Fiction:The Woman in the Holler

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 07 Mar 10 - 08:22 PM

After supper that night, Louie brought out his bass, and he, Sharon and Hank spent a low-key hour in the kitchen playing tunes until Hazel spoke up to say the kids needed to get to bed - they had school tomorrow. Hank had been playing guitar for a few years, and had recently taken up the fiddle. Sharon thought she might have the makings to be a fine old-time fiddler if she kept working at it, and told her so.

Sharon stood to put her guitar back in its case. "I'm gonna head on up the road myself, if you all don't mind. I'm pretty worn out from my trip."

"You gotta flashlight?" hazel asked, as she and Louie walked her to the door.

"In the glovebox. come on Abiram." The cat stood and stretched, then headed for Sharon's car.

"I oughter be able to get out of the shop by 'bout lunchtime tomorrow. Weather's s'posed to be good. If you want, I was thinkin' we could take a little hike around the farm.   Oh, and be sure you close the gate at the main road. don't MR. Hensley's cows gettin' out."

"I won't. And sounds good, Louie. Nite. Nite Hazel"

Hazel, backlit in the doorway to the house, raised her arm in acknowledgement.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 07 Mar 10 - 08:33 PM

Sharon didn't see any sign of the cows as she drove through the gate. The moon was half full and casting a fair amount of light, and she didn't need the flashlight to make sure the gate was securely closed behind her. Abiram had jumped out of the car after she drove through the gate, and trotted along in front of the car and to the side as she bounced through the ruts in the track through the pasture. He waited patiently while she got out of the car at the second gate, drove through, stopped, and got out a second time to close the gate. Then he ran ahead to the dark front porch of the old farmhouse.

Sharon didn't linger. She went straight into the house, sitting her guitar down beside the sofa in the living room. Abiram distained to enter. He had work to do outside. "It's going to be chilly tonight, and I don't intend to get back up once I'm in bed. If you're coming in, come in now." Abiram looked up at her, meowed, then turned and disappeared down the porch steps.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 07 Mar 10 - 09:33 PM

Playing with Louie and Hank to night, Sharon realized that she had probably lost a bit of the touch and feel of a true old-time Appalachian fiddler. Her fiddling technique had moved more toward Texas swing and Zydeco over the years. She was briefly tempted to pull out the fiddle, then thought better of it. She really was too pooped to pop. Before heading for bed she called for Abiram, in case he wanted in. He appeared when she stepped out onto the porch, and wove himself around her ankles a few times, but when she bent to pick him up, he wriggled free and moved away to the far corner, tail twitching in irritation.

"Your call," she said, and stepped back into the house, closing the door behind her. She settled in under the comforter in the downstairs bedroom, murmuring "Nite ladies," as she switched off the lamp.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 13 Mar 10 - 02:27 AM

"Any visitors last night?" Louie inquired while he watched her finish packing a couple of sandwiches into the small backpack

"Nope. Good thing, too. I was plumb worn out."

Louie nodded, but his brow furrowed. "Well, I'm glad you got the rest you needed. Mebbe they were just respecting that.   I just--never mind - forgot what I was going to say."

Sharon glanced up from lacing her boots, eyebrows raised in question, but Louie only shook his head and shrugged.

"Ready," she said, shrugging into the pack.

Louie pulled the back door closed, and they headed out. Third ran out ahead of them as they followed the creek, the way getting more narrow and steep as they climbed. The creek itself petered out as they scrambled higher up the steep, narrow defile. In spring, the rocks they sometimes scrambled over, and sometimes were able to use like stair-steps, would be transformed into small waterfalls. In late September, there was no running or pooling water this high up, but still enough dampness to keep the moss and lichens growing on the rocks green. Third was right with them now. Abiram had followed them as they set out on their hike, but soon headed up the east slope. Sharon figured he would meet them sometime time after they reached the top of the ridge.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: MMario
Date: 22 Jun 10 - 09:52 AM

How did I miss this im march?

