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Muscadine Pie

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Muscadine Pie

Postby johnwalkeasy » Sat Mar 24, 2007 9:37 pm

Grandmama would always talk about when and where she grew up. Her family were Sharecroppers near Portadale Georgia in the Late 1800,s. She would tell me, my
brother Bill and my sister Rosemary about how her and her brother Sam would go out in the woods and pick Muscadines. They would make Wine, jams and pies. She would live with us from time to time. At Teckwood Projects thier were no woods. Just the tall buildings and streets of Atlanta.

I was 11 years old when my daddy was able to buy a house with the GI Bill. Rosemary was 13, Bill was 10.
And we moved from Atlanta out in the country. It was a new kind of world. Very few roads. Miles of farmland and woods. My grandmama said it looked just like when she was a girl. A few weeks after we moved into the new house
. Me my brother and sister went out to find Muscadines so grandmama could make some pies and other stuff.
We had walked to an old farm called Parker Ranch. It had some fields where cows used to be. Bob wire fiences and woods. We each had a bucket to put the muscadines in. Grandmama had told us what they looked like and how we could find them. As we were walking and looking we seen someone.
It was a boy who had been fishing I think at a lake nearby. He looked to be about 15 or 16 years old. He was a few inchs taller and about 20 or 30 lbs heaver than me. He came to where we were. He was talken nice and seem to be okay. We talked a while. But For some reason I did,nt trust him. I did.nt like the way he was looking at Rosemary. He said he knew where a lot of muscadines were at.
He sugested me and my other take a look down by the lake. And he would stay here and talk to my sister. He pointed the way.
What was in my mind at the time is that he wanted to be alone with Rosemary so he could try somthing. My 1st impluse was to hit him in the head with my bucket.
But the bucket was not that big. I had seen a few big sticks laying on the ground as we had came walking this way. Just behind the pine trees. It was in the direction he had pointed to. I agreed. Acted like I was'nt thinking anything. My brother was reluctant. I kind of pulled him to me and said with a smile lets go look. We started walking , my
other seen a little mad. Kept looking back. We went behind the pine trees.

My brother said are you crazy. I said no. We need something better than the buckets. I picked up one of the big sticks and gave it to him. I picked up another for myseft. I said we go back now. If he trys anything, make sure Rosemary is out of the way before you swing the stick. We started back.
At that monment, we heard Rosemary scream. We ran back. He was on top of Rosemary. He was holding her on the ground with his knees on her arms. He held a knife at her throat.
I should had never left her alone with him. Did,nt think about him pulling a knife out. Did'nt think he would try to rape her.
Did,nt know what rape was. Did'nt know what murder was. Did'nt know what fear was. Did'nt know what rage was. Did'nt know I would want to kill someone.

I was sure Rosemary was going to be kill. I was sure that I was going to kill. He said put down the sticks and I,ll let her go. If you don,t, I'll kill her.
I said to my brother, don,t go behind him. And I said to him. You kill her, I,ll kill you. He said again, put the sticks down. I said no. You get up and walk away. You wont get hurt. If you hurt my sister, you will die.
I can take that stick away from you. You,ll have to kill me to do it.
My brother saids you can,t kill us both. One of us will kill you. Get off my sister. I was thinking to myseft, how fast could I swing. Could I knock him off before he could cut her throat.
I said to my brother don,t swing unless I do. He said again put down the sticks and I will leave you all alone. I said again. I,m not going to put down this stick. I will kill you if you hurt my sister.
He said if you back up a few feet I will get off of her. I said to bill let's back up a little. We backed up about 8 feet. He stood up,
bringing her up with him.
He still had the knife at her throat. I said to Rosemary, don,t move. I said to him, take the knife away from her throat.
He said I will if you back up more. I said no. I moved a little closer. I said take the knife away from her and walk away and you wont get hurt. He said I,ll take the knife away if one of you puts down the stick. I said to Bill, put down the stick.
Bill saids no. I said again, put your stick right in front of you on the ground. Bill put down his stick. The boy took the knife away from her throat and held it at his side. He still was holding on to Rosemary. He said put down your stick and I,ll walk away. I said I,ll never put this stick down. Get away from my sister. He ask, how do I know you wont try to hit me if I let her go. I said all I want is for you to go away. I don,t want anyone to get hurt. I just want you to leave.
He took his hand off my sisters shoulder and walked behid a few feet. I told Rosemary to walk to me. She ran to me and stood behind me. She was crying. I told Bill walk away from the stick. He walked over beside me. He started to back up.
I, my other and sister also backed away. He held his knife. I held my stick. There was about 30 feet betweed us. Then 40, 50, 60 or more. We stopped, he kept moving away faster and faster. He passed though a bob wire fence. And out of sight.
We started a fast walk. kept looking to make sure we was'nt being followed.Walked back to the road and started walking back home. All the time making sure he was'nt follwing us. We agreed not to tell mama and daddy about what had happen.
I told my brother not to let Rosemary out of his sight. I told him to get a kinfe and keep it on him at all times. I told Rosemary to also get a knife and keep it on her at all times. I did the same. For the next week or so I stayed with Rosemary at all times. I told her to never go into the woods again. And never be with any boy alone. She for her hold life was never to have a real relationship. She was married 3 times and died at age 52 alone in her house.
My brother went on to become a alcoholic. Said he would never have any kids. He never did. I went back to the woods. I would sit and wait. He never came my way.

The next summer me and my grandmama went in the woods and would fine Muscadines. I can still remember the smell of Muscadine pie. Did'nt know how good it was.
Perfection is what drives an artist.
The inability to achieve perfection is what creates a work of art.
John A. Barandon
http://steelbronze.vpweb.com
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Muscadine Pie

Postby ehoeveler » Sun Mar 25, 2007 3:01 am

A thrilling short story in the Georgia Gothic mode!
Thanks, ehoeveler
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Postby Erika Takacs » Sun Mar 25, 2007 9:08 pm

What a gifted storyteller you are! Do you tell these stories to your children and grandchildren? Erika
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Postby ehoeveler » Mon Mar 26, 2007 3:33 pm

With a little cleaning up, John, you could throw together a collection
of short stories a la the late Flannery O'connor, who's work I was just
turned on to! E
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Re: Muscadine Pie

Postby johnwalkeasy » Mon Feb 20, 2017 9:51 pm

Long time ago
Perfection is what drives an artist.
The inability to achieve perfection is what creates a work of art.
John A. Barandon
http://steelbronze.vpweb.com
User avatar
johnwalkeasy
 
Posts: 2648
Joined: Tue Jun 13, 2006 7:16 pm
Location: Rex, Georgia USA
Blog: View Blog (1)


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