Weather It's A War

Sitting outside, pondering global thoughts, Medford Leeds observed the tranquil lake’s pleasant qualities, remembering why he hunkered down, inhabiting a neighboring cabin. Only a few miles down the road, the city where everything started still braved all the growing natural, unfolding elements, encompassing its historical significance, despite the signature cracked bell, retired during an enthusiastic successful victory battle screaming moment celebration.

“It is very peaceful,” the aging freedom fighter noted, not seeing a ripple disrupt the perfect setting.

Medford, whose numerous decade life partner rested below, occupying a plot buried next to the living working each day building a civil existence, stood up then stumbled into the small comfortable living quarters filled with modern day electronic communication devices. Usually during these happiest hours, Mrs. Leeds would have dinner warmed and served, leaving Medford’s last daily duty assigned, “eat the delicious dish”. This tradition ended, when friendly fire enemy sniper bullet picked off the motherless bride, confirming the point, “she did not see it coming”.

Turning on the television before planting himself in the lonely ‘I have accomplished everything executive chair’, the fixated figure listened intently, hearing disturbing newsworthy dialogue.

Placing the headset equipped with a microphone above his head, Medford googled, interesting ham radio discussions. Finding a local discussion group, the curious audience member clicked the link.

“Haddonfield, I am not going out on the lake tonight, no way, no how,”

“But Voorhees, we must do our civil duties when impact weather systems invade,”

“What are our obligations? Voorhees?”

“Make sure everyone is above water,”

Laughing recounting his enlisted service days, Medford eyes raised and the police blotter reports concluded transitioning into predictable future tellers, “we have a major weather event,” the shortened breath meteorologist paused, then continued, "marching its way, well, in formation, revealing an intimidating image, now the good news, since this invasion showed its force on our computers, we will be prepared for a survival fight.”

Checking out the window, Medford stared, monitoring violent choppy wakes and the skies presenting an angry attitude.

“Wow, is that what they meant by the dark clouds of war?” Medford interpreted retreating, using the sleeping quarters as a hiding place.

Lightning bolted; thunder clapped while the rain streamed down, not stopping until the glowing orange morning illumination took the stage. Opening his eyes, Medford realized another day dawned, and nature’s air raid completed its aggressive mission. Leaving the protective covers, Medford ventured outside where the storm abandoned small dew remains, lying silently absorbing the rustic wooden rail.

Strongly, placing his hands, smothering the dampness, Medford spotted something coming closer, and the reality started taking form, evaporating the foggy mist, terrorizing the channel, replacing the scene with a welcoming vivid viewing experience.

“My goodness,” Medford announced, “what could that be?”

“Haddonfield,” Medford could hear, “I got the kitchen sink wheel, make sure you have the backyard garage motor pointing in the right direction.”

“Aye aye, Voorhees,”

“Could that be an actual houseboat?” Medford observed realizing the new generation are front liners, giving them a chance to figure out human overpowering anger. Seeing Haddonfield grab binoculars and Voorhees offer a wave Medford felt secure, “Mr. Leeds,” Voorhees shouted,

“He knows my name,” Medford thought.

“Everything, okay?”

“A little under the weather,” Medford joked, “But other than being waterlogged, I am fine,”

“See you tomorrow,”

“Yes, there will be another day,” Medford ensured.

Making a cup of coffee, Medford settled comfortably, enjoying the captain’s chair warmth and searched the different library websites for the newest literary releases. Finding something co-authored by Samuel Wells and H.G. Clemons, Medford took a nap venturing into a science fiction dreamworld that never could happen but contained artistic warnings, possibly a blueprint describing winning the next military conflict.