One morning in early July, an old Winnebago pulled into town, pulling a small trailer. It was from the eighties, and looked every decade of it's thirty years old. It snaked through the little town, past the Baptist church, the supermarket, the high school and the rows of old houses, until it was on the outskirts of town. Turning up an unpaved road, it worked it's way back into the dark woods. It did not stop until it was on an uninhabited lot, with nothing on it put a hookup for water, electricity and sewage.

A man, who only looked eighteen or so, stepped out of the passenger's side of the Winnebago. He stood a little under six feet tall and had shaggy brown hair. He wore faded blue jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt, emblazoned with an advertisement for Valvoline motor oil. His muscles were long and lean, coming more from working with his hands than working out. He had a handsome, clean shaven face.

The man hooked up the Winnebago to the hookups, as a woman emerged from the driver's seat. She was in her early forties, and had long, graying brown hair and a comfortable curves. She was wearing a long, flowing green dress and a sun hat. On her feet were sandles and on her fingers were golden rings. Her ear rings were dangling pentagrams. A dog followed her out. It was German shepherd, which she tied up to a tree. It was long and lean.

They worked together in silence, setting up a canopy and folding camp chairs. Next, the man started to build a camp fire in the existing fire pit. The dog fell asleep against the tree, after watching them for awhile.

The man's name was Shadrack and the woman was his mother. Her name was Sharon. They were gypsies, who's uncle owned the lot they were staying on. They had been on the road for two weeks now, and were glad to be settling in again. They carried their home with them, so wherever they stopped was home, but at a permanent camp site, they could start to rebuild their lives again and look for work.

As the evening came on, and darkness descended, they roasted hot dogs by the light of a quarter moon, and chatted together. An old transistor radio played classic rock tunes, warding off the sounds of the forest.