DIXIE
The Inland Brothers Wrecking Yard
was already retrieving the scrap. Scouring
like horses, they'd worked hard enough and
already had filled two bins. Nowhere to
go but down. The ladies in the jelly hats
were passing out drinks - something cold -
to anyone who wanted one. All takers all.
On one side, by the corner, were stacked only
the wood re-usable, good enough for future
reconstruction. All the rest of the charred
remains were dumpster-bound. Harlen Hikes,
one of the previous owners, had stopped by.
He'd said: 'A long time ago, I can remember
when my Granddaddy and my daddy built this
place, must'a been 'bout 1947. Previous to that,
of course, and of course too, this IS after all
Dixie, this site had been a Nigra whipping ground,
where all the Hikes' children was taken too to watch
any malfeasant (as we had t'call them then) get his
punishment. I can remember hearing the stories,
though, truth b'told, I never myself had to witness.
It was all over then by my days. The new house, this,
was built over the sores of all the old. And we alls
just carried on like it'd never happened at all. But
ain't it funny how so things can change. The up
now was once the down, and vice versa too.'
Old Harry stood firm, drinking slightly as he
talked - that crazy old, light lilt in his voice
reminded me always of the past. And
before I knew, it was over and gone.
What once was a house there, was
now going to be a pond. Up to
down and, down to up again,
I'd guess to say anyway.
The Inland Brothers Wrecking Yard
was already retrieving the scrap. Scouring
like horses, they'd worked hard enough and
already had filled two bins. Nowhere to
go but down. The ladies in the jelly hats
were passing out drinks - something cold -
to anyone who wanted one. All takers all.
On one side, by the corner, were stacked only
the wood re-usable, good enough for future
reconstruction. All the rest of the charred
remains were dumpster-bound. Harlen Hikes,
one of the previous owners, had stopped by.
He'd said: 'A long time ago, I can remember
when my Granddaddy and my daddy built this
place, must'a been 'bout 1947. Previous to that,
of course, and of course too, this IS after all
Dixie, this site had been a Nigra whipping ground,
where all the Hikes' children was taken too to watch
any malfeasant (as we had t'call them then) get his
punishment. I can remember hearing the stories,
though, truth b'told, I never myself had to witness.
It was all over then by my days. The new house, this,
was built over the sores of all the old. And we alls
just carried on like it'd never happened at all. But
ain't it funny how so things can change. The up
now was once the down, and vice versa too.'
Old Harry stood firm, drinking slightly as he
talked - that crazy old, light lilt in his voice
reminded me always of the past. And
before I knew, it was over and gone.
What once was a house there, was
now going to be a pond. Up to
down and, down to up again,
I'd guess to say anyway.
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