Bill Sketo

Ahoooo! Ahoooo! clackity, bang,
As I look up with a start,
my fork falls with a clang,
the misty vapor makes my eyes smart,
Who's there? Who's there? I ask
as I reach deep into my vest,
and pull out my half empty flask,
as he reached out, it put my heart to test,
and grabbed my liquor. "Sketo, Bill"
he shouted, as my whiskey he downed,
while he rested on the window sill,
give that back and leave me, I frowned,
or a rope I will find,
and a tree with a low limb
to hang you from behind,
and rename you Jim.
Take your spirits back from me,
all I wanted was a soul to scare,
and you wanted to find a tree,
just to show that you did not care,
Oh, but I do, I do and that is true,
as the air is clear and the moon is bright,
my liquor is not shared by you,
as you gave me such a fright.

Newton's Hole

Ah, here it is, finally. We have been waiting for this day all month. This has been building up for weeks now. Sheila and I, Charles and Maureen, Donnie and Thelma and Wayne and Paula have been visiting the cemeteries at night looking for ghosts. If there were any around, we probably scared them off. All of us would pile into my two door Chevy, drink beer and hit the back roads to the cemeteries. Oh, the lies we told and laughed at.



This Halloween fell on Saturday, with a full moon shining so bright that you could see forever. As we headed out to Mt. Carmel Methodist cemetery, Sheila was the designated driver, since she did not drink. We were going to check out the haunted grave of Bill Sketo. Charles Cook was telling us of the story of how Bill had been hanged as a deserter of the Confederacy, during the civil war. He was not a deserter, but the home guard was mean as hell and bored. The six members of the home guard were in a hurry to hang him and misjudged the height of the tree limb. Bill was a tall man and able to stand on his tip toes to avoid strangling. One of the lynch mob took a post oak limb and dug a hole under his feet. To this day, more than 130 years later, the hole could not be covered up. Legend has it that Bill Sketo comes by every night and cleans it out. Well, that whipped up our appetite for the adventure.



After we looked around the cemetery for awhile without seeing his ghost, someone suggested that we head off to Newton and find the hole. We all excitedly piled into the car and went to Newton. There next to the Choctawhatchee bridge we found the hole. As we got out of the car, we grabbed rocks, sticks and debris to fill up the hole. As soon as we had it filled, the moon went behind the clouds,and It became pitch black. We were surrounded by thick woods on all sides, and a small footpath was the only way out. The katydids were howling, the owls were hooting. We could see red eyes glaring at us from everywhere, and the air was thick as blood. And then the coyote with a sense of humor screamed at us from just inside the tree line. I had never heard Bill sketoe in my life, but I know that was surely him. Some one screamed and we all hauled butt. In the dark we were all lost and confused, running in all directions. Panic stricken, I ran into a tree, saw a blinding flash of light and fell into the hole.



I could feel the weight of the world pushing me down. The hole opened up and I started falling down the hot, dark hole. I screamed, but no one was there to hear me. I reached out to grab the rocks on the side to slop my fall, but they turned to loose sand. As I fell the darkness gave way to an eerie red glow. The heat was unbearable. After an eternity, I landed in a large pit and the sight was horrific, and the smell of sulfur and fresh blood left me in a dark despair. The sight and sound of demons biting off the head, arms and legs of the lost souls was terrifying. You could hear the bones snap and the muscles and tendons tear apart with screams. As the demon chewed, the parts grew back and the faces of the lost souls relaxed and peace returned for just a moment. Then the scene repeated itself.



If I lie very still, maybe no one will notice that I fell into hell. Oh shit, that large green toad with the red eyes and yellow teeth is glaring at me, with an evil gleam in his eye. With a quick leap of his frog legs, he had my head in his mouth. Before he could bite down, I screamed, "Lord help me!" a that moment, I awoke at the top of the hole.



Sheila was holding my bloody head in her lap. What happened?, I asked. You doofus, you knocked yourself out when you ran into the tree, she replied. Everyone was standing around laughing and talking about the fun we had just had. the sun was coming up in the east and dawn was fast approaching. As the rays of the sun touched the edge of the hole, all the stuff we had piled in began to disappear. It was deathly quiet and we all froze. No one moved and we watched in horror as the hole cleaned itself out. I was glad that Sheila had pulled me out of the hole before daylight, or I might still be in the bottomless pit.

