Vicky Ashley
Stories (6/0)
My Father
This is a story about my father. Born in a small town in Alabama into a poor working-class family. The family had to move around in search of work. Farm labor mostly. The family had to chop and pick cotton on these farms they moved to. It was said that there were even times they had to live in tents, cook from an open fire and make their own lye soap. Washing dirty clothes in a large caldron using a wash board to scrub the stains out. Even though the family was from Alabama they finally settled in a small town in Arkansas. This small town was a farming community with promise of work nearly year-round. In this town there was a school and the only way to get there was to walk nearly five miles both ways. This put a lot of pressure on the knees and the mother had to rub them every night to help ease the pain. The family would go to bed early, before the sun went down to getting up at four in the morning to start the next day's work scheduler. The job was easier to do in the early morning hours just before sunrise than to wait until the sun was high in the sky to start the day. Wearing straw hats to shade the face and long sleeve shirts to protect the arms from the burning sun. This was the job they were getting paid for and they made sure the job got done. It was hard, tedious, sweaty work, swinging a hoe from sun up to nearly sundown, only stopping to sharpen the hoe when the blade got dull and for lunch. Once you are in the middle of that cotton field and thinking you are going to die before you reach the end just to be able to get that cool drink of water. Once your thrust is satisfied you start again headed for the other end that seems like it is going to last forever, but this was all they knew. They had done it with their parents and now they were now doing it as parents. Times were extremely hard and school came in second place. If you were able to go to school it didn’t last long because the money was needed more. A person isn’t going to get far with only a fourth-grade education. The only way out was to get married if you could find someone which was hard to do when all you see is a cotton field every day. But love did come and life got a little better. The first few years was spent travelling away from Arkansas to Oklahoma, Delaware, South Carolina and sometimes back to Arkansas. In the beginning it was a good life until the kids started coming. Four in all, two boys and then two girls. Then death. Cancer took my father out at the age of sixty-two. You see, my father died when I was just three years old. I never got to know him or his family. All I do know about him is that he was born in Oklahoma, was married before and had a daughter, worked as a welder, graduated the eighth grade and was part Creek Indian on his mother's side of the family. After his death my mother became both my Momma and Daddy at the age of thirty-one. She had no way of going back to the cotton fields because of us kids. All she had to survive on was my Fathers Social Security she received after his death. My Mother never took was camping but she did load us up in the old station wagon, buy two dollars' worth of gas, buy us an ice-cream cone from Faye’s Fine Dinner and ride to the river and watch the barges go by. When we got older, she would take us back to the river and we would bbq, hamburger's, wieners and drink coke. Afterwards we would make our way down to the river to fish. Sometimes we would catch a fish and sometimes we didn’t. She showed us how to make a small fire and roast marshmallows and wieners on a stick. Bring out a sheet so we could lay on it and look up at the stars until it was bed time. Other times she would drive out towards a small neighboring town called Wilson after we visited my father's grave. She loved driving out there and seeing the nice big houses. Some brick, some wood, but very beautiful homes. I was wise enough at that time to know she wished she lived in one of those beautiful houses, but it never accrued to me just how hard my mother's life was and had been for her to wish that. She had to buy for four kids, keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes and shoes on our feet and not to mention the other bills. Once the boys were old enough, she had to teach them how to shave and tried her best to make them understand things in life that a man should know. Then when was girls were old enough, she had to teach us how to cook and clean. The number one thing she tried to tell us was how important school was. Momma let us be kids also. We played in the dirt, ran in the rain and skip rope. She always said a dirty kid is a healthy and happy kid. I never seen her cry even though I know she did and maybe a lot. When us kids was around, she was always smiling and laughing. She told us in later years to never make fun of people no matter how they looked because it could happen to us. She made sure we didn’t care what a person skin type was we had to accept them as they were because we don’t know their story. My Momma seen beauty in everything, no matter how ugly it was she could see the beauty in it. My Momma deserved more in her life time than any other person I know. She was sweet, kind, happy, wise and the friendliest person you would ever meet. She loved the holiday’s, Christmas the most of all. She loved live Christmas trees and the decorations. She done her best to raise us kids being that she was our mother and Father. My momma passed away at the age of fifty-four. As her daughter I wish I could have done more for her. The trails and tribulations of fear inside her having to do this on her own had to be scary for a woman. To me I think she did a Hell of a good job at something she wasn’t prepared for and raising up to do what she had to do to raise us right. Thank you, Momma for giving me a loving, happy, healthy childhood and thank you for being my