Birth of a Writer

“Mister. Mister, did you hear me?”
My vision was blurred, and my mind was blank. There were no more thoughts.
“You mind repeatin’ that lady?” I asked.
“No problem. Our company is willing to offer you a $15,000 advance and 45% returns on all future sales for this one story.”
“I ain't hear you right, just for this story, you say?”
“Yes, just for this one story.”
“Gag!” I hollered.
I ain’t never imagined nothin’ like this.

When I was born, it was back in a holler, deep in them woods.
My Daddy built our home.
Now it weren’t nothin’ special. I reckon to most people anyhow.
Though it kept us going.
It was built from the pines of the surrounding hills.
Couple of holes here and there. Just enough to keep us guessin’ if it were gon’ rain.
Most of the time, we were lucky. That was til spring rolled around.
I hate that damn season.
Daddy always liked it.
Never knew why, really. Figure I never asked.

Papaw lived ‘round the ridgeline.
He had a little cabin.
Friendliest feller you’d ever meet. Unless yous’ the one he shot back in ‘68.

Well, Daddy ain’t liked him much. Papaw says it’s because of the war.
Daddy never talked about the war.
He was a mean feller my old man was.
Didn’t like to be friendly or nothin’. But Lord, could that man work.
Strong as hell, too.
I once seen him carryin’ two hay bales at one time.
Like a packhorse, I reckon.

Momma was real quiet most of the time.
She stayed home taken care of us kids.
There’s eight of us, ya’know.
Mainly boys and one sister
Reckon once mama started poppin’ them out she didn’t never quit.
Daddy preferred it that way.
He kept her out of school, just near his sight.

Once us kids feet hit the ground, that old bastard put us to work.
We dug the garden, fed the chickens and cows, and cut timber and so on.
We Ain’t had no radio, TV or nothin’.
Real simple livin’.
When I was twelve, I could only speak adult. I Damn near chewed tobacco for a livin too. Grew up real early didn’t we.
Figure you got to when you grow up with seven brothers.
I remember us kids, we used to run around grabbin' what rocks we could find along the creek’ bed behind our house.
Our aim was each other, and we threw ‘em’ til one of us ran home bleedin’.
None’ of us would tell Daddy. Not even Momma.
We all thought the beaten’ from him would’ve been worse than them damn rocks.
I remember one of his spankin’s.
I was the only son that gotten’ one.
Hell, I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was sitting under a tree on a Tuesday afternoon.
Reckon I must’ve been either fourteen or fifteen.
There was a girl up the holler. Couple of houses down from the main road.
Aint nobody known it, but I been sneakin’ around courtin with her behind our Daddys backs.
Her daddy was the Church of Christ preacher just up the road.
Figure that’s where my mistake was made.
Gag!
Yep it sure was.

Anyhow, I was sittin’ down, damn near on the trunk of that tree.
The day was warm and the wind was cool.
The sky above was crystal blue and the floatin’ clouds looked like cotton.
Yep, all was calm til I heard that engine ring through them hills.
Firstly I thought it couldve been my older brother gettin’ off from work.
Guessin’ now it was more of a hope than a real thought.
I knew it was early and that damn girl ain’t been in sight for an hour now.
Well, I rushed down that ridgeline.
I was in such a hurry I even ran through the cow lot, steppin' my favorite pair of boots in a pile of thick shit.
“Damnit to hell!” I hollered out.
That shit smeared all up the side of my leg, even forced me into a split.

Well, I wobbled out of the enclosure smellin' like poop and tryna shake the pain between my legs.
When I peered my eyes around the mound towards the house, I saw that car that I’ve only have seen in the church parking lot.
“Whelp here we go.” I murmured.