COCK of the WALK

     In the spring of 1956, our family moved from my grandparents farm to the outskirts of Headland.  We rented a house from Mr. Joe Parrish.  This particular Saturday, mom was cleaning and dad was off with uncle Tex fishing.  They left it up to Wayne, who was ten, to look after me and Benny.  I guess for a while he did pretty well, but since he was all macho man, we had to head off to the Cock of the Walk fertilizer building.  It was the largest building I had ever seen.  One hundred feet high and wide and three hundred feet long.  It was made out of asbestos sheets for the roof and sides.  It had a walkway at the top that ran the length of the building, with a row of windows on each side.  Most of the panes were broken.  Not by us, we could throw rocks pretty well, but they were too far off for our young arms.  The train tracks were on the other side, and the loading dock ran the length of the building, with piles of pallets and cardboard.
    The big doors were locked, but as small children, we could slip between them and the building and go inside.  There it was, on the inside, was our personal playground.  The white powder bat guano was piled to the ceiling.  Three different piles, each just a shade different.  Wayne had been there before and knew to bring a piece of cardboard from the loading dock. Motioning for us to follow, he headed up the stairs to the cat walk.  That was the best thing we had ever done.  Our hearts were pounding from the excitement of breaking in and the height of the stairs.  We could barely contain ourselves.  The bat doo-doo was about five feet below the catwalk, and sloped to the bottom in a cone shape.  Wayne jumped with the cardboard, hit with a smack and started sliding downhill fast as lightening.  Benny and I jumped, but we did not have a cardboard sled.  We buried up to our knees in the white powder crap, and had to struggle to get to the bottom.  Wayne, however was going so fast that he could not stop.  Just as he reached the bottom, he rolled off head first, only feet away from smashing into the wall.  When we reached him, all we could see were his legs sticking out of the bat crap, and kicking like crazy, up and down.  We grabbed a leg each and pulled him out.  We were laughing at him and embarrassed as he was he bounced each of us on the side of our heads.  Smaller and younger, though we were, we bounced back.
     When we tired of blood and bat shit, Wayne showed us some dynamite that they used to break up the guano when it clumped together.  Now at this moment, fifty four years later, I know what happened to the windows.  It also explains why we could slip inside the doors.  Wonder if the building is still standing.  Wayne was smart enough to take only the blasting caps and fuses.  I think he knew that the dynamite was too dangerous.  On the loading dock was a three foot length of 2" pipe, a cinder block and an unlimited supply of rocks from the train tracks.  And every kid worth his salt, had a cigarette  lighter.  Well with all these ingredients for a fun filled Saturday afternoon, what could possibly go wrong?
     Instead of aiming the primitive mortar across the tracks to the empty field, Wayne pointed it at the White's house, a quarter mile away.   Wayne lit the fuse to the blasting cap, dropped it into the pipe, Benny dropped in a big rock and I got the hell out of the way.  No need to worry, the rock came out the end of the pipe pretty as you please.  You could see it flow through the sky and land on the tin roof of the White's house with a loud bang.  They scattered out of there like red wasps coming off the nest when you hit it with a corncob.  They heard thunder and the sky fell on them.  They were hauling ass somewhere, but where?  They never figured out what happened.  Are you going to tell them?  I sure as heck ain't.

Wild Hog

      I know that this a status, not a diary, but it is also a good place to post my stories.  This one is my entry for the September competition in writeandreview.webs.com.  The category is dreams or nightmares.  I thought some of you might like it.

     Hon, will you turn off the light when you come to bed?  Phil did not really expect an answer from Mary.  He knew that she would.  Through all the pain and suffering she was his one constant rock.  That and Joe, his best friend from grade school.  Oh, the things that they had done.  No wonder they were always in so much trouble.  Joe had married Sheila and moved in down the lane.  For Phil that was the best thing that could have ever happened.
     As he was drifting off to sleep he was giving thanks for all his many blessings. When sleep overtook him, he began to walk down the path in the field, to the woods, where Joe lived.  Rain was dripping on his face and he could feel the chill.  Wonderful!  He had never felt so alive.  His senses were on fire, almost as if he knew what was about to happen just seconds before it actually did.  A quick jump to the side, he landed nimbly on his feet as the ferrule boar rushed by.  He had heard him coming and his body, acting as a fine magnificent clockwork, moved in perfect timing to avoid the sharp tusks.  As the boar, fuming from the miss, turned around and charged again.  Phil reached up and grabbed the limb over his head.  Pulling his legs up just inches from danger, he teased that old hog until he finally tired and ran off.  Hopping, skipping and laughing, down the lane, without tiring, he eventually made it to Joe's house.
     Tapping lightly on the door, he waited patiently for an answer.  Sheila slowly made her way to the door and opened it.  Hey girl, how's Joe doing this fine morning?  Doing better Phil, he's already dressed and waiting for you, she replied.  Good, let's go get him.  Joe, you ready? I asked.  Yeah, he replied, just help me into this damn wheelchair and we will be off.
     Phil could tell that he was putting up a brave front.  That was him as he had always been, strong and brave.  As we strolled down the lane, that old hog came after us again.  With just a wave of his semi-useful hand, he just whisked that old hog away.  Thanks Joe, I am really tired of that old swine.  The light awakened Phil with a start.  What is it Mary?, he asked.  You were squealing with joy and it awakened me.  Were you having that dream again?  Yeah, Mary I did, he replied.  And the best part was when I picked you up in my arms, lay you on the bed and we made wild passionate love.  Just wait until Joe comes to help me into my wheelchair in the morning.  I'll bet that he will tell us about his nightmare.        

Life

     As hard as it is, I am going to take the advice that was so rudely given to me.  "Quit feeling sorry for yourself, get over it, and move on with your life."  Through the strength and grace of my Lord and Savior, I will.  Through Him, all things are possible, even this.  With the weight of the world on His shoulders, when He  was on the cross, He could still see me & Sheila, Ashley & Jason, Natalie & Justin, Paul & Jeanette, and He knew that His grace was sufficient to heal us 
     Some of the fiery darts of the wicked get past my shield of faith and infect my soul.  The corruption comes out my mouth as character assassination and cursing.  He washes me daily and I wallow in the filth of self-pity and have to be washed again.  Just like the yard dog that gets a bath, then rolls in the dirt and has to be washed again.  All tribulation has an expiration date and this too will end.

HELL AND BACK AGAIN

     There's that stupid alarm clock again.  It's almost daylight and all I have done is toss and turn all night.  Dozing, between turns, I would dream of the coolness of the past.  There you could walk down tree lined paths in the shade, during the middle of the day, and enjoy the cool breeze hitting you in the face.  Because it was a dream, it was not strong enough to hold.  The oppressive heat is stronger and wakes you up.  The night is always aglow with a soft orange light.  The light along with the heat is terrible.  I long for the days before the world was knocked off its tilt, by the two volcanoes erupting at the same time.
     Then you could get cool even in the summer.  Cities were bustling, busy with people walking to and fro.  Some even had bicycles and rode in the streets, where automobiles once ruled.  It was hard for us to kick the oil addiction, but as with any addiction, you feel so much better when it is over.  It was a hard sell to convince the world community that fossil fuels were destroying the world.  When public opinion got behind the movement, people slowly began to walk wherever they went.  More and more people joined in and after a few years, cars were very seldom used.  The benefits were immediate.  Obesity was over, diabetes, cancer and heart disease were almost unheard of.
     With the population feeling better and the oxygen levels going up, people began to be nicer and crime was down.  Now there was no need for drugs to help you cope with life's problems.  Life had slowed to a pace that people could keep up with.  I can barely remember those days as I was just a small child.  Our parents would sit all of us down in the afternoons and tell us of water filled pools.  I can not imagine that much water in one place.  They would tell us of the way things were before the eruptions.  I guess that is why I have such vivid dreams at night.
     No one wants to wake and face the day.  We don't walk around during the day anymore.  It is so hot that bums have a new way to light their cigarettes.  All they do is hold them up to the sky and the tip bursts into flames.  The only way to do it, since all the matches caught fire long ago.  As I go outside, I begin to hear the sounds of the day, people stirring, footsteps clicking on the hot sidewalk, the frustrated greetings of the neighbors.  "How's the weather out there today, Bob?" asks Joe, the clerk at the newsstand.  "Hot as hell, Joe", I replied.  Looking at me with a disgusted expression on his face, he answered.  "If hell is this hot, I don't want to go."
    As I walked down the street, trying to stay on the shady side, I could see that the heat had already stirred up anger and resentment.  It was if you were locked up in a small room with no air and the walls painted a bright red.  Two men were fighting in the street.  How can they do that?  Any movement and exertion only made the heat worse.  One of them pulled a knife and threw it at his opponent.  "You asshole!" he screamed as he sidestepped the knife.  As he stepped, he pulled a small .380 automatic from his pocket and fired, killing his foe instantly.  We were all so accustomed to this violence that we did not even flinch.  The street cleaners would be along soon enough and clean up the mess.  The guy with the gun just faded away into the crowd.  If anyone knew him, they would never tell the police.  The cops did not care anyway.  All they cared about was finding a cool spot.  If they had to investigate every killing, they would be in the heat all day.
     Damn, when I got to my office, I could see right away, there would be no air conditioning today.  Mary was sitting at her desk with fire in her eyes, makeup and mascara streaming down her face.  The legal pad that she was using as a fan just made it bearable.  The air that she moved with it was hot and almost unbearable, however stopping would allow the heat to stifle you.  As I slowly trudged up the stairs, all I could think of was getting back to my restless sleep and perhaps dreaming of the coolness again.  When are they ever going to fix the stinking elevator?  All it is used for now is a urinal, since it is closer than the toilet and takes less energy to get to.  The stench is unbearable at this early hour and will only get worse as the day goes along, since there is no way to get fresh air into the building.  The smell of urine and unwashed bodies makes me wonder why we come to work at all.  After all, we don't do anything and we don't get paid.  Even as I ask myself this question, I already know the answer.  We have to have some semblance of order in our lives.  If we stay home and do nothing, we will not be able to remain sane.  At least this way, we feel as if we are doing something.
     What is that noise?  I look up with apprehension and see George, half running and half falling down the stairs.  I start to speak to him, but from the looks of him, I know better.  The heat has finally gotten to him.  His eyes are all crazy and blood red, foaming at the mouth and beating himself on the chest.  I move to the wall and am quiet as I can be.  I do not want to draw attention to myself, as that could be fatal.  As he stumbles by, I can tell that he probably won't make it to the lobby.  Yep, sure enough he falls dead at the bottom of the landing.  God, I hope that the cleaners feel like doing their job today and move him before the stench gets to bad. As I sit down at my desk, on my broken chair, my, spirits are at an all time low.  My chair is broken because I try to break the window with it every so often.  All to no avail.  Knowing that no one will come in all day and the phone will not ring, ever again, I sit with my head in my hands.
     I can feel the cool breeze in the air.  So refreshing.  Is that rain?  When was the last time that happened?  All my cares melt away as I enjoy the ice cream, that I am holding.  All the workers come by the door, the clatter and chatter is lively and upbeat.  I haven't heard pleasant conversation in years.  Everyone has a cool drink in their hands.  Some even have ice cream cones.  Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, what a glorious sight.  Laughing, joking,  How are you today Bob?,  Good to see you George.  He looked as if he had never fallen down the stairs.  The air conditioner was working, people were going up and down on the elevator, phones were ringing off the hook.  I am so glad that life is back to normal.  I am not even missing my hot apartment and dread leaving work.
     As the day ends and I head back home, the street is cool, with shades on both sides, people are laughing and talking, involved in conversation with neighbors and friends.  As I pass Joe at the newsstand, he throws up his hand and asks "Hows the weather today Bob?"  "Just wonderful" I replied.  He smiled and greeted George as he came down the street.  Tonight I am going to get a glorious night's
sleep, just like a log, not even turning over.  what a wonderful life.
     I am awakened  from my nap, by the rapid fire shots of the .380 automatic.  The man from the fight had found his way into our building.  My heart is beating out of my chest, my mind still in a fog from the nap, I had just taken.  What can I do?  It is to hot to hide under the desk, and there is nowhere else to hide.  There he is!!  Standing at the door pointing that little gun at me.  With no expression on his face, no life in his eyes and a hot soul, my heart stopped as he squeezed the trigger.  I sat there dumbfounded as the firing pin made a metallic snap as it hit an empty chamber.  I started to laugh hysterically with relief.  That shocked him back to reality.  When he realized what he was doing, he threw the gun to the floor. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry", he sobbed.  "Don't worry" I replied as I slowly got up from the brown spot and walked over to where the gun lay.  As I reached to pick it up, anger consumed me.  Burning up, I flung it against the window with all my might.  The window exploded with a shower of glass and the wind came rushing in, refreshing me and causing the anger to subside.  The wind was cool to my face.  As I looked out the orange glow was gone, the stars were back in place.  The noise from down in the street was different.  What was going on?  Could it be that Mars has shifted back into it's normal tilt?

