I like books.


I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.

Monday, March 20, 2006

The Devil fought for my soul.

When I was a small child, in order to get me to behave, my grandma told me that there was a devil that lived on top of her house. I believed her. So, at night, I would never go outside for fear of running into the devil. My mom made me live with her during the year after my grandfather died, and so, on the cold nights, I had to go outside and get things like, coal for the coal stove. One night, a really cold night, my grandma woke me up and said the fire was dying down and there was no coal in the house. Well, as luck would have it, there was no coal on the porch either. So, I had to put my shoes on and walk a few feet from the house to the coal pile. It wasn’t that far, but remember there was a devil that lived on her roof. Plus, her house was not but a half field away from burial mounds, which she said haunted her house. So, that night, I walked those few feet and kept trying to remember if I was saved, I mean just in case. When I got to the coal bin, something swooped down and I felt heat, I knew it was heat. I ran back to the house and told my grandma that the devil came off the house and attacked me. She sent me back with me crying every step. I got to the coal mound and quickly filled the shuttle with coal and ran back as quickly as I could. To this day, I don’t know what swooped down, maybe an owl or a hawk, some poor starved predator bird looking for a mouse. But, I will never forget the story that my grandma told the following days. It wasn’t a bird, it was the devil fighting off the Indian spirits for me. They came together and while they fought, I got away. I always asked her why, if she thought there was a devil and an Indian spirit fighting over me, why did she send me back. She said, well, there’s the devil, there’s the Indian spirit, and then there’s the cold. It was cold that night, colder than two blankets a quilt could remedy, and the coal was needed. That’s why you went to the coal pile to fight the devil. And I always added the Indian spirit. That night, by the way, and for several there after, I slept with my grandma. She snored.


Blogger Mouse said...

I love your stories. Don't drink coffee that's so hot is kills taste buds cause you can't taste afterward. And I'm happy you got to see the boys. YAY! almost cried tears of joy for you-- almost. you know me-- not a crier :)

11:19 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home