The Ballad of Katherine Kanes

Intentions

Listen, my children. For I have a story for you all. A story of blood and betrayal, of campfire sides and dirty nails. Listen closely, or you will not hear the end. Because of all great friendship stories, they all must eventually come to rend.

 Leonard was a simple man. He only wanted simple things. When he arrived home from a long day at work, all he wanted was to crack open a bottle of ice cold beer, lay down on the couch, and rest. Was that too much to ask for? When he went fishing with Myra, all he wanted his damned wife to do was tie the boat to the tree, cast out her line, and start. Was that too much to ask for? No, of course not. Any sane and healthy person could do something that simple. Life was simple. For him, at least. Why shouldn't it be as easy for the woman he married?

 The baby didn't help at all. Myra's belly was beginning to plump up after five long months of carrying the thing around. Of course, life had given him a baby girl, who Myra had named Elizabeth. Sure, Leonard was happy for her, happy to have a child like the rest of their neighbors did. Little Elizabeth would attend school and be at the top of her class just like her Mommy. She'd help with the cooking and draw her parents little doodles of unicorns and stick figure families. The thing was, he didn't want that. He wanted someone he could teach baseball and golf to. Someone to watch the football games with, and pig out on potato stew Myra made while they lounged, and did nothing. Someone to barbecue with. 

 A boy. He'd wanted a boy.

 Sighing, Leonard took a long swig of his lukewarm bourbon. All of this life shit had tired him, and he needed a break from everything. Myra, the baby, his friend Tod, the barbecue. Just to let it go. So, that was exactly what he did. He was currently camped out in the middle of nowhere with his tiny tent, just big enough for a backpack and a sleeping bag to fit. 

 His truck sat a little ways away. The midnight blue paint glinted with the firelight from his campfire he made around half an hour ago. It was his only source of warmth on this cold, crisp night. He closed his eyes, allowed the popping and snapping of the firewood to soothe his senses. Put a stop to his pained mind. He could still hear Myra's yelling ringing in his ears about how she needed him at home to help with the chores. Chores my ass, he thought to himself. Those weren't for him to do. Now, he knew she needed more help than usual because of the baby and all. Frankly he thought she was being dramatic. 

 The night sky gazed down on him with miniature white specks. Leonard had found a small clearing on an hill that was surrounded by trees and dipped a little where the campfire was built. It wasn't the best but it would do, just for tonight. 

 From the crops of the trees to his left came a slight ruffle of leaves. There was a breeze that disrupted the fire smoke from its upward climb, so naturally, Leonard figured it was just the wind rustling the autumn leaves.  That was the first time he heard it.

 The second time, a branch snapped behind him. His vision was blurred due to the bottle of stale bourbon he bought at a crappy gas station, which was now drained to about two ounces that sloshed around when he moved. He could only see trees. Some bushes, maybe a bird or two nesting in on the old branches. But nothing else.

 Everything was fine. He was just hearing things. In fact, it was about time he headed to bed.

 Leonard shifted back on the grass to toss the empty bottle into the crackling fire before he saw it. A man, about his height, was squatting on the other side of the fire. He was wearing a large and heavy jacket made for winter with the hood up, snow boots, cargo pants, and white leather gloves. What an odd thing to be wearing outside in the middle of summer, Leonard thought, blinking to be sure he wasn't too drunk. He wasn't drunk enough to be imagining things. That was certain.