The heavy number four pellets hit him in the chest. He literally flew against the wall, where he covered it with blood. I couldn't see the blood, but ... was sure it was there.I knew he was dead or a least no longer a threat so I checked to see if there was anyone else in the house. Someone ran out of the downstairs and pulled away quickly. I didn't get a look at the car, so I wouldn't be of any help to the cops on that. My first call was to the Swamp Dog, not the Church Camp nor the cops. I told. It’s a place I like to go when I’ve had enough of my daily dose of troubles. So off I went alone. The mountain is steep, not like rock climbing, just a robust ascent. The skies are gray. I travelled a wooded trail. I had hiked all day and planned on camping over night. The hour was growing near when day is neither light nor dark. As I stepped over a fallen branch, I wonder just when that moment crosses over. There must be that precise moment. Just like there must be that finite moment. More

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