Come Home

The FLood (ch 10)

Chapter Ten


The Flood


         The rains started early this year. The river is too choppy for mom to allow us to cross for school. I miss school. Not classmates, I missed the teachers. I missed the time away from this house. I hated times like this because when I returned to school I had many long hours by lamp to catch up on the work missed.


         Yesterday, Dad did try to get us across the river against Mom's firm warnings. She was fuming when he made us leave the house into the wet morning. After my sisters and I got into the boat, Dad tried to row it with some since of direction. He pushed to go into the current of water, but it pushed him on down stream. We had to pull back to our bank about a mile down. Dad did not make us get out and wade the muddy bank back home. Instead he pulled from one branch to the next along the shoreline until we were back to our path back home.


         We did not have to worry about the water getting into our house, but the little town across from us was covered. All the streets were nothing but water. It got into country stores. Flooded the house that we loved so much that we moved from. This was one body of water swallowing up whatever was in its way. The road that had become our playground was covered in muddy mess of broken tree limbs and kneaded mud. We were all stuck playing in the house.


         Dad either went into the caves to gather coal or slept. He was not happy about the chatter of three little girls home all day. He did not have patience any more. One day during our captivity by the flood, Less had drawn a picture of a dog on the door to the stairs. He yanked Less so hard by the arm that you heard a snap sound as he lifted him off the floor. “You don't appreciate the home you live in..” Dad began.


         “John,” Mom screamed. “Let him go!”


         Dad ignores her. Rose steps in. She stands right where he was still holding Less off the ground. “Dad, I did it. I was just playing school, and I forgot to clean it off.” Dad hits her so hard that she was lifted into the air and fell on the hard wooden floor. She is bawling now.


         Less is crying now. Sis jumps in with, “Dad! I drew the picture.” He did not touch her yet. He took a step toward her, and then I took the blame. He was in rage. He pulled off his belt. He beat me until he felt a relief and left the house.


         Mom follows him to the door. When she thought she we could no longer hear she addressed our dad. “You ever touch one of these children like that again, I will leave and you will never find us.”


         Dad's reply was simple, “Do it and Die!” He slammed the door behind him.


         While Dad was out in the storm, we were not much better. The stove was running low on flame, and we were out of coal. The lamps were empty. With the flood blocking us from any contact with stores, we had nothing but flour, lard, and water in the house. That meant that we ate gravy and flat cakes for every meal. Stranded with a capital S.


         Mom tried to make the best of it. We all gathered around her. Another sing a long, maybe this would cheer things up. I tried to enjoyed this as I usually did, but the words, “Do it and die.” Kept spinning in my head. Would our dad actually kill our mom? Would he kill us?


         If my mother was worried about the threat, she never permitted it to show. The day turned to dark night. She walked us to our room guiding us through the blackness. She had taken each of us to each bed. She tucked us in with a kiss.


         Dad has not come home yet so the stove is with out any coal to keep the fire going. It was getting so cold. We had two quilts, three blankets, and coats on, but nothing took the chill away. Rose who always pulled her body from the rest, was all snuggled in with Sis and me.


         The next morning we had gravy again. I could not eat. I hid the plate until I got the chance to feed it to Blunder. After all, he too has nothing to eat. I begin to feel so weak. I could not stand up with out feeling as though I was going to faint.          


         Too many hours have passed since my dad had gone. He had no where to go. I know that he could not be any warmer than we are. Mom takes some of the finished school assignments that she had saved from my first day of school and started a fire in the stove. She was a pack rat of things we did. She would not think of burning the pictures that we drew unless there was nothing else. Mom held Less on her lap to keep him warm, but the small flames could not light the darkness of an overcast stormy day. Rose and I cut soda cans in half . We broke up our crayons. We took a shoe string, but it into pieces, and made them wicks for our home-made candles. We were proud of our creation.


         Dad comes through the door. “What are you doing with that fire!” He yells as he takes the candles from us. “Do you want to burn this house down?”


         Less speaks, “ It was dark, Daddy. We could not see.”


         Dad ignored him as he covered the flame between his thumb and forefinger. Dad had two five pound lard buckets full of coal. He places a couple of blocks on into the iron stove.


         “Where have you been, John?” Mom asks.


         Dad turns slowly. His eyes had no color at this point. All you could see was large black pupils surrounded with blood shot whites. “ I go out to find coal to keep us warm. This is the thanks that I get."


         Dad was gone over a week, but he didn't seem to know it. The windows begin to rattle. Dad slaps Mom. I could not believe my eyes. He smiles so evil.


         The waters have receded. We are happy to go back to school. Mom was making plans. She was going to leave this time and not go back.








My words are ways to leave peices of myself behind for my children.

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