Click here for nice stories main menu

main menu   |   standard categories   |   authors   |   new stories   |   search   |   links   |   settings   |   author tools


Wings of Heaven (standard:Inspirational stories, 3493 words)
Author: stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writerAdded: Apr 12 2007Views/Reads: 2181/1372Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
written with spirtual intent
 



Wings of heaven Backwood writer Stanley Mcqueen The ridges surrounding
our shack are steep , if you had ever been here in Muddy Fork county 
you would know just how steep, times here are hard most are corn 
farmers like my Father Webb short, the steep ridges are dotted with 
crude log shacks and what ground has been cleared is corn ground, mules 
and horses are used to do the farm work and to make a long story short 
, times here are primitive in the way of some parts of the world. Let 
me tell you just a little about me,,well for the most part I'm the only 
son born to mammy and pappy I am twenty two years old and I work part 
time at old man morris saw mill that sets at the base of little fox 
ridge. Mammy named me after one of her brothers im called Oliver, were 
Shorts by our last name, pappy owns our small sixty acres of land... 
and like ever small parcel of land around these parts are steep and 
hard to plow with the mule. Well let me get on with my story, it was 
Friday and I was getting off at near five a clock in the evening  and 
as I was leaving the sawmill I meet and old man on the wagon road that 
lead to my shack, I had seen the old ragged man all my life around the 
old backwoods wagon roads,, he was called old crazy York. People here 
and about said he was touched in the head, he was always real dirty and 
ragged. I felt sorry for him, I had often seen him digging in the junk 
heaps that folks had threw away along side the wagon roads.. I said 
howdy and he returned a big howdy back,, he had a old burlap sack on 
his back and it was full of something. Who might you be he asked ? Im 
Webb short son I reply “ I live up this hollow about a mile on down I 
tell him oh yea I helped you paw, dig spuds one years some times back 
he tells me ,and your paw is a kind soul he give me some 
potatoes,...and a dollar bill ... he brags... and then pulls from his 
shirt pocket a half smoked cigar and asked me if I had a light...  I 
give him a match and he lite the cigar and went to puffing on it, and a 
large blue cloud of smoke circled his head... folks think im crazy he 
spoke up , just because im strange in my ways he said” well boy I don't 
know how I come to be here in this place he explains “ one morning I 
woke up besides that old bridge that crosses into this county with a 
big lump on my head, and you know what boy I can  not recall a thing he 
said” if it had not been for your saw mill boss letting me live on that 
ridge that belongs to him I would not of had a place to stay..I could 
tell the old man was not right someway in this head, he asked me if I 
would like to visit his shack and see all his junk plunder that he has 
collected , with not work for me at the shack I said what the heck I go 
and take a look at his shack, I had known that old man morris let him 
squat on his land , I was thinking that he might of been a relative to 
him , but today I had learned different, I followed the old man up the 
path that lead into the ridge timberland and , and the path up to his 
shack was as slick as a ribbon by this many days of traveling back ant 
forth doing his junk hunting, as we went along he was talking to a 
fellow that was not with us and he was calling him tom, who you talking 
to I asked him ? It my friend tom can't you see him he stopped suddenly 
and said Tom goes about everywhere I go he been with me a long time he 
muttered” well I new right off his mind being dulled he was seeing in 
his mind a real fellow he called Tom, so I just went alone with him to 
humor the old fellow. Tom wants too, rest he said after we had walked 
pretty far,it was a long trip to the high ridge that he lived on.. The 
old man was a kind soul and I had been raised to never make fun of 
fable minded one he was just misunderstood people around here had used 
him to do nasty jobs, and just paind him what ever they wanted to 
..when we finely arrived at the old leaning shack that was surrounded 
by more junk than I had ever seen in my whole life. There was all kind 
of thing.. Mingled and piled alone the sides of the old leaning shack 
he stands there besides me with a child like look on Christmas 
morning,. There was among the stuff old dolls with arm ands legs 
missing , broken plates and old chairs and any thing that shined he 
had, collected, what do you attend to do with all this stuff I asked 
him as we stand gazing  at the mess that lay about the shack.. Well I 
just love stuff that is shiny he answered ‘ It”s a habit I guess to me 
is all something to do more or less he said ‘ and then he shows me and 
old rocking chair that has a rocker missing and he set down In the old 
ragged rocking chair and then asked me d I look like a king or 
something setting here, he marveled at this chair and said” to be this 
must of belong to a rich person he added” look at the fancy engravings 
that is carved on the works of it he said “ and run his hand over the 
cravings , someday im going to fix this rocker and move into my shack 
for a setting chair, and boy you haven't seen my garden he blurted” and 
then he lead me around the side of the ridge a little ways and I then 
was looking at a very good cleared peace of ground that was flush and 
full of potatoes, and green beans and such as a person would have in 


Click here to read the rest of this story (169 more lines)



Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writer has 82 active stories on this site.
Profile for stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writer, incl. all stories
Email: mcqueen@mail.com

stories in "Inspirational stories"   |   all stories by "stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writer"  






Nice Stories @ nicestories.com, support email: nice at nicestories dot com
Powered by StoryEngine v1.00 © 2000-2020 - Artware Internet Consultancy