Trending
Jim Atwater, of Ft. Madison, attended my creative writing class. This is one of the stories he wrote. He also good with Sci Fi.
As you may, or may not know, I am a frustrated writer. Earlier this year I took a writing class, from a local legend (character). This is an excerpt from said writing:
Life with Grandpa was not always a bed of roses. He was strict and could be harsh. I generally did okay with him because I was used to my father, who was likewise. Then there was, The Walk In the Woods.
Along with everything else Grandpa made amazing slingshots. He had gotten a supply of half inch rubber from someplace and made slingshots, with which he killed rabbits, squirrels and quail. (He regularly hunted quail with a twenty-two rifle, because it damaged the meat less.) One of my favorite things was when he would throw a hickory nut into the air and, using his slingshot, shoot it with another nut: usually cracking one and sometimes both nuts.
He made me a slingshot and, as 9-year-old boys will do, I lost it. He was not pleased about that, but I badgered him over a period of a couple of weeks, until he finally, begrudgingly, agreed to make me another. The catch was I would have to go into the woods with him, climb the tree and cut the branch for the yoke (handle.) It was win/win, in my mind.
I'm not sure exactly which particular tree we were looking for, but we traveled a long time. When we got to the spot, he drove deep into the woods. Finally, we arrived. He got out and told me to come on. I did not have any shoes on. I had never seen him really and truly angry before, but there it was. He thought a second and then said, "Come on." I got out and followed him. He ran me around those woods, through creeks and over rocks for what seemed like an eternity, never stopping, never slowing. By the time we found the tree that suited him my feet were hamburger. I climbed the tree with a bow saw and cut the branch he pointed at. Then I had to walk back to the Scout.
On the drive home I got the finger to the forehead and a triple, "Think, think, think." A couple of days later when my slingshot was ready, I was able to walk around, with shoes. It would be a while before I could go barefooted again. Mom and dad came to pick me up a few days later, and I still had a lot of blood in my socks. They were not happy. That was one of the last summers I stayed with my grandparents. As for me, the pain and suffering lasted a couple of weeks; the world's best slingshot lasted several years.
------------
Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526 or email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com. Curt is available for public speaking.