i was with an old man, it could have been my father, but he was too old.

we walked and walked down this dirt road in the woods. finally we came to it, the salvation army junkyard. it was a creepy place. the old caretaker (even older than my father), came up to meet us. his clothes were the color of rust, just like the old scraps of metal lying in the yard. he told us we could have anything we found but to be careful.

he started telling us about a young man who went inside the building and found an old college book, and started reading it. but he just continued to read it, on and on, and never showed the slightest signs of putting it down, day after day, night after night. i didn't want to go inside the building to see if he was still there.

then a young boy came, dressed in the same rusty clothes as the old man. he started telling us a story about the junkyard dog. it had the same creepy feeling to it. the junkyard dog just went round and round in circles and never stopped, not even if there was something in its way.