Neighbors

Flash Fiction

Photo by Chandler Cruttenden on Unsplash

When Trent Greenwall turned his head—morning cup of coffee in hand—he witnessed Mrs. Bennington’s tall oak tree split down the middle and fall across her driveway. It landed with a cushioned boom due to the six inches of heavy snow that had accumulated overnight. Limbs snapped and scattered across the driveway and lawn.

The tree had been dying for years, yet its current state baffled Trent. It looked like a giant had taken a woodcutter’s axe and hacked a clean stroke down the tree’s middle in near symmetry. Half the tree still stood erect.

“Well shit,” Trent muttered and set his coffee down on the counter. He stared at the mess, knowing it would eat up the bulk of his Saturday. His wife, Allie, was away at a work conference. But even if she were home, she’d encourage him to take the same course of action. He could hear Allie’s voice: She could use a hand.

Trent went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and then dressed for the occasion.

A few minutes later, chainsaw in hand, Trent knocked on Mrs. Bennington’s front door.

“Oh, Trent,” she said upon seeing him. “I’m devastated…I knew its time had come, but I wasn’t ready for it to go.” Her voice trailed off.

The two gazed at the tree in silence, honoring its memory. “Mind if I take care of it for you?” he asked. “I know you’d probably like to get out of here once the roads are clear.”

“Thank you. Please do…you’re a godsend,” she replied.

They chatted for another minute before Trent wandered back to the tree and fired up the chainsaw.

As he cut the tree to pieces, Trent’s mind wandered. He didn’t know for certain, but he assumed Mrs. Bennington was in her late seventies. Her husband had passed away a few winters ago, but she remained active with the local historical society and weekly book clubs. She hadn’t been the same since losing Gabriel, but her independence remained important to her.

Trent thought about Allie—what life would be like without her. What a burden it would be, what a nightmare. He wasn’t sure he’d be up for the challenge. It would be a hell of a lonesome endeavor.

Trent stacked the logs in a neat pile near the driveway and cleared it of any remaining branches. He’d move it all behind her shed or haul it into the woods when the snow melted.

When the job was finished, Trent walked home, hung up the chainsaw in his shed, and hopped in his truck to plow their driveways. He started with Mrs. Bennington’s, then worked his way back over to his own.

By the time he came inside and kicked off his boots, it was well past noon. Trent reheated his coffee and ate a quick sandwich before sitting in his recliner in the living room. He reached for his paperback from the side table and kicked his feet up. Within five minutes, the novel rested on his stomach. He breathed deeply.

Some time later, Trent woke with a start.  

“The hell…” he mumbled.

That’s when he heard someone knocking at the door.

Trent walked to it in a daze and pulled it open.

It was Mrs. Bennington. She held a pan covered in aluminum foil.

“A little something for you,” she said. “For all your help.”

“Oh, wow—thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

“And neither did you.” She glanced over her shoulder at her house.

Mrs. Bennington handed him the pan. It was heavy. A yellow sticky note on the top read Lasagna—375 for 45 min.

The two said goodbye and Trent closed the door. Before he took a step toward the kitchen, a thought struck him.

“Hey,” he said, sticking his head outside. “Want to come over for dinner around 5:00? I’m making lasagna.”

Mrs. Bennington turned and let out a laugh. “That sounds lovely. Count me in.”

Thank you so much for reading “Neighbors” and for subscribing to Along the Hudson. I hope you enjoyed the story.

As always, please feel free to leave a comment or share with a fellow reader.

Take care and thanks again. I hope you have a wonderful week!

To those of you who would like to read and write some fifty-word stories…let’s get to it!

Our next Fifties by the Fire meetup will occur this Friday, February 23 at 3:00 PM EST. The thread will go live at this time. We tend to keep the fire going well into the weekend, so don’t worry if you show up late!

Also, if you missed our last get-together, you can check out the stories here.

Prompt for February 23: Write a fifty-word story (fiction, poetry, or CNF) based upon a gateway.

“A Gateway” by John Lightle