Do Crazies Wear Boots

Do Crazies Wear Boots

A Chapter by Cherrie Palmer

I jumped into my car and headed back to the place I had just run from. I never believed in such things, but that was before I came face to face with a, a what? A sprit, a Cherubim, Nuriel. I’m not sure what terminology to use, but that is not important, what is important is figuring this out.
My headache started to get worse, and like an old pro I lit up a Winston. Apparently, I had more than one pack. The rush of nicotine took the edge off my pain, and the eerie tune danced in my head. The ringing of my cell phone startled me. It brought me back into focus, and like a kid hiding a transgression, I quickly tossed the smoke out the window. Then answered my husband’s call.
 
“Hey, there.” He said.
 
“Hey yourself.”
 
“Well, we are headed to the river. The Walleye are calling.”
 
“So, you guys decided to camp out on the river after all?” I said playfully trying to sound normal.
 
“That’s the plan, my dear.”
 
“Well catch me a mess of fish and have fun,” I spoke on autopilot as I wondered what I was going to do.
 
“Ya, going to eat in town tonight?”
 
“Yes, I thought I’d pick up some stir-fry. You boys be safe and have a wonderful time. I love you.”
 
“Love you too. Plan on a huge fish fry when we get back. I’ll call you tonight after we get set up.”
 
“Okay, love you.”
 
“You bet, talk to you then.” With that, we both hung up the phone.

The fact I have a Shade (that’s what the old gypsy called it) leaves me with an uneasy feeling. I quickly went from wanting time alone to the need to have people around. However, now all I want is to talk to the old woman. It didn’t take me long to get to her corner of town. Last time I was here my car was the only car in the parking lot. This time there were three vehicles two old rust buckets and a Continental. I made my way to the front door. There were some papers pinned to it. I tried the door, but it was locked. I found that odd and knocked loudly. Two hard raps rang out. I giggled to myself because it sounded very official.
 
“Hello, Hello.” There was no reply. The top paper was a newspaper article, I stared at it. The story told of an attempted fire in a warehouse.
 
What were the odds that the old woman left this for me? I didn’t even know I would come back here, how would she? Slowly I removed the pin. The attempted warehouse fire just ten miles from here, under the clipping a pamphlet, Walking with Angel’s. The three elements are focus, a clear mind, and a switch. A switch, what did they mean by a switch. I tried the door one more time. Slowly returning to my car, I studied the pamphlet.
 
Without thought, I grabbed a cigarette and flicked the lighter. The flame-like a spring bud glowed brightly and danced. My switch, I get it, and I could see. The hooded man walked into the basement carrying his duffle bag. He removed several items. A rush of energy washed over him, and I could sense his anticipation. The young family had no idea of the danger. He released some gas in the vent, and in no time all three of them were asleep on the sofa.

Rage swept over me. I had to find these people. I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I decided to head to the fire station. As I checked my rearview mirror, I saw the old woman peek out the door. She quickly took my card and was gone.  I headed to 5th and Main to the Fire Station. After pulling into the parking lot, I sat in my car. I didn’t know what to say or even how to say it.  I had the newspaper article from my bedroom on my car seat. I took it and the attempted warehouse fire article, I placed them both in my hand checked my makeup, fixed my ponytail and freshened my merlot lip-gloss. As long as I'm going to sound crazy at least, I don't have to look it. My rowan tweed sweater had a tiny cigarette burn on the sleeve. "Awe not my favorite sweater," I muttered to myself and headed inside. I glanced down at my boots and wondered if Justin's were the approved footwear of crazies.
 
Leaving out all words like visions and angel’s I told the Station Chief that I thought the two were related, and I saw a white man in dark clothes and a duffle bag walking around the night of the fire. He walked me back to my car. I know he thought I was a meddling, nut. My only other idea made me nervous, but it was all I had. So, I headed to the address in my vision.



© 2019 Cherrie Palmer


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Reviews

When good got better... my only gripe is the font size.... Nah it aint too big... but I do love merlot lip gloss so am gonna let you off :)

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Months Ago


Cherrie Palmer

5 Months Ago

merlot, would make a great lip gloss. We might be on to something.
Neville Pettitt

5 Months Ago

you bet'cha boots...
Short but strong chapter full of mystery. Wondering what she going to do next. Moving on to find out.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 5 Months Ago


I did liked this chapter. Sometimes crazies do wear combat boots. I will read chapter one now. A amazing chapter Cherrie shared.
Coyote

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 1 Year Ago


Cherrie Palmer

1 Year Ago

Yes, I've seen a flake or two in those very boots the tutu is optional
Thank you so much fo.. read more
Coyote Poetry

1 Year Ago

I liked this poem and you are welcome.
I like how coherent the narrator is, this quality moves the story intelligently.

This review was written for a previous version of this writing

Posted 1 Year Ago



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Added on April 6, 2018
Last Updated on May 12, 2019


Author

Cherrie Palmer
Cherrie Palmer

Oakland, AR



About
I am a published poet and love poetry. My husband and I live near the White River, and love trout fishing. I find my surroundings a great inspiration to me. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: O.. more..

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