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We buried old man Carpenter this morning.

It was raining, which seemed somehow appropriate: the old man'd always loved the rain. He liked to walk in the rain and he said he liked the rain mainly because it made all the people go away; then he'd point out that rain brought life and he couldn't understand why everyone else seemed to hate it when it rained. Go figure.

There were only a handful of us there. We huddled together under black umbrellas in the freezing rain and made short, quick statements about life and death and old man Carpenter. Then we trudged off through the mud to our cars and left. I was the last one out and I looked back to see the two gravediggers lowering his box into the ground. It was a cheap plywood job; a pauper's casket. They just closed the lid and hammered in a couple of nails as we were walking away, and dropped him in. I stopped and watched them start to shovel in the dirt. For some reason, I thought they'd use a backhoe or something.

That's when the rain picked up all of a sudden, and I saw the two gravediggers drop their shovels and run for the battered truck they'd come in. They started her up and pulled out, heading back toward the building where they housed their gear. I couldn't blame them: it was really pouring down by then. I pulled out, myself, and went home. Hydroplaned half the way.

When I got here, the lights were out. Happens every time we have a rainstorm. I got inside quick as I could and locked the door. I just stood there shivering in the dark and listened to the storm: it was a real howler; sounded like wolves howling at the moon. I heard something clicking and realized it was my own teeth chattering. I felt my way to the old pot-bellied stove I couldn't bring myself to get rid of and started a fire. I drew up a chair and leaned toward the stove, rubbing my hands together to try to get some circulation going. It took a while.

Some people have every modern convenience you can get; me, I got a radio and a black and white tv I almost never watch. The tv's useless when the power's out, but the radio uses batteries, so I keep some near to hand for emergency situations. I took the radio down from the mantelpiece and went in the kitchen and felt around in the drawer next to the sink until I found the batteries. I went back in the living room and sat back down in front of the stove and managed (after a bit) to get the batteries in right. I found the station I normally listen to (WAKE) and put the radio back on the mantelpiece.

At first, there was only static. I got up and fiddled with the antenna a little bit.

"Stay in your homes," somebody said. The voice on the radio didn't sound right; there was something strange about it… I went and sat down again. "Until further notice, citizens are being urged to remain indoors." I glanced toward the window: through the curtains, I could see the trees in the yard swaying in the wind; rain pelted the glass like beebees. Must be one hell of a howler, I thought. "I repeat," the radio man said: "Stay in your homes until further notice." I shivered again. Thunderstorms are the one thing in the world I honest-to-God fear. When I was a kid, we had a storm damn near blow our house away. Scared the daylights out of me. I been scared of storms ever since. Just seeing the sky get dark causes my stomach to get upset. This storm was beginning to sound like a doozie.

"Lord," I said: "Just get me through this one and I swear to God Almighty I'll change my ways…"

Thunder rumbled and I felt like I was going to shit myself. I hugged myself, rocking back and forth in front of the stove. I felt something on my face and I realized that I was sweating. The wind howled past the windows. I stared through the slits in the door of the stove at the wood burning inside- anything to take my mind off the storm.

That's when I realized the radio had gone quiet. I looked up at it kind of pleading-like, but I was all alone, now. This is just a one story house with four rooms (kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom), but there are times (especially during a bad thunderstorm) when it seems a lot bigger. I got up and moved around a little to try and calm down some.

That's when I heard the scratching. I stopped and listened and I swear to Jesus I heard my own heart beating. I was frozen with fear. The scratching stopped. I couldn't even swallow. And then it happened again. It was coming from behind me. I turned, real slow, and looked toward the window. I could see the naked branches of a tree scraping against the glass. I let out a big sigh of relief and chuckled at my own overactive imagination. Killer trees…?

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