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Leadfingers
Date: 22 Jun 10 - 04:28 PM

And there I as thinking we had further instalments !

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Gweltas
Date: 23 Jun 10 - 12:13 AM

Only found this today and read the whole way through and really enjoyed it. Thanks Janie and MMario. However, I am hoping that there will be further instalments really soon............hint hint !! This needs to become a book !!
Very Best Wishes,
Anne XX

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: MMario
Date: 23 Jun 10 - 09:15 AM

Abiram padded softly up the hillside, winding his way around trees and bushes; luxuriating in the moist green scents. Coyote wouldn't believe the scents; if he were here.

Maybe he could link with the elder spirit and allow it the use of his nose? No; he remembered now, Coyote had told several tales of when the desert around Tulsa had been green and fertile; no need to show him something he knew about. Though the temptation to link with the faint sense of being in the west; to allow his mentor to check the wards Abiram had renewed last night was great. Or perhaps he should link with the much stronger and nearer presence; introduce himself to Isis; or rather re-introduce himself...he had some recollection of her guiding him during his kittenhood.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: MMario
Date: 23 Jun 10 - 09:50 AM

And in that other direction he could only sense, not travel, Abiriam perceived the welcoming warmth pervading the land within his wards. It was strongest at several points; the cabin, the cemetary, and at the crest of the ridge ahead. A warmth with a distinct feeling of ownership, with overtones of quasi-maternity and the occasional foray into what seemed to be distinctly feline notes. Abiram had never encountered anything quite like it; and made a mental note to consult those with more experience.

The closest he had felt to what filled the land about him was what he had felt the day Coyote had taken him to an old Pueble to meet Kocopelli

And - as if summoned by that thought; a faint hint of flute music wafted from the ridge ahead.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: MMario
Date: 23 Jun 10 - 10:48 AM


In the darkness, no light. no warmth.

Forcing the boundaries. pain, burning;

HUNGER!

another attempt; like acid it burns

it divides it's efforts. one portion circles the minute seed of power just beginning to grow within the steel hard walls of parental love and layer after layer of other protections. not a crack.

the other probes again and again at larger boundaries. recoils from the wounds, salves the burns in the deep earth, far below the extent of the warding powers.

Again. the hunger burns almost as badly as the attempts on the wards.

the parts join once more. hatred. hunger. fear.....
NO!
no fear!
NO fear. HUNGER!

a tendril follows minute cracks in the rock, flows through pores as do the gases of the earth, flows and follows the paths.

Here.

a pipe pierces the wards. and

there....

not a breach, but a weakness.

and there, the same pipe, going through the wooden walls.

A mold spore, black like the darkness. black as ptich, black as evil.

Focus. Encourage the mold into growth.

[NO! growth burns!! WRECK! EAT! HUNGER! ]

Destruction in growth. slow. subtle. the one who cast the wards is young. it will not suspect the subtlety.

The mold adds another cell, pulling nutrients from the wood, weakening wood and ward by minute increments.

they will not suspect.

darkness.

hunger....

anticipation.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 23 Jun 10 - 11:01 PM

"If I could a took off the whole day I'd 'a brought a couple picks and feed sacks so we could dig a little cohosh and wild yam," said Louie. "Another few days and the tops will be too gone to find 'em. I did get a little goldenseal and ginseng earlier, but there ain't much of either left. I been orderin' roots and plantin' em' when I dig the last few years, but don't know as it is helpin'. I can't get up here enough to keep the Elmores and and the Adkins from crossin' over the ridge to poach.   Some feller lives at Frog Pond, Tennessee sells the roots and the seeds both. Frog Pond. That name tickles me. See over there where the slope is not so steep? On the other side of the deadfall? Look, see that big tree trunk all covered with moss? Anyway, that shelf there used to be covered with goldenseal."

"Is there anything left of the still?"

