Mountain Rules: A Short Story

The flames of desire can morph into an inferno of destruction.

Drought fell upon Mason Row during the summer solstice, the small farming community greeted the sunshine with dreaded welcome; cattle and crop usually thrived beneath its brilliant rays, but this year. . . this year brought danger. A farmer mowing his parched lawn could set the world ablaze, a single firecracker could ravish an entire country side, these reason kept the town constable Eldred Tolhurst awake at night, and kept him on edge most days.

On the 23rd of June he entered the county barracks, switched on the coffee pot, and made his way into his office. The morning shift had yet to arrive, including the town’s emergency liaison, Teressa Wall. Staff tardiness was a luxury afforded to peacekeepers in a community of twelve-hundred; two units patrolled the streets at night, often napping from shear boredom, and dispatch ran direct to Teressa’s home alcove during the wee-hours. The majority of the residences tended to their own affairs, advocates of the term ‘Mountain Rules’, their sole means of keeping problems at bay, firearms. The schools fared well with only the occasional fistfight, the few establishments operated during daylight hours, and Rose Crest minded to their own troubles.

A sanctuary for orphaned girls of the Catholic faith. The girls became a mainstay in the community, often working in diners, participating in outreach programs, and helping the less fortunate. When Sister Cecia passed, her successors continued her legacy, and the girls continued to grace Mason Row with their