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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/141814-Hobo
by RatDog
Rated: 18+ · Book · Fantasy · #274453
A Journal of my adventures in the world I inhabit while I'm asleep.
#141814 added January 7, 2002 at 12:25am
Restrictions: None
Hobo

I’m a hobo, camping along a river with another ‘bo. We got flooded out of our last camp during a storm; our gear is all muddy. We just moved to a new camp further upstream, it’s on land owned by an eccentric old artist, he lives in a cabin in the woods not far from here. We’ve met him before, he doesn’t mind us staying on his land occasionally, but he’s not very sociable, he prefers to be left alone.

We’re setting up our new camp. I’m washing the mud out of my clothes on the riverbank. All of a sudden two paramedics come running down the trail, carrying a stretcher. One of them asks if the old man’s cabin is nearby. I point down the trail: “It’s about a half a mile further.”

The paramedics hurry on, we follow. We ask what’s wrong, they say they got a call from someone, saying the old guy was seriously ill. When we get to the cabin, they tell us to stay outside. A few minutes later they come out bearing the old man on the stretcher. They’re not hurrying any more, and the man has a blanket thrown over him, he’s obviously dead.

The paramedics tell us we’d better keep on moving; we shouldn’t be on this property. We walk with them back to our camp. “We’ll be outa here as soon as we finish packing up.” I tell them, as I start stuffing my gear back into my pack.

Once the paramedics leave, we hurry back to the cabin. “Mght as well see if there’s anything worth taking. No use in letting the stuff going to waste; the old man’s not gonna need it anymore.”

The paramedics locked the cabin up, figuring we’d be back. I use a rock to break out a door window and unlock it. Once inside, we’re surprised at how shabby the cabin is (the old man had never invited us in). Everything is moldy and dusty, even his paintings and sculptures. I find a blanket and a flannel shirt the are still in pretty good shape, but I’ll have to wash them in the river. My buddy finds a pair of shoes that fit and a cooking pot that looks pretty good. We grab the stuff and hurry on down the trail. The paramedics will no doubt tell the police they saw us. We want to be far away when they come back here to check things out.

© Copyright 2002 RatDog (UN: cyam_01 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
RatDog has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/141814-Hobo