Field Trip: Pine Hill Cemetery

If you were at Discovering SHR a few weeks ago, you might have heard author Hannah Dela Cruz Abrams talk about the ways in which our own brains can keep giving us the same images, syntax, characters, sabotaging our creative impulses.

Author Cristina Garcia gives a talk called "Cultivating Chaos," in which she praises chaos as a fresh path to creativity. What she means, which is similar to Dela Cruz Abrams' idea, is that as writers we grow stagnant when we write in the same places, about the same things. There is a "randomness and  mystery that enlivens are best work," Garcia explains.

And that's what our field trips this semester aim to do.

So, with that in mind...

Instead of class on February 12th, make time to visit either Pine Hill Cemetery on Armstrong Street, or Baptist Hill on Dean and Thatch. Take an hour to walk around the grounds. These places have stories to tell. Open wide your faculties of perception.

Then, go somewhere quiet to write. You can either write at the cemetery, or somewhere nearby (the public library is across from the Pine Hill Cemetery, and it's a great place!). Don't let too much time go by between your field trip and your writing time.

Now, write a 3-4 page story, or scene, inspired by your visit. Perhaps you use one of the names you read on a headstone. Or you observed someone else at the cemetery mowing the lawn. Or you found yourself spending time wondering about the houses whose backyards are basically IN THE CEMETERY (this is true at Baptis Hill), or want to know why there are BROKEN TOMBS THAT YOU CAN LOOK INTO (also true at Baptist Hill).

Let chaos rule the day in your imagination. Strive for a story, an image, a line of dialogue, that is totally unlike what you've ever done before.

We will share these on February 17th, and you will turn them in for a grade. So please, type and double space these pieces.

The Scarlet Elderly by Jenny Melnick

Author's Note:

I had a hard time making this story seem exciting, I was almost getting bored writing it. I'm afraid I have too many insignificant characters, like the family members, and that it's too confusing for the reader to keep straight. One of the things I was going for with this story was the sense of family, and that not all families are as happy as they seem to be, and I don't think I accomplished that. I had planned on giving the main character a secret, but I couldn't come up with one, so if you have any ideas about what she could be hiding, please let me know. I usually don't write in third person, so that was a bit of a challenge to me. I didn't want the narrator to be too up close, to where we get a lot of insignificant detail, but I didn't want them to be too far away either. I also didn't pay a lot of attention to setting, so just take notice of the setting and point out where you think I could do more (or less). I think there's a lot of room in this story for development of all kinds, but I'm just not sure where to put it. I'm horrible with titles as well, so if you have any suggestions for that I would really appreciate it (this one was thought of late at night- my motivation was to title it something-anything-so I could go to bed). Thanks for the help!

The Scarlet Elderly

“Susie, no juice on the carpet,” Eddie yelled at her granddaughter, who put her cup on the table without saying a word and kept chasing the other two boys. They were American spies hunting down the “kay-she-bee,” which meant they chased one another around the house making explosive sounds with their mouths and shaping their hands to look like guns. Eddie stirred her drink with the celery stalk and turned back to her friends.

“So, Eddie, where did you say Paige was this morning?” asked Ruth. She was sitting across the table with her eyebrows knit together, her glasses at the tip of her nose and her phone in front of her face. Ruth’s oldest granddaughter insisted that she get a new phone for her birthday last year and she still can barely use it.

“She went with Brooke and Kristen to finish making the name tags and pick up everyone’s dresses for the rehearsal dinner.” Eddie picked up her Bloody Mary and took a sip. The top of the celery pushed against her glasses.

“Did Brooke decide to keep that awful pink dress? It looked like a salmon threw up on it,” Constance said, laughing. Ruth raised her eyes from the screen and looked over her glasses at Eddie and Constance. Constance regarded herself as an expert on everything. “I mean, the mother of the bride shouldn’t be wearing such an undignified color.” She adjusted her pearl necklace around her collar.

“Yes, she did keep the dress,” said Eddie, putting her drink down on the table, “and I thought it looked very nice on her.”

Constance paused, almost as if she was waiting for a laugh, and when Eddie didn’t reply she said, “Well, I suppose since she’s so young she can pull it off.”

