Autumn crept into our lives, a welcome relief to the steaming summer sun. Guests abandoned the lodge and staff made plans for new adventures in faraway places. A few guests, reluctant to acknowledge the change, clung to the lodge and the summer events that slowly faded into memory.
Brennan’s contract included closing for the season. He had been eager to arrive, caught up in the excitement and anticipation of the brochure’s promises. Now, he found himself resentful of the summer ghosts, who had changed venues and left him behind.
“I can leave Friday,” he said to himself with increasing frequency as the week slowly advanced. Brennan tore through the closing procedures, hoping to fill the remaining time. On the deck last night, they performed a final farewell, toasting summer’s end into the small morning hours. Today, they vanished along with the sun. The clouds and perpetual drizzle bid them goodbye.
Brennan performed one last check, testing locks and making everything secure. He had forgotten the furniture on the deck. As he worked the rain plip-plopped on fading leaves and bounced on the soaked wooden deck boards. The leaves quivered from the onslaught. Sagging beneath the added weight, they maintained their precarious position until a light breeze severed the last connection and they tumbled to the ground.
Impatient, and ready to leave, Brennan finished his list. His luggage stowed in the last car in the parking lot he was on his way. Brennan never looked back as his car sped through the forest of yellow rain, attempting to catch his future.
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer