Sweet Southern Trouble (Sample Only)

Sweet Southern Trouble: Prologue

Prologue: A Normal Type of Southern Town

At 349 feet above sea level and home to only 1,638 people, the little-known town of Protection sat off the bank of a small, muddy river. There wasn't much of interest in the community -- no outstanding architecture or landmarks -- yet the people here were proud of where they lived.

South of town, thick pine forests rose up to meet the rolling hills at the base of a smallish range of mountains.  To the east, farmers stretched out fields of soy beans, tomatoes, peaches and corn.  And the west end of the city limits bordered the fishing creeks and swamps that filtered off the river. Though, not as boggy and wet as other places, the land here bred some of the nastiest mosquitoes to suck the sweet nectar of the flesh since the dinosaur age, which lent speculation as to the real reason for the school’s mascot -- the Protection Fiends.

It went without saying that the summers in this small town were hot, sticky and humid enough to fry up a batch of pork rinds without skinning the hog first.  The springtime and autumns were damp and earthy as the lands were plowed over for either planting or harvesting, and the winters were unpredictable.  Most of the folks in Protection had been around long enough to recount particularly harsh or unusual seasons, but for the most part, the talk of the weather was about the same as anywhere else in the world.

Now, structurally speaking, two highways quartered the town, meeting at a pinprick of a stoplight near the police station while a mesh of narrow lanes branched out, creating neighborhoods and the largest geographical divisions amongst family members still living in town.  The oldest home still surviving was a two-story, yellow farmhouse structure located just past the First Baptist Church.  Depending on who you asked, it had been built in 1905 by either a wealthy French family, hoping to become timber barons in this uninhabited section of forested land, or by a riverboat gambler hiding his mistress and their love-child from her estranged husband.  In any event and unfortunately, a flu epidemic in 1913 wiped out the entire household, leaving a crop to be harvested and only a handful of unpaid workers to get the job done.  Today, it is the home of the infamously feuding couple, Willy and Carl Burgis, but they are only a small part of this story.

There were many other farmsteads in the area, too, newer ones, older ones.  However, the majority of the houses were post-War era suburban styles, ranging from quaint bungalows to standard ranches.  And of course, like any small town, Protection also had its share of mobile and modular homes.  This was the South, after all.

And although Protection was only a small town, it retained the basic necessities of any community -- a bank, a fuel and service station, a volunteer fire department, churches and a school.  Yet, being the only settled municipality for twenty miles, there was also a smallish library, a police station and post office, a hardware store, a diner and an assortment of other businesses that most simple folk needed to patron at least once on a monthly basis.

So, as far as first appearances were concerned, it was a normal type of country southern town, much too tame and stagnant for most of the young folk to remain here right after high school. Those that had the means and desire to do so usually ran away to bigger places and never returned.  Sometimes they left for college and came back on the holidays for a quick visit.  But mostly those boys and girls, finally old enough to escape Protection, left because their only other option was to stay there until the muddy ground took back their bodies.

Once gone, very few ever came back to stay.

But on a rare occasion, one did come back.  And furthermore, during these especially noteworthy events, a new citizen manifested among the townies and actually chose to stick around for a while.

The last time that happened, it was a Wednesday in July, according to the most accurate account of that day...but since this story relied on the blathering gossip of many mouths for the facts, some aspects might have been slightly altered.

This is that story.