Louie shook his head. "No." There was a long pause before he continued, "I don't think I am gonna get out of this one, Sharon... But we'll pow-wow about that later, you and Hazel, Big Bill, Homer - did I tell you I switched and hired Homer for my defense attorney? and Billy - like it or not, Sharon, the farm could be at stake. You all ain't the Hatfields and McCoys . You was the one stupid enough to undo what Cassie and Cathy wanted by deeding over your half to Billy. Big Bill seen his mistake a long time ago, but can't speak against Billy. Hell, they both know they done wrong. You did to, Sharon, by caving into your hurt pride like they did. Cathy expected better of you.

"Course, Cathy should a told everybody what was coming and the whys. She was a might cowardly about that in my view. Don't get me wrong, I understand. If I was in your shoes I maybe would have done the same.

"I take that back. I would not have done the same. Seems like I am the only one of the lot that understands what keeping this little patch of mountain holler and hill means. To get rid of his shame, Billy wants to allow exploration for coal. He sees the money bein' made just across Coal Mountain by the Wheelers who sold their mineral rights, and in in his drunken brain thinks erasing this place will erase his shame. I'm all that stands in the way."

Sharon stared at him, shock and anger clear in her expression.

He stared right back for a long moment, then looked away. "But then, I was the one stupid enough to get busted. I don't know what we can do, Sharon. But we gotta try to do something."

Sharon said nothing, but gestured up the hill. The rest of the climb was made in strained silence.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 24 Jun 10 - 12:15 AM

Strained by lack of breath, anyways, as they made the final, steep scramble to the top of ridge.

As she hauled herself up the last hundred yards of the steep ravine, Sharon allowed her senses to fully open to the rugged, ancient hill, a formidable mountain at one time, eons before the western mountains had been shoved up to form the Rockies. She thought about this low ridge, a hard steep climb going straight up as they had chosen to do, but probably not even close to 1500 feet above sea level. Not technically part of the mountains, but on the Appalachian plateau.   For now.    She pondered how many billions of tons of rock and soil and leaf mold, trillions or more tons, really, from this ancient place had washed down the watersheds of the New/Kanawha, the Ohio, the Mississippi, to the Gulf.    How low had this land been when it had been sea? Deep sea. Deep enough for trilobites.   How high had this land been when the pressures beneath the crust had belched and farted the sea floor up toward the sky? How deep would one have to dig into the sea floor, or the Mississippi delta, to touch the leavings of this ancient, ancient mountain, now only a rugged hill among rugged hills.

Too old, too ancient for any person to comprehend. Must have scared the hell out of the fey folk who somehow, and most likely unintentionally, encountered and found themselves channeling some of that magic.   



The grave yard stood about 200 feet ahead of them, at the very top of the low ridge.

Sharon wrapped an arm around Louie's shoulder. " Let's just be right now. The mess can wait."

Abiram had been waiting for them under the lilac. He sat up and began preening, pretending that Third was not there at all.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 13 Aug 10 - 09:36 PM

Down along the roadside in the holler there were still lots of white and lavender asters, and even a few bidens blooming in the ditches. Up here on top of the cleared ridge, there had already been a couple of hard frosts. All the fall flowers in and immediately around the graveyard had been frost killed. The ridge was girded by the forest, however, and along that edge blue wood asters, some late goldenrod, and even a bit of ironweed still bloomed. Billy brush-hogged the graveyard itself 3 or four times a year, and the hardy grass was green as a lush pasture in the cooler temperatures of fall. Up against the gravestones, protected from early frost by the sun-warmed granite, chickweed formed pillowly mounds at the base of the markers.

They made a quick homage at Cassie and Kathy's markers, then parked themselves in the center of the cemetery enjoy their lunch. They sat there in the fall sun, not avoiding anything, just being. The surrounding hills were awash in color. The annual swan song of the forested hills. To be sure, all those trees were second, even third growth.

"Does that matter?" Sharon wondered outloud. "Had they never been clear-cut at all, a substantial population would still have been at least 2nd growth. Nothing lives forever, after-all. Before the hills and trees were towering mountains, so steep and sharp and severe that only bare faced rock and alpine plants were there. Before that were swamps and seas. Before that, who knows? After the seas, and at intervals throughout the long ages when towering new mountains were shoved up, only to slowly wash down creeks and rivers to seas, glaciers descended, moved,knocked down ancient virgin forests, carved out highland glades. Gaia."