Eternal Bond

    From the beginning, it was a love-hate relationship.  I knew that things would be hard between us.  From as far back as I could remember, even to my young childhood, he was there.  Always acting superior, acting as if he were ashamed of me.  Always knowing what I was going to say and what I was going to do, even before I did.  He always let it be known that I was a burden to him that he had to carry around and look after.  Always trying to get away from me, always looking up.  He  always told me "look up for your redemption draweth nigh."    
     Being the person that I was, I tried to ignore him and do things my way.  He was always there, pointing out my shortcomings, encouraging me to do better, to be more like him.  Try as I might, I could not.  All I wanted to do was join the in crowd, drink the most, cuss the most, smoke the most and to be the meanest.  Always picking on the underdog, kicking him while he was down, never giving him a chance to recover, or helping him to his feet.  Even after doing all that, he never condemned me, but chided me and made me feel bad for the way that I acted.
     Many times, after a long night of drinking, finally passing out in some desolate, God forsaken place, he would look after me.  Not letting any harm come to me during my drunken stupor.  After coming to and feeling like shit on a stick, I could hear him, off to the side, gently berating me for the way that I carried on. I tried to ignore him, but he was always there, always talking.  Lord help me, don't you ever shut up?  No, he replied, it is my job and duty to never leave you alone.  For years, I tried to put him out of my mind, but he was always there, needling me every chance that he got.  Do this, do that, don't do this, don't do that.  If you do this you will surely die.
     As I grew older, his voice and presence became stronger and closer.  I began to listen to him, and came to feel that he was a friend, and not the enemy.  Eventually we made peace.  I was glad that he was there, always around, giving me advice and insight to problems that arose.  You know, I found out and accepted the fact that he was superior and it did not bother me anymore.  Actually that knowledge was comforting to me, knowing that after all these years my best interest was his primary concern.
     As I near the end of my life, he and I are inseparable.  Every trial and torment, we go through together.  Isn't that the way that it should be?  I know that I don't have long for this world and I begin to worry about what will happen to him after I am dead.  What happens to you, I ask, if I am burned, smashed to bits or drown in the ocean?  If my body cannot be found.  Will that happen to you as well?  No, he replied, even though we have been inseparable all these years, we are completely different.  You are made from the dust of the earth and to the dust of the earth, you will return.  I on the other hand came from the breath of God, and at your death, that is where I will return.  At the appropriate time, when the trumpet sounds and our Father tells His Son, "Son, go and get your bride."   Regardless of where you are or what shape your body is in, even if it is cremated, you will rise to be with the Lord forever.  There, we will be joined together again for eternity.  You will have a glorified body, with no aches or pains or infirmities. As I slip from life, I am comforted by the knowledge that however long I am separated by death from God, Jesus, and my soul that one day we will be reunited.  Thank you Father for the breath of life.  In my youth he was a burden, in my midlife he began to carry me, and at the end he carried in his arms.  When I turned loose at the end, he just floated up toward the heavens and out of sight.