father when daddy passed away. father. Born in a small town in Alabama into a poor working-class family. The family had to move around in search of work. Farm labor mostly. The family had to chop and pick cotton on these farms they moved to. It was said that there were even times they had to live in tents, cook from an open fire and make their own lye soap. Washing dirty clothes in a large caldron using a wash board to scrub the stains out. Even though the family was from Alabama they finally settled in a small town in Arkansas. This small town was a farming community with promise of work nearly year-round. In this town there was a school and the only way to get there was to walk nearly five miles both ways. This put a lot of pressure on the knees and the mother had to rub them every night to help ease the pain. The family would go to bed early, before the sun went down too getting up at four in the morning to start the next day's work scheduler. The job was easier to do in the early morning hours just before sunrise than to wait until the sun was high in the sky to start the day. Wearing straw hats to shade the face and long sleeve shirts to protect the arms from the burning sun. This was the job they were getting paid for and they made sure the job got done. It was hard, tedious, sweaty work, swinging a hoe from sun up to nearly sundown, only stopping to sharpen the hoe when the blade got dull and for lunch. Once you are in the middle of that cotton field and thinking you are going to die before you reach the end just to be able to get that cool drink of water. Once your thrust is satisfied you start again headed for the other end that seems like it is going to last forever, but this was all they knew. They had done it with their parents and now they were now doing it as parents. Times were extremely hard and school came in second place. If you were able to go to school it didn’t last long because the money was needed more. A person isn’t going to get far with only a fourth-grade education. The only way out was to get married if you could find someone which was hard to do when all you see is a cotton field every day. But love did come and life got a little better. The first few years was spent travelling away from Arkansas to Oklahoma, Delaware, South Carolina and sometimes back to Arkansas. In the beginning it was a good life until the kids started coming. Four in all, two boys and then two girls. Then death. Cancer took my father out at the age of sixty-two. You see, my father died when I was just three years old. I never got to know him or his family. All I do know about him is that he was born in Oklahoma, was married before and had a daughter, worked as a welder, graduated the eighth grade and was part Creek Indian on his mother's side of the family. After his death my mother became both my Momma and Daddy at the age of thirty-one. She had no way of going back to the cotton fields because of us kids. All she had to survive on was my Fathers Social Security she received after his death. My Mother never took was camping but she did load us up in the old station wagon, buy two dollars' worth of gas, buy us an ice-cream cone from Faye’s Fine Dinner and ride to the river and watch the barges go by. When we got older, she would take us back to the river and we would bbq, hamburger's, wieners and drink coke. Afterwards we would make our way down to the river to fish. Sometimes we would catch a fish and sometimes we didn’t. She showed us how to make a small fire and roast marshmallows and wieners on a stick. Bring out a sheet so we could lay on it and look up at the stars until it was bed time. Other times she would drive out towards a small neighboring town called Wilson after we visited my father's grave. She loved driving out there and seeing the nice big houses. Some brick, some wood, but very beautiful homes. I was wise enough at that time to know she wished she lived in one of those beautiful houses, but it never accrued to me just how hard my mother's life was and had been for her to wish that. She had to buy for four kids, keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes and shoes on our feet and not to mention the other bills. Once the boys were old enough, she had to teach them how to shave and tried her best to make them understand things in life that a man should know. Then when was girls were old enough, she had to teach us how to cook and clean. The number one thing she tried to tell us was how important school was. Momma let us be kids also. We played in the dirt, ran in the rain and skip rope. She always said a dirty kid is a healthy and happy kid. I never seen her cry even though I know she did and maybe a lot. When us kids was around, she was always smiling and laughing. She told us in later years to never make fun of people no matter how they looked because it could happen to us. She made sure we didn’t care what a person skin type was we had to accept them as they were because we don’t know their story. My Momma seen beauty in everything, no matter how ugly it was she could see the beauty in it. My Momma deserved more in her life time than any other person I know. She was sweet, kind, happy, wise and the friendliest person you would ever meet. She loved the holiday’s, Christmas the most of all. She loved live Christmas trees and the decorations. She done her best to raise us kids being that she was our mother and Father. My momma passed away at the age of fifty-four. As her daughter I wish I could have done more for her. The trails and tribulations of fear inside her having to do this on her own had to be scary for a woman. To me I think she did a Hell of a good job at something she wasn’t prepared for and raising up to do what she had to do to raise us right. Thank you, Momma for giving me a loving, happy, healthy childhood and thank you for being my father when daddy passed away.