"Do tell," said Billy. "Like you say, it doesn't matter. What is now, is now. That's good enough for me. If I got to explain where I am comin' from with what I say next, yer answer ought to be no. If I don't have to explain where I am coming from, your answer ought to be yes.

"I'm thinkin' we are supposed to get nekkid and let nature take it's course. I don't think it is about lust or breakin' my marriage vows. I don't even know that gettin' nekkid will result in any activity most folks, especially my wife Hazel who I love dearly, would disapprove of. I don't know what I am sayin' or thinkin', Sharon. I'm just sayin' what is comin' to me to say.




Or does it?

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 24 Nov 10 - 01:44 AM

Sharon looked at him, eyebrows raised, and said, "No explanation needed. No way Jose. No explanation needed or offered here either."

They grinned at each other in understanding, then shifted to face the early afternoon sun, shoulders leaning comfortably together in support. Louie's face showed a little disappointment but no trace of pout or wounded ego.

At least, that is how Sharon chose to read him.

Subject: RE: Fiction:The Woman in the Holler
From: Janie
Date: 26 Mar 18 - 02:05 PM

A tall, dark-blonde young man with deeply blue eyes under startling black lashes turned slowly, his eyes surveying the rather desolate acres of the popular ATV park from the mound of rubble on which he stood. The green forested hills and mountain rills that once were here were gone. Even so, here and there hardy cedar and sumac saplings poked up, and tenacious weeds were establishing footholds. Up in the sun where the rubble was fine and dirt-like, mullein was just starting to send up what would become tall flower stalks, and coltsfoot covered a steep clay bank. Both well established but originally invasive plants from Europe. The same could be said for his ancestors. Over to the left, a mountaintop spring had managed to seep its way to the surface once again. A person with imagination, which he had, could see they were witnessing the rebirth of a mountain stream - at least if nothing else happened unnatural to the land over the next 50-100 years.

The old family graveyard had apparently been bulldozed and/or blasted to smithereens several years ago - assuming, of course, he was in or near the right spot. No way to be sure, given the gaps in the family oral history. He did know he was at least in the vicinity, having definitely located the foundations of the old house much further down the holler where the fill from the mountaintop mine had not reached except to diminish the flow of the creek and kill off most of the creek-dwelling fauna.

The fading leaves of daffodils, a few old apple trees and a blooming, old lilac shrub had helped him know where to look to find the stone outline of the old place. From there he had climbed, at first able to follow the remnants of the old creek before it disappeared under the thousands, maybe millions of tons of tailings from the played out surface mine at what had once been the top of the ridge behind the house.

Late the previous afternoon, near the top of the now truncated ridge, he had marked his location with his GPS, then turned back and retraced his steps while he still had daylight to do so. He wasn't a nostalgic person, but did have a sense of family obligation, plus liked a bit of an outdoor challenge. He had spent the night in a bivy sack near the lilac bush and had been surprised and pleased to have the company of an old tomcat that had appeared out of nowhere. Now, at midday on the rented ATV, he figured he was as near as he was likely to be able to figure to get to where his mom's people were buried. He reached into a side pocket of the backpack he had strapped onto the back of the 4 wheeler and pulled out the mason jar of ashes, dumped them without much ceremony onto the scree, watching as some of the ashes were carried away by the light wind, and as the rest sifted down among the rocks and boulders.

He had 2 days before he needed to be back in North Carolina for work, and since he had spent his scarce money to rent the ATV and had never had the experience before, decided to enjoy the rest of his time. Machines really weren't his thing, but always up for trying something new. One last look at the wisps of ashes still carried on the breeze, one more glance at the ground, a quick text to his girlfriend and his aunt, and off he for a thrill ride. He'd done his duty. May as well have some fun.

Very low, under the sound of the ATV engine, he caught what may have been the sound of a flute.

The End.