Hello fellow Snippers! I’m back!
Okay so this is the very rough beginning of my new story Til Death Do Us Part.[Copyright Moi 2007, common decency, mine mine, don’t steal, don’t copy, link if you will, yadda yadda…]
Wyatt Thompson was an explorer. A treasure hunter, he thought delightedly. He was a modern day pirate, searching for buried treasure. Except instead of a map he had Grandpa Jim’s treasure stick. The slow resonate beep of the metal detector echoed the beat of his adventurous little ten year old heart. Last summer he hadn’t been big enough to properly hold it, but he’d grown four whole inches since Christmas and Grandpa had finally allowed him to use it for the week of his visit.
He’d been limited to staying on the farm, but that in itself had proven to be an expedition. The twisted square of metal he found in the fallow field yesterday had proven to be the belt buckle from a Confederate uniform. With just a little effort Wyatt could hear the boom and zing of cannons and musket balls. He’d found a few of those too. At least Grandpa Jim assured him that the uninspiring lumps of lead had been musket balls once. That was infinitely cooler than the arrowheads he had found last summer.
The rhythm of the beeping lurched and sped up and Wyatt’s heart galloped in response. He was remarkably thorough for his age, walking a grid pattern looking for the point where the signal was strongest. He’d read on the internet that was what archaeologists did. Except instead of digging a grid, he would save time by using the treasure stick.
At last Wyatt narrowed down his search to the point where the beeping was most frantic. He turned off the metal detector and carefully laid it aside before pulling Grandpa Jim’s Army issue fold up spade out of his backpack and beginning to dig. Incongruous visions of gold doubloons and chests of shimmering jewels fueled his young muscles, and he dug for what felt like an hour. Until he saw a gleam in the dirt.
Crowing with excitement, Wyatt dropped to his knees, scooping away the dry and crumbling earth with his hands. It was diamonds! Or a diamond anyway. A ring. His fingers scrabbled to pick it up, but it seemed to be stuck on something. A root had grown up through the center of the band. Wyatt stood and took careful aim with the shovel as he’d seen his grandfather do when severing roots in the garden. With all his strength he plunged the spade downward, straight through the root.
Wyatt knelt again and tugged at the ring. It was remarkably tight on what was left of the root. He dug out a little more dirt, surprised to find another thick root just next to the first. It had a funny texture. Too soft for a root. Brows knit, Wyatt brushed away more earth, his attention distracted from the excitement of the ring. It was so odd to find such a big root out here in the middle of the field. There weren’t any trees. He frowned. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that root looked almost like…a hand.
When he uncovered the watch, Wyatt began to scream.
Hope you enjoyed. Please sign Mr. Linky!