Monday, July 27, 2009

There stands on a corner in my village, forlorn and abandoned, a trailer house of small worth, other than to itself or the citizen it protects.

I have little idea of its origins and less inclination to learn. But, I know the house has stood there on that corner lot for years upon years and I know somewhat the history of how it came.



There is, just to the East of that trailer house, an abandoned building, and there was, on the lot upon which the trailer house stands, an abandoned building.

I know that because I assisted in the demolition of THAT old house, and we burned the carcass in the the bar ditch to the West of that trailer house. The ditch is five feet deep and not visible to you in this picture.

The old house and the lot were owned by the husband of the Blonde Widow out at the Greasy. Before the Blonde’s husband died he sold the lot to a couple and they brought the trailer house to the lot which I and the husband had cleared of under and over growth and the old and abandoned house.

The male of the couple was a part time employee of mine at one time. I met him when I needed some hands on the recommendation of the husband. I went searching for the man and found him living with a woman and her son in another trailer house twenty or more miles out Fall River Lake way.

I also learned that the man was out of prison on a pedophilia charge and wasn’t suppose to be within one thousand feet of them. He assured me, as did the woman with whom he consorted, that he would never harm the woman with whom he co-habituated children.

The woman owned a building in this small village and sold from it most anything of small value and worth. She was a point to which the various citizens of the mobile community passing through the village could buy or sell such household items as need demanded.

That building burned, and the woman lost her source of income. She then hired out to the local liquor store, but that business went out of business. Not through lack of custom, I must say, but lack of interest from the owner.

At any rate, the pedophile and the woman married, the child left the woman’s home for the care of others, they bought the lot and placed the trailer I’ve shown you upon it, and settled into life, collecting to themselves friends. Those friends, I might add, color the life’s of good and decent people to this day.

One day, the pedophile decided in consultation with the woman, that a trip to Arkansas was required. Said trip to return property to the trailer left in Arkansas by the pedophile.

Thus arranged and executed, the departure made. Days later we learned that the pedophile was in prison, again, in Arkansas, having been placed there to complete his fifteen year sentence for pedophilia and violating the terms of his parole – living out of state and near children.

We’re left to speculate as to his activities in Arkansas.

The woman sold the trailer of which we speak, and the lot, and now the trailer, as you may see from the picture, stands abandoned. The woman returned to live in the trailer house out near the Fall River Lake, where one presumes, she waits the completion of the fifteen year prison term of her husband.

I bring you all of this because of the address of the innocent trailer languishing in the weeds and brambles, suffering no interest or care.



If you cannot read it: It reads 420.


From the reaches,

Ten Mile  

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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