Eddie’s daughter, Brooke, had gotten pregnant when she was a freshman in college. She had Kristen at nineteen, making Eddie a grandmother at forty-five. Eddie had Brooke when she was only twenty-three, but she had been married for two years and it was a different time. Now Kristen seemed to be following in their footsteps by getting married at twenty. She had been dating the boy, Tom, for two years, but she couldn’t help feeling like they were making a mistake. That, along with other things, kept her awake at night.

In the back of the house one of the boys screamed as he was shot down by Susie. 

“So,” Ruth said, putting down her phone and leaning in towards the others, “Eddie, how is Stan doing? He hasn’t been home the past few times I’ve been over.” Poor Ruth. In trying to run interference she accidentally redirected the conversation to the last place Eddie wanted it to go.

“Oh, he’s doing fine,” she answered, “been playing golf a lot.” She twisted her wedding ring. In truth, Eddie had no idea how her husband was doing. She liked to imagine that he was distraught without her, a complete mess, but in reality she knew he was probably having the time of his life. It had been three weeks since he abruptly left her. She came home from the pharmacy and found him packing his suitcase upstairs on the bed. He sat her down and explained that he was leaving her, that he had found someone else to spend what little of his life he had left with. He had been distant the past few months, sure, but she thought it was just a product of stress due to their son. He said he needed more adventure, that he wanted to make his last years memorable, and staying home with her every night just wasn’t going to cut it anymore. “I’ll always love you, but I need to be happy,” is what he said to her as he zipped up the suitcase. She tried to argue with him, said that they could plan more trips and go into the capital more often, but his mind was made up. He kissed her on the forehead and then walked out the door.

Almost as much as she wished he hadn’t left, she wished he had waited a little longer. Their oldest granddaughter, Kristen, was getting married in one week. She hadn’t told the family, and she didn’t want to, since she was convinced that Stan was just having a late-in-life crisis and would be back in no time.

It wasn’t until the next week that she learned he had moved in with Kayla, the young widow next door. She was thirty-five years old, though she looked to still be in her twenties. Eddie had been putting up a new set of curtains when she saw them through the window in the kitchen next door. Kayla was standing at the stove and Stanley came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the cheek. She’s made sure her curtains on that side of the house have been closed ever since.

“Robert hasn’t mentioned seeing him at the club,” said Constance.

“I guess they’re just missing each other then,” said Eddie.

Susie and the boys, Walter and Stephen, came running into the kitchen, wanting a snack. Eddie breathed a sigh of relief and got up to fix Susie an apple with peanut butter, while Ruth and Constance searched through their bags. Ruth gave Walter gummy snacks and Constance gave Stephen a package of gluten free, organic goldfish. Eddie made a note to give him real food the next time he was over.

Eddie turned on the TV and put on a program about a yellow sponge for them to watch, then sat back down at the table.

Constance leaned in over her drink and said, “Have you heard about Marge’s granddaughter?” She said it in a whisper, even though there was no one to overhear her. Ruth and Eddie shook their heads. “Martha told Susan, who told me, that she’s pregnant.”

“Oh, poor Marge,” said Ruth. “How embarrassing for her.”

“I haven’t seen her at Wednesday service or bible study since the news got out,” said Constance, smiling.

“I haven’t seen Marge in a long time,” said Eddie. “Is her granddaughter—what’s her name, Ellie?—going to keep the baby?”

“Well that’s because you haven’t been to church in such a long time, Eddie,” said Constance, completely ignoring her Eddie’s question, which she felt was of much more importance. “You can’t expect to see everyone if you don’t show up.”

It was comments like these that made Eddie try to avoid Constance. If only their grandchildren weren’t friends, she might never have to talk to her. “I’ve been busy, Constance you know that.”

“Right, with the wedding and all. And I’m sure dealing with Tyler has been exhausting, unless he’s overcome those drugs problems?” Constance asked, knowing full well Eddie’s son, Tyler, who had been in and out of jail and been addicted to a variety of substances, had not overcome any of his problems. Honestly, Eddie didn’t consider herself to be very religious, though since she was getting on in her years (“matured,” as she liked to say), she figured she probably should be. And in light of the recent familial problems, she hadn’t felt like giving thanks.

