Short Stories WR Woodbury

     Okotoks was originally a railway town divided into a grid of rectangular blocks, each the length of a stream train.  By the end of the century It had since burst its prairie-section boundaries and become a spruce and poplar filled bedroom community of identical curving streets and stubby cul-de-sacs built for Calgary commuters.  The town is far enough east of the Rockies that the mountains look like a frosty rumble strip across the western horizon.         Danny’s six year old son Luke sat up tall in the passenger’s seat.  “Dad!” He pointed to a sign for a trailer park that was squeezed between the original town-site along the river, and the newer industrial area that served the remnants of the oil and sulphur fields.   “You have to turn here for grandma’s place.”   Danny was always surprised by his son’s alertness and awareness. Like his father, Luke wasn’t very talkative but he didn’t miss much....