By Vicky Ashley2 months ago in Families
There Weren't Always Dragons in the Valley
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. It was a myth, a mythical, fire breathing beast with wings that swoop down from the sky to grab you with its thick, long sharp talons. It’s been said that dragons have a furious appetite for human flesh. They come twice a day appearing high in the sky when they come out of the farther reaches of the mountains to fly to the valley in search for food. Gray in color, the head’s bright red with long white feather’s flowing down the back. Their bodies covered in thick layered scales from the head down it’s back, legs and tails with the same white colored feathers. The breast uncovered from these scales covered in a thick yellow hide and the only vulnerable part of the dragons. The wings massive in size also covered in the same white feathers. These colors help it to hind nearly in plain sight among the newly growing world outside. In fact, the dragons are a very beautiful creature to behold and very dangerous with their wide mouths full of sharp teeth and a squall that they omit in flight travelling for miles. Only a few have lived to tell the tale of this amazing creature. Paintings on the underground walls tells the story. It appearing to be a-cross, a hybrid of a bird and a lizard formed many, many years of evolving with time. And with this time, they grew too almost enormous in size. “How did this happen? You ask. I will tell you. I was picked from a group of elders to keep the story and pass it on. If you remember earlier, I said it took many, many years for these dragons to evolve from a bird like lizard to a dragon we know of today. There was once a time that the world was so populated and growing with technology that the people of the time would have never imagine anything like this to happen. The year was 3250 A.D.E., the wars in every corner of the earth. Atomic bombs, missiles, guns killings of human and animals were astronomical. Chaos reigned in every city or small town around. There were volcanic eruptions, earth quacks and the wars were so strong and so long that the pollutant's that went up into the air started to block out the sun. Acid rain fell from the sky as the atmosphere slowly being poisoned. This change of events slowly making the earth froze over and as the earth was slowly freezing a very few groups of people took it upon themselves to dig deep down as close to the core of the earth to get heat. Cities were built, farms to grow crops, stables for livestock and every other need available to substance life. The only thing left out of the new ways were left behind. Life had to start over deep down where the people labored to build bigger places to make new places for the million humans to come to live. But things are not what they appear here anymore. The population grew too fast as crime started here also. Some trying to bring the old ways back because they themselves were too greedy to work for food. Some laws were made and then more laws until nobody knew how to get along. The war on top had found its way down here. There was unrest and untrusty for the citizens and some had learned how to fasten their own swords again. It had gotten unsafe for every living being. A lot of the people got exceled out into the cold. They were not welcomed anymore from their crimes. Once that started happening the crimes grew smaller until the crimes were no more. We had learned to live in peace. Nobody knew when the earth thawed or when the trees, grass, flowers of all kinds had appeared. Only that once we learned of the new world we also learned of the new dangers. Dragons!
By Vicky Ashley3 months ago in Fiction
From Across The Room
I didn’t want to go to the party. It was going to be at the bar downtown. I know some of my friends was going to be there. It was better to be there than here. I didn’t really mingle with the people; just sitting at the bar drinking a beer. I looked around the bar it was decorated in hearts from floor to ceiling. After all it was Valentine's Day.
By Vicky Ashley6 months ago in Confessions
Return Of the Night Owl
A route. Traveled many times in her life with her mate following close behind. Tonight, with the light of a full moon and the stars to help guild the way. The route planted firmly in her mind she flies alone. The air crisp, cool and heavy with the smells of the coming spring. She doesn't let this deter or sway her from her flight. She has caught a current headed in her direction and she lets it carry her onward. She's tired and her route seems as if it has gotten longer as she studies the ground for any movement. Eyes sharp, ears alert for any minor sound below. She has flown over the trees that has laid open fields ahead of her flight. The faithful air current now gone she restarts her flight. She hears a sound down below she turns with a flick of her tail. Flying lower, just about the tall grass she hears the sound again. She knows where it is as she ready's herself for the swope down, and with her talons she easily captures the rat. The rat dies instantly as she tears into the flesh with her sharp hooked bills. This meal will help give her the strength and refresh her energy for the journey ahead. She takes to the air and without even trying she is back on her route. The open fields soon open up to lights and sounds she has come to know well. Horns honking somewhere in the distance, sounds of crowds gather together, laughter and doors slamming. She flies on. Soon the city is behind her, and open fields lay ahead. The moon now has lowered in the night sky. It still helps guild her onward and closer to where she needs to be. There, up ahead in the distance she sees what she has been longing for. It's an old barn. Sitting out in a bare field with nothing around it for miles. It's a peaceful place but has been neglected. The red paint long gone exposing the wood to the elements. The barn leaning sideways from years of strong winds blowing. The roof nearly gone, the rust eating through the tin in places. One of the barn doors is laying on the ground outside the barn while the other door is barely hanging onto its hinge at the top. When the wind blows the door sways slightly. Years of seasons hasn't been good to the place she calls home. She flies through the open space where the door is laying on the ground and comes to rest on the dirt floor. She ruffles her feathers, shaking off her long flight and comes to a rest. She takes in the sight, the same sight she has seen many times. The times when her mate was with her. She takes a step forward, her eyes seeing and her ears hearing she takes another step. The old familiar barn with nothing left inside but the loft above. There, up there in that loft her mate beside her raising their owlets. She fly's up to the loft and lands softly as dust flies up in the air around her. Once the dust settled, she slowly walks to her old nest. Stepping into the nest she steps around making the nest more comfortable she starts to bring up pellets she adds to her nest. Satisfied with what she has done she settles in. The night moon now at the horizon slowly slipping away, the sky turning blue she glances around her home once more. The time has come for her as she closes her eyes. You see, this is the story of a barn owl that was lucky enough to make it to old age. She passed away in the early morning hours just before she was able to think of her life.
By Vicky Ashley7 months ago in Fiction
