Contributing to "writing group"

   Some of the most intense creative gatherings involve people getting there.  Out of grinds, loss of familarity with pen and string.  Free, so

  Sketched, write on decency.  It goes with an image/impression...that formal dance you have to do, emotions packed into stiff clothing, so much not said

  The act of writing can be a blur of emotions.  It can also be forged.

  You're not writing your whole damn thesis up in here.  Group's got one hour.

  Yikes!  

  It may have been my tenth year alive.  I felt older and younger as we stretched the accordion of us and sneakily tramped over tall seeded field.  This should have been mowed, was said.  The moon, too far away to be spying?

  We'd waited until way past bedtime.  People had been "dropping like flies" so we waited because of that too.  Late crickets pushed and pushed their lonely calls from spots they'd claimed for season.

  Distances-between measured in glances up from self making way and out at moonlit shoes and jeans pocket-stitching.  Back up.  Back up, mama had whispered so seriously when we bumped into her like ducks in the curve of a pond.  We were kind of afraid to ask out loud, How far?  Just had to feel our way.

  We'd been close, sharing breath and sweat in a tumble of manuevering over, through, and under barbed wire fence.  Each pawing and licking and flapping over scritches and scratches and rips that happened.  Flap it over, we'll sew it later.  You'll so it later?  I'll sew it later.  It's already later, and a yawn.  She'd assembled us like for a photograph after the crossing, a brother in a flight hat was naming the points and our moves on the mission.  It's too tight!  He said as her chilled hands pulled the chin straps together as she emphasized flap it over

  For now.  Once through the crossing we could smell gasoline and oil.  Another brother, born with a rake and shovel in hand, knelt on one knee and felt the earth to see.  Feel it everyone, he said.  It was flattened dirt still warm from day shining on it.  Each also touched dark stain.  It doesn't hurt you, little old man said to eeeww and slippery.  Must've had a leak, was said.  We hadn't heard the tractor for a few days.  Mama told Daddy but he didn't know who to call on the phone.

  Maybe the gas crisis, maybe the farmer ran out of gas.  NO, THAT'S OVER, right Mom?!  It is curious, she'd said then.

  Each of us stealthily made it to tree.  Roots--the welcome mat reaching to steady feet unsure.  Probably.  He probably wouldn't mind.  We'd probably make it all the way.  Just like we'd probably stuck with the plan.

  The tractor wheel like a croissant and then a whole circle again.  Like there'd been discuss this and Daddy's flabbergasted not whole smile and laughter-broken sentences better think about it, laughing, YOU, think about it, laughing, people don't borrow pumpkins.

  We will.  Mama said of mission and the pumpkins.  Had to explain why this year was different, can't carve it, the sisters reiterated the point.

  From tree touching of trunk, one by one, we were creepin' closer.  The air was getting dewy fast and someone slipped.  Eyes took in the fall.  Muddied knee.  Now I fit in, a sister said at a rendezvous point not far from the farmer's home.  She got hushed but we looked at ourselves, somehow getting covered in farm.

  We rounded the barn to crest patch, crouched and group-pushing-and-pulling to goal.  Then mama's hand swooshed through the smells and making us wait again, "Pause" a sentry stilled us.

  Visions of which pumpkin we each might find, just over the last landrise

  A pumpkin thudded.  Flattening on the bottom, cracking.  Neat meat suddenly oozing guts.  Emotions frozen in sucked-back-in reactions.

  The be quiet finger to lips.

  Another pumpkin splotch-landed and rolled crookedly.

  Voices.

  Whoooooosh A pumpkin went sailing by.

  A brother grabbed the back of mama wearing one of Daddy's shirts and pulled her close.  Hand covering secret whispered.  She stood up straight and tall but backed towards the barn wall.  Said, I think he might be.  Then, Stay together!  She went backwards on the mission towards the farmers home.

  A pumpkin with splotches and freckles rolled towards us.  A brother kicked it away.  Don't worry, we'll get pumpkins.  Dad said we can't afford holidays now.  SHE MAKES HOLIDAYS.  The eldest brother looked up a mix of dreamy and solid, kind of wanting to smile but like the smile wouldn't come until the future.  Dad CAN afford it, but he won't.  Why not?  Probably to make his point about wasting money.  The littler kids' heads looked back and forth at who was talking.  The thuds were coming quicker and then they quieted to nothing.

