Mrs. Beans said as he passed with a wheelbarrow full of clippings, she sun bathing on a huge towel in the front yard---a sight to be avoided---that it was hotter than Hades. He without stopping said, Hell is made of ice. She asked him what he meant and as he passed he replied,Ive been there, and continued on his way. His strangeness rattled her to the point she kept her snub-nosed 38 close at hand even having it bundled up in a towel next to her. His oddity had been evident from the beginning. The first morning after he arrived she found a piece of notebook paper thumb tacked to her screen door in a barely legible scrawl. She thinking it might be a suicide note went to the bedside table where she kept her reading classes and began to decipher the notes contents. He had written: This is an example of the kind of poems I will write under the sacred trees and by its sacred rivers. I wrote it last evening by the Green River on the other side of the wood in view of the tower on the hill. The poem itself was scribbled to such an extent she couldnt make out a word. Later that morning as she was leaving for a trip into town walking out on her porch she saw John Henry digging a hole down the slope of her yard near the small grove of pines. She said in a loud voice, What are you doing? He looked up at her and said, Just practicing. She becoming immediately frantic went back inside and scurried to the telephone and called Bea. She answered saying, This heres Bea, what can I do you for? Its Beverly. Youve got to get over here right away. I think that man is going to kill me and bury me in the front yard! Calm down Beverly, Ill be right over. Have you taken your pills this morning? You know how you git. Mrs.Beans hung up, walked to the living room where she kept her two shotguns hidden under the couch, grabbed one of them, cracked it open to make sure it was loaded then walked into her bedroom and hid in her closet. Excerpt from THE CAVE PAINTER
Posted on: Thu, 13 Mar 2014 12:16:12 +0000
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