|Wings of Heaven (standard:Inspirational stories, 3493 words)|
|Author: stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writer||Added: Apr 12 2007||Views/Reads: 2450/1577||Story 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)
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