Three Rights Make a Left

by KEN LEONARD

 

Winston and his daughter Leni, walked into the cold dark morning past the vegetable garden and into the woods down the old familiar trail. They knew every tree and rock by heart so they didn’t need a flashlight. Thick cloud cover blocked any moonlight but flashes of lightning in the distance reminded them where they were, The farm had been his father’s, and his father’s father’s. and so on for seven generations. The edge of the reserve where they were heading was a quarter mile away.