Flash Friday: Backwoods by Kent Warren

This week’s Flash Friday features part two of author Kent Warren’s tale of suspense Backwoods. To get caught up, read part one of Backwoods here. Kent lives with his wife Karin on five beautiful acres in southwest Washington. In addition to being a loving husband, father, and grandfather of three, he is a skilled builder, master inventor, expert marksman, true patriot, and a very talented writer. He is currently working on his first novel. Look for the continuation of Backwoods to be featured in next week’s Flash Friday installment on Creative Procrastination. Enjoy!

Backwoods (cont.)
by Kent R. Warren

Part 1

Part 3

Part 2:

For $150.00 I could have bought a cord of firewood. Instead I lay here in the creek bottom with a large tractor resting on both legs, my Mexican itinerant berry picking friend and temp helper Jose’ on his back a short distance away with broken bones sticking out his pant leg and shirt sleeve, and a mountain lion coming to have lunch with me. Of me.


“Hey boss?” Jose’ said.


“What was that noise?”

“I think it’s a cougar, Jose”

“Shit boss!!”

“Just stay still Jose, don’t try to run away”


They say humor is the best medicine…maybe not in this case.

After my first sighting of a cougar on my property, I thought it would be prudent to learn about them since eviction was not practical.

I started to pull things up in my mind that might save our butts.

I know that cougars are not just random killers. They kill to eat and will perform risk assessment on potential prey. They instinctively know that if they are seriously injured, such as a broken leg, during pursuit and the ensuing struggle, they will no longer be able to hunt and will die. The amount of risk they will take is directly related to how hungry they are and whether they have new offspring. With the amount of prey here, abundant deer, rabbits, and other critters, they are not inclined to take chances. I hope.

On the other hand, Jose’ and I probably don’t appear to be much of a threat.

I again strained to look over at Jose’. Interestingly, other than his face being pretty much covered with mostly dried blood, his serious wounds, the compound fractures, didn’t appear to be bleeding at all. He was also unconscious. Probably a good thing.

Most times when I come down here to work, I carry my .40 cal Glock. Today I wouldn’t need it because we would be working with the tractor, making a lot of noise, and moving around all the time. This, I realized, is the exact same reasoning sheeple use when they decide they won’t need to carry their gun to town today. Well, I won’t need it today because blah blah, blah.

So, no gun. The only weapon at my disposal was my K-Bar. The large black military fighting/utility knife I bought years ago because it is indeed a very cool knife. I had not really used it for anything other than letting my granddaughter Boo use it to carve her Halloween pumpkin a few years ago while we took pictures. Never the less, it is made for fighting and it looks to me like, unless something changes real soon, that is what it will be used for.

My attention was again drawn to the dark creek bottom this time because I thought I detected movement.

The lactating female, about 130 pounds, was curiously intent.

My right hand found the handle of the K-Bar in the mud just below my belt.

to be continued…

Return next week for the continuation of Kent Warren’s Backwoods. To get Backwoods in your InBox simply subscribe to this blog. If you have a piece of short fiction you would like to see featured in a future installment of Flash Friday on Creative Procrastination, please send your submissions using the contact form below. While there is no word count minimum, please limit your submission to 1,000 words or less. Serial fiction will be considered.


About Susan Warren Utley

Susan Warren Utley is a wife and mother living and writing in the shadows of the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Her stories are inspired by the unexpected twists and turns of real life and by her muse, a feisty Jack Russell Terrier who occasionally answers to the name of Lucy. View all posts by Susan Warren Utley

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