Slapping her hand down on the table, Constance said, “Why don’t you come with me Sunday morning? You’ll be able to see everyone and catch up.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to, I’m meeting with Kristen to go over the seating chart one more time—”

“Jesus would make time for you,” she said.

Eddie knew she had no excuse good enough to trump that, and she wasn’t supposed to help go over the seating chart until dinnertime, so she sighed and said, “Sure, Constance. I’ll meet you there in the morning,” and drank the rest of her Bloody Mary in one swift gulp.

Eddie grabbed her purse and headed to the front door. As she was grabbing her keys from the table next to the door, she noticed someone standing in the yard next door. She moved back the sheer curtain and saw that it was Stanley. He was watering the flowers by Kayla’s mailbox. She looked at her own flowerbed, where the pansies he used to fondly take care of were wilting. They had only spoken once after he moved out. She had seen him cleaning the leaves out of Kayla’s pool form upstairs, and climbed on a stepping stool so she could yell to him over the fence. She told him that it was time for this stunt to be over, that it was time for him to come home. He insisted that he was never coming back, that while he loved her he was happier with Kayla. When she came outside in a bikini, Eddie gave up and went back inside. She cried herself to sleep that night.

 But this time she was determined. She opened the door and marched across the lawn, not bothering to lock the door.

“Stan,” she called out. He looked back, his eyebrows rising in surprise when he saw her.

“Hello, Eddie,” he said, looking towards the door, “Do you need something?”

“I don’t know what you think you are doing, but it is time for this to be over,” she said.

He slowly shook his head, “Eddie, I don’t think you understand—”

“No, Stanley. You don’t understand. You made vows to me when we got married. For better or worse, remember? Now you get your ass back inside that house and we will forget all about this.”

“Edna,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but no. I’ve thought about this for months—”

“Months?” she said. She threw his hand off of her shoulder. “You’ve been seeing her for months?”

“Well, a little over a year, actually,” he said.

He opened his mouth to continue talking, but Eddie cut him off, slapping him in the face. “You do not speak a word of this to our children until after the wedding, do you understand me? I will not let you ruin both my life and our granddaughter’s wedding in the same week.”

Stanley held his hand to his cheek, not saying a word. Eddie walked a few feet back to her house but then turned back, “And that woman is not permitted to be there. So help me, Stanley, if you bring her…” She shook her head and continued back across the laws, getting into her car.

She drove around the corner and pulled over so she could cry.

            Eddie drove a little closer than necessary to the car in front of her, willing them to go faster. It was 9:45 and she was still five minutes away from the church. Constance would never let it go if she showed up late. She would nag her about being on time every time they made plans in the future. She couldn’t even come up with a last-minute excuse to get out of it, since she had forgotten her phone at home. Constance would never forgive her for simply not showing up, and while Eddie would probably be happier with less of Constance in her life, she was unavoidable.

            She parked at 9:53 and breathed a sigh of relief. Dreading the next hour, she sat in her car for a minute. Constance knocked on the window, making Eddie jump in surprise. Before she could roll down the window or get out of the car, Constance yelled, “I’m going to go inside, don’t want to be late! I’ll save you a seat!” and quickly walked away and into the church, cutting through the grassy median that separated Eddie’s car from the building.

            Annoyed, Eddie pulled out her car keys and threw them in her purse. She got out of the car and started walking up the small hill of the median when she realized she forgot to lock the car. She stopped and fished the keys out of her purse, looking over her shoulder to make sure the lights flashed as she hit the button. She took a step forward, turning her head back around, and got hit in the face by a branch on a tree didn’t see before. Scared, she threw her hands up and jerked back, but her footing on the small hill wasn’t stable, and she fell backwards over the curb into the parking lot. She yelled and threw her arm out to break the fall, hearing a sound like a tree branch snapping.

