THE BEAST FROM THE WOLF PEN HOLLOW Two little boys were seated at their mother’s feet on the floor of the back porch of the company house in Mill Hollow. A full moon brightly illuminated the grass and trees of their back yard. All of the house lights were off. Away in the distance little frogs sang and chirped and croaked at the small pond between Virgil Adams’ sawmill and the Edwight Presbyterian Church. “When I was seven years old,” she said, in a dreamy, wistful voice, “Arthur got sick and Mom sent me to Edwight to get some medicine for him. It was January, and the weather was crisp but not cold. I wrapped up in a sweater and a jacket and went. It was already a little dark, but there was a full moon on the rise. I walked fast, and was able to get the medicine before the store closed. The dirt road back home was full of potholes, but I could see well enough in the moonlight. Stringtown was mostly quiet, but you could every now and then hear a radio turned up playing music. The Stringtown tipple was all lit up, and thrashing and banging and clanging, as usual. I was a little hungry since I hadn’t eaten anything since the sandwich and little apple I had for lunch at our school. I walked on, going by the Sifers’ house, the Pettrys’ house, and the Germans’ house. I went across the railroad tracks into Hazy, Stringtown behind me. ************ End of part 1 - Based on a story told to me by my Mom, Sylvia Bradford.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 15:52:31 +0000
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