Jo Wallace

Love is a Figment Jo Wallace

Despite herself, Granny Haralson became concerned by the silence in her daughter-in-laws bedroom. She quietly tiptoed down the darkened hallways, and a loose board squeaked beneath her feet. She approached the door, slowly easing it open then screamed at the top her lungs at the sight that lay before her. She spun around and crashed out of the screen door, off the front porch, running at full tilt toward Dad over the rough plowed field.

Dad heard her screaming as she ran stumbling over the clods of clay. The hair on the back of his neck crawled and prickled. He tied the leather reins off on the plow handle and ran toward his mother.