The Jenkins Farm

The Jenkins Farm  (13+) Contest Entry for Dis 1-2017torted Minds Contest #2109455 by Chris Breva

1100 words

Prompt 3 (Picture Prompt)

I had been looking for work since the factory shut down. It had been months and I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to find employment. I could just see myself sitting on a street corner with a white cane in my hand and a hat in front of me to feed my family. Not being quite that desperate however I continued to look for work. My unemployment had long since run out and I didn't qualify for any type of assistance. My next step would have to be to start dipping into my retirement or going to the poor house to borrow from my rich uncle.

One day I had an idea. I took the necessary funds and bought a business license. Then I placed an ad online for odd jobs and waited to see if I got any responses. I had said in the ad that I was willing to do anything from yard work to mechanical work and anything in between. One day the phone rang. "Is this Calvin's Odd Job's?"

"Yes it is," I replied.

"Would you be willing to do farm work? The work is hard and the pay is low. However it would be steady."

"Yes," I replied. "I'd be happy to do anything that is steady work."

"Well show up at 4:00 AM tomorrow at the first house on Harmon Road. I own the farm there. It's a 300 acre spread and I need to plow, till, and plant 150 of those acres soon. Have you ever ran a farm tractor? If not I'll show you how. It isn't hard really. You won't be any place where you can do much damage so you'll be fine. By the way, my name is Fred Harmon."

"I'll be there at 4:00 AM Mr. Harmon," I answered.

"Call me Fred," He responded. "Mr. Harmon and sir were my father's names."

"Okay Fred."

The next morning I drove to Fred Harmon's house on Harmon Road. It was easy to see why it was called Harmon Road. There were at least seven houses up and down the road, all owned by various members of the Harmon family. Fred's house was the last house on the left the way I went in. Had I approached from the other direction it would have been the first house on the right. However I'd have had to have gone ten miles out of my way to go that way.

"You're right on time. I like that," a voice said from the side of the house.

I turned to see a muscular looking man with weathered features approaching. "I'm Fred Harmon. You must be Calvin Reed? Come with me and we'll get right to work on those fields. With the whole crew plowing we should be able to have them plowed in one day.."

"I don't know much about farming Fred, but I sure don't see how 2 men can plow 150 acres in one day!"

"Two men can't. However when you add in all of my brothers and the men working for them, the two men becomes 25 or more."

It was then that I heard the sound of the first approaching tractor. "We help each other plow, till, and plant. Then if somebody needs help during harvest time we send any men we can spare to help out there too. You'll get to know my brothers and sisters and their farms as well as I do."

"I noticed another farm house a few miles from here. Who owns that," I asked.

"Oh that's the old Jenkins place. I heard it was bought by a band of gypsies after old man Jenkins died. I wanted to buy it myself because it connects to my property just beyond the ridge line. Old man Jenkins had a dispute with my dad when I was just a kid though and never spoke to any of us again. He left it in his will that none of us were ever to buy his property. I heard there's a new family living there now. They bought it about five years ago. I hear some awfully strange sounds coming from over that way sometimes but I don't know what they are."

Fred was right. By the end of the day we had all 150 acres of his land plowed and over two-thirds of that tilled as well. It was little wonder though. There were nearly 40 tractors all lining up beside each other plowing and then tilling the land. It was an amazing feet of orchestration but when everybody did their part it worked out well. I found the big John Deere tractor intimidating when i first climbed into the cab but Fred told me what to do and I was soon handling it like I had been doing so all of my life. I figured the pay might not be the greatest but I didn't mind doing that until the factory reopened, if it did.

By the end of my first month we had plowed, tilled, and planted every acre of every farm in the Harmon family. I was finding that I was actually very good at farm life. I had a few blisters but nothing major. My hands were pretty calloused already. The few months of inactivity had softened them up a little but I had stayed active enough to keep most of my callouses. Now I was very glad.

One evening I was working over. One of the tractors had broken down and we had to get it repaired before morning. While I was working I heard a sound in the distance. I couldn't make out what it was but it sounded like a cross between a blood-curdling scream and a guttural growl. I dismissed it and went about my business. We finished the job and I started to drive home. As I approached the old Jenkins place I saw a little girl standing on the side of the road. She flagged me down and asked for help. She said her mommy had been hurt. So I pulled into the drive and parked my car. I walked into the house. Suddenly i felt something stab me in the buttock. I turned to see a woman with a needle standing there before I lost consciousness. When I came to I was buried up to my neck in the ground. I was gagged with duct tape. Two little girls were standing looking down at me. They held a skull in their hands. "Let's bake this one on the rotisserie Mommy," said one of the twins while pointing at me.