  Mama didn't come right back and when she did she stayed like in the outfield looking like a mermaid in the moonlight.  She waited 'til one of us saw her then she signed: Wait.  Waving us over.  One at a time.

  She'd made a few phone calls.

  Like who?

  Your father.  And Liz.

  The babysitter?

  Are you going to leave us here?

  NO.  She pulled us all closer with little tugs like we were a blanket.  I would never do that.

  Just goop, pumpkin goop, came flying over the landrise.

  Who do you think it is?

  The farmer would never do that.

  No, he wouldn't.

  And we wouldn't steal.

  No, we wouldn't.

  Borrowing is different?  

  Mostly yes unless you don't return the item.

  Probably SCAVENGERS.  One brother decided and the smaller one started to take off towards the pumpkin patch.  Get back here.  Yeah.  You can't go by yourself.  A half a pumpkin came through the air.  A brother dodged the other half getting over there.  He picked that up and showed us the big bite marks in that half by pointing and making dramatic chompings.  Our mom shook her head, still wrong.  The other brother ran over.  Both dropped like Marines and belly-crawled almost to the top of the blind spot.  They were still there when a Sheriff rolled up totally quiet, no lights.

  Sheriff got out and belly-crawled up beside the boys.  They actually saw Dad coming on the front road right up the patch driveway.  The Sheriff stood up, pulling his gun belt along with him going down there.  A fat scruffy guy put a pumpkin in front of his face.  And a real skinny ripped up jean shorts guy chucked one more pumpkin into a station wagon full.  Made for the driver's side.  Sheriff called out, I know you son.  I know you.

  Sheriff got closer and Daddy got one foot on the ground and halfway out of the car.  The Sheriff put a hand up to indicate Dad should STAY THERE.  The fat guy threw the pumpkin at the Law.  The skinny guy spun the wheels, the car full of pumpkins weighted backwards, and the car fishtailed and Daddy jumped back inside his.

  Gardammit!  Liz came walking up fast, fringe on tee-shirt swinging side to side then sort of u-turned.

  Sorry I called.

  Nawr, glad you did, it's just, everytime they come around there's

  The Sheriff kept his hand on his gun but in its holder.  Seen your mug too, He said to the fat guy.  Name's Boregard.  Bor-eh-gard huh?  The man nodded.

  The Sheriff sighed and looked around.  Stealing pumpkins?  Trespassing?  

  If you say so.

  I'll have to take you down to the station.

  Can we return the pumpkins?

  The ambulance pulling in behind Daddy's car sort of answered the question.  But the man asked, For me?

  Because?

  I think I'm having a heart attack.

  Come on, the Sheriff grabbed the man's shirt shoulder and led him to the policecar.

  Our Dad got out of the car and came towards the Sheriff.  Is my wife in any trouble?

  Where is she?

  Mama took a deep breath and blew it out.  Then she pushed her shoulders back and started towards the men.  So we all did.

  Who called in a dead body?  The Sheriff asked us all.  One of the sister's mouths fell open shocked.  The other sister looked at her and did the same.  I did Sir, felt I had to.

  Are you with?  He thumbed over to the caught one.  Boregard said, We didn't kill nobody here.  The Sheriff blew out his breath.  He asked mama, Are you related to the deceased?

  No, Sir, he was my

  He's our farthest away neighbor

  Friend

  The FARMER DIED?  The littlest brother at the time asked.  His face showed he just got it then he frowned hard, And THEY'RE STEALING THE PUMPKINS.

  WE'LL find the pumpkins, the Sheriff assured.

  But, BUT WHO will make more???

  Dad quickly laid out the plan.  We'll go to a pumpkin stand.  I'll buy us pumpkins.

  You can carve those, our mother finished the not most important plan at the moment.  The Sheriff crossed over to the ambulance workers.  The three of them came over and the Sheriff asked, Can you show me where you found the deceased?

  Yes.  So Mom and Dad walked with the Sheriff and the ambulance workers towards the farmer's home.

  Dead bodies can't press charges, the thief called out.

  Shut it Bo.  Our babysitter didn't say anything else and he did.

  After mama and Liz agreed to stay at the farmer's home until a different car could come, Daddy drove us back to our house.  Every five to ten feet there was pumpkins that had come out the back window.  Daddy would brake and stop and we picked up all the ones in the road.  Next day we saw our little brother had put them all in rows in our garden.