Rita for she didn’t have to go over there. Lips pinching
into a thin scarlet line, she snapped off the consol.
“Hey!” James tossed the controller. “What was that for?”
“I swear I’ll ax this stupid box if you don’t help your grandpa. He’s an old man.” And
with that, she marched to the shed for the ax.
James jumped to his socked feet and pulled on his clonking shoes. He had learned the
hard way not to brush off his mom’s threats. The remains of his last system still lay in
the corner of the yard. Slipping his phone into his big pocket, he walked into the messy
living room as his mom entered with the ax.
“I’m ready!” James stomped to the door. “You psycho, axes are for wood.”
“Exactly,” Rita said. “Not for laying around, doing nothing and moping about a
whore who doesn’t want you. Use it for wood and I won’t use it for your retarded