A story in 300 words.
The Watchers
The hilly path was always deserted at this time of day. I was breathless from hurrying. It was later than usual.
I’d almost reached the fork when two men came into view, strolling down the higher branch of the path. We met on the narrow trail and I acknowledged them with a brisk nod, eager to be on my way. But the taller man paused. He wore an ardent expression.
“What a day! The wildlife in these hills is really something.” He had no need to confirm our mutual hobby. The binoculars around my neck were of similar quality to those worn by both men.
His companion was eyeing me.“Bit late to be going up there.”
“It’s alright. I prefer the twilight.” They were blocking the path. I shifted from one foot to the other.
“Someone know where you are?”
“Yes.” Technically it was true.
The darkening sky was urging me. Abandoning restraint, I squeezed past them with a muttered apology.
I’d just passed the fork when the second man called again. “Hey, that’s the wrong way. That path just circles around the hill and ends up by the old mansion.”
I turned back “Thanks. I prefer this path.”
The first man was grinning. He understood. Tugging on his companion’s arm, he said something and they turned to continue down the path. Their shadows stretched sideways, distended over the heather.
I had just settled breathless into my usual spot on the hilly slope when the sun dipped over the horizon.
Right on cue, lights came on in the upstairs windows of the elegant 19th Century mansion. Settling back against my preferred tree, I lifted the binoculars.
The wildlife in these hills was really something.