... some days, well, you got nothing... today is one of those days.... busy, confused, making decisions, and running the roads means no blogfodder... so, I guess I've give you a little peek into something I've been playing with lately.. enjoy, or not.. we be a laid back group around here... suit yourself... as for me, I'm off to re-watch Groundhog Day and wish I was Bill Murray....

... Roots... 1951... East Tennessee....

Soft, yellow light slanted through the branches of the willows and warmed the forest floor in patches. Shadows moved in the morning air as honeybees tumbled through the dampness in search of the blossoms of magnolia or tiger lily. The thick stand of trees had stood along the river since forever, and their sprawling branches reached out into the hair and pockets of the neighbor trees and created an almost impenetrable tangle. Roots, long ago buried deep beneath the soil, now had been washed clean. A month of rain that seemed never-ending had stripped away the soil and exposed the reaching arches that dipped into the river. And it was in the mangrove-like roots that they found the dead man.

"..I see it... right there," came a rough whisper. "...there under that log.. see it?... he's jammed in between those roots..."

The faded overalls that the corpse wore were marked with mud. The boy strained to see through the murky light. Bloody stains provided the darkest of colors to the ashen, black and white scene. The potash from the tobacco field covered the dead man's hands and neck, and his once black face was a shade of cold gray.

"..can you crawl down there to him, Mr. Will?.."

"..I believe I might be able to... he's on a slope halfway in the water... hard to get to, but I can get there...."

The hound whined and leaned on the leash at the smell of death. It had hunted these wood hundreds of nights, but it didn't know or understand this new smell.

"...get up here and take hold of this damned dog, boy... he's liable to start baying for blood or acting crazy.... get him back to the edge of the woods where he can't smell this dead nigger..."

The young man moved forward through the grasping limbs and reached for the leather leash. The horsehide was worn and cracked from years of use, but it remained sturdy enough to hold the old dog. He remembered watching the old black man yesterday. The thought had hit him that the man's skin had looked like the leather of the old halter that was slung over the neck of the feeble mule he was plowing. "... beasts of burden, both of 'em...", he muttered under his breath. The boy pulled hard on the leash and the dog let fly a yelp of surprise.

"...damn it, boy, keep that animal quiet... why the Hell do you think I told you to take it away from me?..."

The farmer bent at the waist and spat as he eyed the boy. Tobacco juice disappeared as it slipped between dead leaves. He turned his head back towards the river and slowly sank to his knees. He peered ahead through the roots at the face of the dead man. He felt the coolness of the wet soil penetrate his clothes and chill his belly and thighs as he lay himself flat. With purpose, he slowly slid himself across the mud. Nature was his best tool here, and he used the cage of ruddy roots to pull himself along.

He stopped just short of the body and turned. "...I told you to get from here, boy. Now, get!..." The boy was brought back into reality by the words, and spun around quickly. And with the faithful hound in tow, he started out of the woods. His ears heard the tearing of cloth, but he was too afraid to turn. "...Mr. Will must have made it to that black fella..." he thought, looking down into the brown eyes of the hound.

The boy turned one last time as he approached the place where the willows ceased and the field began. He could not hear or see anything of Mr. Will or the dead man. The smell in the still air of the thicket had been overpowering, and it sparked his imagination. He placed a calloused hand on the dog's head and sat down in the tall grass.

by Eric on September 27, 2005 | Bullshit (5) | TrackBack (0) | Crazy Fiction
Bullshit So Far

That's pretty cool....

Bullshitted by Sam on September 27, 2005 11:41 PM

Likin' it alot, man...

Bullshitted by That 1 Guy on September 27, 2005 11:54 PM


Bullshitted by Jim - PRS on September 28, 2005 04:05 AM

Wow. Please tell me there will be more.....

Bullshitted by Richmond on September 28, 2005 03:45 PM

Wow... awe-inspiring! I'm damn glad I decided to catch up on all your posts!

I was in a writing program for 2 years; at the end I published 2 short stories and a few poems. Even after a zillion revisions, my work never sounded as good as this piece here.

I hope you continue to write and you get to finish it this piece. I also hope writing it helped clear cobwebs in your brain freeing you to make your decisions.

....... Damn....just damn!

Bullshitted by michele on September 30, 2005 11:00 PM