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Maybe if I stay real still …
Carolyn won’t notice I’m in her koi pond.
Body Removal
Betty doesn’t look like Betty unless you stare long enough and Miss Helen’s too busy with body removal to take a good look.
“What’s she got, Miss Helen?” Frank asks.
“I have an inkling and, if I’m right, she needs medicine right away.”
They carry her to Moonbeam like soldiers hauling the injured.
“Open both back doors,” Miss Helen snaps at me.
I open the near door first then scramble around to the other side.
“Now come back over here and hold her the front corners long enough for me to go on the other side and pull her in.”
“I …”
“You’re strong enough to hold her up for three seconds, aren’t you?” she squawks.
I take Miss Helen’s place. Now, it’s me who’s keeping up the top half of Betty, but she’s sinking in the middle. Frank stays quiet holding the corners next to his ma’s feet.
Miss Helen climbs in the back seat and grabs the sheet corners by Betty’s head. She pulls Frank’s ma inside Moonbeam like threading a human Yarn through the eye of the needle.
Excerpt from The Moonshine Thicket set in 1928
You know those times …
… when you think you’ve learned all you’re capable of learning, and then, something wonderful happens?
Today, me, the non-sewer, finished my granddaughter’s dress. The seams are wonky, it’s a little too big (falls off the shoulder), the back hem is longer than the front ….
Since it was in sewing language, I must have watched the tutorial fifty times. But I did it! The next one will be FLAWED TO a new level of PERFECTION! 🙂
You want to learn something new? If I can, so can you. Onward you go!
Back off, Jack
Our winged visitor
A Carolina wren found a place for her nest on top of our garage door opener! Hope she doesn’t mind the racket!
Shadow dancing
Nothing like a campfire out in the country to pull you back to reality. Turn up your volume to hear the music!!!
Death of an Uncle
The man lying in the bed doesn’t look anything like my Uncle Joe. His head is all swelled up, and a long, bloody cut runs from his forehead, over his eye, and down to his chin. There’s another cut over his nose, a deep gash across his forehead, and a couple more roost on his chin. Mother comes up behind me with a fresh washcloth and scares the tar outta me.
“What happened to him?”
“Punk Squares and Hammit Bashem beat ’em with knucks and a tar tool,” she says.
“What fer?”
“Don’t rightly know fer sure.”
“When’s he gonna get better?” I whisper.
“Ain’t sure he is, Cono.” I don’t really want to know why Punk and Hammit beat up my Uncle Joe. I’m afraid to.
Three days later, after plenty of moaning, my Uncle Joe dies. Earlier that morning, when he took his last breath, Aunt Nolie covered him with a Blanket and cried, “He didn’t deserve this.” She wipes her nose and eyes with the back of her hand. Except for his cuts and bruises, Uncle Joe was whiter than a bed sheet.
Now some men in a big black car come to take away my stiff-as-a-board uncle.
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper, my father’s story
Mr Buddy and the Lightning Bugs
So glad J-Dubs posted this. Watching the video brings back my childhood. Does China Grove have all the fireflies? Why do I never see them? I want them to light up my life again! Thanks, J-Dubs!!
Times like now I love my life. China Grove Texas 4/25/17 8:30 CST
As always more to come.
Meta pretends she’s a prostitute
His lips mashed together into a thin line. “Hey, wait just a confounded minute. Did you say…? They didn’t hire you to, you know…”
Retaliation. “Yes! I got a job there, and I know I will love it. The clients can be quite challenging. Last night, when I had to explain that I wasn’t warmed up yet—”
“I don’t want to hear more. Hell, I might be street-smart, but I haven’t even turned fifteen yet. Porca miseria!”
“Porca what?”
“Just practicing on not saying ‘shit’ all the time. Ma doesn’t like it, and my little sister thumps me between the eyes when I say it. It’s a little Italian cuss word that means pig misery. Like saying ‘damn.’ Where you off to, anyhow?”
“My Aunt Amelia’s. Would you care to accompany me, Mr. Scallywag? I found a job because of you, did I not?”
He tore the cap off his head and rubbed his greasy black curls of hair. “Stop saying that. I had nothing to do with you getting that job!” He pointed his finger eastward and accelerated his pace.
“Oh, but you did,” I said, hurrying to catch up. “If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be tingling with avidity for this evening to arrive. That’s why I’m going to visit Aunt Amelia, to tell her the good news.”
“What’s avidity mean? Wait, you’re going to tell your great-aunt about your new job? At Fannie Porter’s?”
“Of course. She’ll be thrilled for me. Besides, she knows I’m good at it. I’ve been doing it for years now.” I muzzled the smile aching to form.
His eyes widened into a dumbfounded glare.
“And avidity means eager, like being Avid about something.”
“I gotta go,” he said, turning away.
One more chance at deception. “Giovanni? You said you were fourteen?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, you are too young to be entertained at Miss Fannie’s. However, I’ll ask her if you can watch me perform sometime.”
His jaw dropped, his dander standing taller than his five-foot-five stature. “You want me to…watch?”
“Ah, we’re here. Thanks for the company.” I trotted off with the last laugh.
From The Last Bordello, historical fiction set in 1901
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 