Going to Town

Going To Town



It is an unseasonably warm morning for mid April in the Appalachian Mountains. A spring breeze whispers through the top of old hickory trees. Red squirrels soar from branch to branch and tree to tree. They chase one another like children on the first day of school. Blue birds sing a song of joy for the call to mate is still very strong. The trees bustle with life as they have from the beginning of time. Tiny, unseen things scurry beneath dead leaves on the forest floor, listening, waiting, and watching. In a clearing below the canopy of full green leaves stands a lone figure clothed only with what nature provided. She is tan from head to toe. Her skin is smoothly curved and tender yet strong from her twenty-five years of mountain womanhood. She is as much a part of the forest as the birds and squirrels. Her arms spread outward to the side and her head bows toward the tiny, smoking fire. Her voice is silken as she speaks: " Use me as you will, for the good of all." The gentleness in her piercing hazel eyes could melt any mans heart. "Where are you? You worthless piece of meat," shouts a strong voice harsh enough to break the mood of anyone wanting to be of service. William is the typical hillbilly. Filth covers denim which has not faired well the past winter. It’s difficult to tell where the crud on his clothing stops and the crud on his flesh begins. A full head of hair that could be used for greasing wagon axles is covered with a hat made from some kind of vermin. Either his voice or the smell of him makes the animals stop their activity; the forest becomes deathly quiet. Even the things beneath the thatch remain still. Amanda quickly kicks dirt with her bare feet to extinguish the flame. She dons the thin covering her father William calls a dress, her nakedness barely covered by the sheer clothing. Her round, firm breasts press hard against the soft material tempting the threads to explode. Long luscious auburn hair cascades gently to her waist. A well-proportioned behind gives way to her femininity and the most perfect pair of legs on Earth. She truly hates William seeing her naked. He is always raking her flesh with his eyes. Amanda would rather die than suffer one more dreadful encounter with him. "There you are, you lazy sow. Ain't you found enough mushrooms for my breakfast yet?" William’s voice is so brutal Amanda feels her heart will burst. "Yes, Daddy," squeaks her shaking voice. Amanda bends over picking up a small, hand woven-basket and says, "I would like to go to town, Daddy, if it's all right with you." “You ain't going nowhere till I get all of you I want. And you know that won't be forever," he says as he scratches at his groin. Amanda tosses back her satin hair and rushes toward home. Things on the forest bed begin to dart to and fro, stirring leaves and dirt. William, knowing the dangers in the woods, becomes frightened and also runs toward home. Home. A pigsty with tarpaper covered walls on the outside. Smoke billows from a rusty pipe plunged through a kitchen window. Drawn in by the aroma of animal fat on a hot fire, wasps swarm around the broken glass hoping for a chance to enter. The inside walls are surfaced with old cardboard boxes for insulation from the cold winter nights. That little extra warmth never seems enough to keep Amanda's nightmare from happening time after time. Inside, Amanda prepares a special breakfast for William. She did find the special mushrooms. She said the prayer her mother had told her. She gave sacrifice in the forest, which was gladly accepted by the hidden creatures. Amanda has rehearsed this scene every day since the death of her mother. "Astard-bay amn-day ou-yay," Chants Amanda, as she stirs the mushrooms into Williams favorite food, pig-fat gravy. Smoke puffs from the iron skillet nearly filling the grubby little kitchen. The smoke then fades as quickly as it has appeared. The smell of this delectable meal settles on everything, perhaps hiding aromas of lustful disregard. William doesn't care where he is when he gets the urge for sex. When he wants it he takes it. There is evidence of this by the dried smegma around the unbuttoned fly of his O-By-Gosh bibs. "Hurry up. ‘For I give you some of this," William squeals as he entered the kitchen with both hands shoved inside his stinking overalls. "I'm hungry, and I got the bone. I don't know what I want most, you or food." Amanda has endured the incestuous demands of her retched father for the past ten years. Quickly Amanda replies. "It's your favorite, Daddy, hog jowl and mushroom gravy." William sits down and begins to stuff his face, getting as much on him as he does in him. Just moments later William grabs his throat. "Arrggg!" he sputters. His eyes are bulging past his bushy brow. His dirty, unshaven face turns a bright shade of purple. He stands up and snaps to a rigid attention, then falls like a tree cut by Paul Bunyon. William hits the floor with a thud. A cloud of dust rises around him like a meteor has just plummeted into the earth. Small animal claws reach through the floorboards ripping and pulling at the clothing and tissue of the sacrifice that has been promised. The loathsome corps churns from the inside. A river of blood gushes out through the floor. The sound of a brook can be heard beyond the noise of shredding flesh. A tiny white apron drapes over the back of Williams head. " I told you I wanted to go to town,” sneers Amanda as she strolls out the door. "Don't wait up, and do your own dishes."

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