- Local time
- Today 11:13 AM
- Messages
- 1,756
- Pronouns
- God. Thought Criminal.
Not a Weather Balloon.
Wednesday, August 11th, 1948, United States of America, Arizona, East of Tortilla Flats, West of the Superstition Mountains.
Once a man's eyes go used to it, horseback riding on a night with a half-moon up in the sky wasn't all that hard. The horse had excellent night vision and a man's eyes would also adjust a bit to the dark. Walking on uneven ground and trotting on flat ground meant that a horse and rider could cover a fair amount of distance before the sun came up. Clifford Rawlings, a sandy-haired ranch hand, decided that he needed some time by his lonesome. He a was healthy, lanky muscled, twenty-two year old 'gringo'. While born and raised in Scottsdale, being 'white' still got you named as an outsider to the Mexican and Native ranch hands. That was a bit of what was under Clifford's skin tonight.
He ought to be grateful, thought Clifford. Dad had died in World War Two, at the age of thirty-eight. Clifford turned eighteen in nineteen forty-four and registered for the draft, but as the only son in the family he was able to get deferments so that he could help his mother raise his two younger sisters. It was just the way the world was. He was glad that he provide for and could look out for the family. But now there was peace and the lucky men who returned from the war seemed to have 'grown up' so much more than Clifford had that they often made him feel like just a boy. His twin sisters were over eighteen now and they both now had fiancés that they were engaged to. Old man Carver, who attended the same church as the Rawlings family, had recently proposed marriage to Clifford's mother and she had agreed to it.
Now, Clifford Rawlings didn't feel needed in his mother's home and he didn't feel wanted by his fellow ranch hands. Therefore, it was a good night to just seek some tranquility in nature.
He didn't just saddle up and go. If something went wrong and he hadn't come back by breakfast, Clifford did want people to come after him. He stopped into the office of the Cow Boss and let him know that Clifford was going out to see if the coyotes were active in the area. As long as Clifford was on his horse, had a rifle and had his sidearm, there really wasn't much to be afraid of. The Cow Boss said 'Alright', told him to be careful and be back at sunrise.
After about an hour of riding eastward, Clifford started to find the peace that he was looking for. His eyes and ears were open to the sounds of nature. The sky caught his attention as meteorites fell from the heavens in burning little white streaks, not likely actually making it to Earth. There sure were a lot of them, but then, he remembered that it was just about the right time of year for a recurring meteor shower. His dad used to tell him that they were shooting stars and also the bullets of Angels practicing their marksmanship for the last battle between good and evil.
Clifford rode for a second hour and, after seeing no signs of coyotes, decided to just lay on his back on a hillside for a bit to look up at the sky. He fastened his horse's reins to a young pine, checked the ground for vermin and laid out a bit of tarpaulin to lay on for a spell. Eventually Clifford's mind, calmed by some happy memories and by being under the stars, found the contentment he'd needed. Now he could ride back to the ranch and face the world of men again in the morning. He shook out and rolled up his little tarp, untied his horse and mounted up. The half moon and the stars would light his way.
Then, unexpectedly, the stars above Clifford were blotted out by some giant shadow. From above him and with no previous audible warning he was assailed by a deep "thrumming sound". Clifford had to fight to stay in control of his horse and in the saddle. While all of this was going on, man and horse were blindingly illuminated in white light from directly above them and uncertain as to how they should try to flee!
Wednesday, August 11th, 1948, United States of America, Arizona, East of Tortilla Flats, West of the Superstition Mountains.
Once a man's eyes go used to it, horseback riding on a night with a half-moon up in the sky wasn't all that hard. The horse had excellent night vision and a man's eyes would also adjust a bit to the dark. Walking on uneven ground and trotting on flat ground meant that a horse and rider could cover a fair amount of distance before the sun came up. Clifford Rawlings, a sandy-haired ranch hand, decided that he needed some time by his lonesome. He a was healthy, lanky muscled, twenty-two year old 'gringo'. While born and raised in Scottsdale, being 'white' still got you named as an outsider to the Mexican and Native ranch hands. That was a bit of what was under Clifford's skin tonight.
He ought to be grateful, thought Clifford. Dad had died in World War Two, at the age of thirty-eight. Clifford turned eighteen in nineteen forty-four and registered for the draft, but as the only son in the family he was able to get deferments so that he could help his mother raise his two younger sisters. It was just the way the world was. He was glad that he provide for and could look out for the family. But now there was peace and the lucky men who returned from the war seemed to have 'grown up' so much more than Clifford had that they often made him feel like just a boy. His twin sisters were over eighteen now and they both now had fiancés that they were engaged to. Old man Carver, who attended the same church as the Rawlings family, had recently proposed marriage to Clifford's mother and she had agreed to it.
Now, Clifford Rawlings didn't feel needed in his mother's home and he didn't feel wanted by his fellow ranch hands. Therefore, it was a good night to just seek some tranquility in nature.
He didn't just saddle up and go. If something went wrong and he hadn't come back by breakfast, Clifford did want people to come after him. He stopped into the office of the Cow Boss and let him know that Clifford was going out to see if the coyotes were active in the area. As long as Clifford was on his horse, had a rifle and had his sidearm, there really wasn't much to be afraid of. The Cow Boss said 'Alright', told him to be careful and be back at sunrise.
After about an hour of riding eastward, Clifford started to find the peace that he was looking for. His eyes and ears were open to the sounds of nature. The sky caught his attention as meteorites fell from the heavens in burning little white streaks, not likely actually making it to Earth. There sure were a lot of them, but then, he remembered that it was just about the right time of year for a recurring meteor shower. His dad used to tell him that they were shooting stars and also the bullets of Angels practicing their marksmanship for the last battle between good and evil.
Clifford rode for a second hour and, after seeing no signs of coyotes, decided to just lay on his back on a hillside for a bit to look up at the sky. He fastened his horse's reins to a young pine, checked the ground for vermin and laid out a bit of tarpaulin to lay on for a spell. Eventually Clifford's mind, calmed by some happy memories and by being under the stars, found the contentment he'd needed. Now he could ride back to the ranch and face the world of men again in the morning. He shook out and rolled up his little tarp, untied his horse and mounted up. The half moon and the stars would light his way.
Then, unexpectedly, the stars above Clifford were blotted out by some giant shadow. From above him and with no previous audible warning he was assailed by a deep "thrumming sound". Clifford had to fight to stay in control of his horse and in the saddle. While all of this was going on, man and horse were blindingly illuminated in white light from directly above them and uncertain as to how they should try to flee!