            She lay on the ground for a minute, processing what had just happened, her heart racing. She didn’t move, but consciously checked each part of her body for pain. If she had a broken hip she didn’t just want to hop right back up. She really hoped she didn’t have a broken hip, what an old lady injury. She vowed never to make fun of the old women on the Life Alert commercials again. No, it seemed that only her arm was injured. Embarrassed, she slowly got back up, grabbing onto the car next to her for support with her other hand, hoping no one saw her. She instinctively bent her right arm and held it in her left, against her chest. Maybe it isn’t broken, she thought. Maybe it’s just a really bad bruise or sprain. She could probably still go to church. Constance already knew she was here, and she didn’t want to have to explain why she left. She took a deep breath, her heart starting to return to its normal rate.

There were plenty of people still in the parking lot, rushing in to the church. Parents with small children, trying to corral them through the doors, young couples, and even some of her friends. She waved at a couple she knew from across the parking lot. How did no one see her fall? Surely someone saw or heard her cry out.

The bells next to the sanctuary started ringing, signaling the start of the service. Well, she was officially late, and her arm had only gotten more painful. As her granddaughter would say, screw this. She located her keys on the ground, picked up her purse with her left hand and got in the car. Buckling the seatbelt proved to be too difficult, so she didn’t bother, and drove away listening to her car chastise her for breaking the law.

She decided to drive straight to the emergency room, because it was already ten o’clock and god knows that the later you show up at the ER the longer you have to wait. She wasn’t sure if she was more annoyed with herself for falling and breaking her arm or for forgetting her cell phone.

Eddie definitely had a broken arm. Well, technically it was only fractured, but it didn’t make much difference, she still had to wear a cast. The doctor said she was lucky for having only suffered a fracture, and even luckier that it wasn’t her hip. She was going to have to come back to get her arm casted after the swelling went down. She picked out blue, because they were out of the pink and tie-dye wouldn’t match her dress for the wedding, though she knew that’s what Susie would have wanted her to pick. She would have to wear it for five weeks, maybe longer.

She was sitting up on the edge of her hospital bed. They were supposed to come back with a prescription for pain medicine before she could leave. She was hoping the pills weren’t too big, like the ones they gave her earlier, since she had a hard time swallowing pills to begin with. But they probably would be.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said, eager. When she saw Stanley follow the nurse into the room she couldn’t have been more disappointed.

“What is he doing here?” she asked, pointing at him.

“We automatically call a person’s emergency contact when they are sixty-five years or older and they arrive at the hospital alone,” she said, stepping back and shutting the door. As if her day couldn’t get any worse, and she wasn’t embarrassed enough, now she had to see her husband (ex-husband?).

“I’m surprised you actually came,” she said to him. “I would have thought you’d be too busy with your new lover.”

“Of course I came,” he said, still standing by the door.

“It sure did take you long enough. I’ve only been here three hours.” She picked at the pills coming off of the sheets with her uninjured hand. Stanley didn’t say anything.

“Well? What were you doing? What took you so long?”

Stanley looked at the ceiling tiles and said, “I was at brunch with Kayla and I left my cell phone at home. I came as soon as I got the message.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “Don’t you dare say that woman’s name to me.” Stanley didn’t react. “Get out,” she said. When Stanley still didn’t move she got down from the bed and said it again, “Get out,” pointing towards the door. Stanley left without a word.

The next few days passed without much incident. Plans for the wedding were on track, and she went back to get her cast put on without a problem. Tyler, her son, however, called her in the middle of the night three days before the wedding. Against her better judgment, but for fear that something was wrong, she answered the phone. Then again, something was always wrong with Tyler.

“Mom,” he said, “Why didn’t you fly me in for the wedding? Do you not love me that much?”

“You know why you weren’t invited to the wedding, Tyler. It’s for reasons like this,” she said, sighing. There would be alcohol at the reception, and though Kristen had offered to keep it dry, they couldn’t control Tyler, even when he was at home.

“Do you remember when I was ten years old and you spanked me for punching Brooke?”

Eddie sighed. She knew she shouldn’t have answered the phone. “Yes, Tyler, I remember. You gave her a black eye.”

“That is so not the point, Mom. I was only ten years old. Ten fucking years old. I didn’t know any better. You did though; you answered violence with violence. You were the adult!”

“Tyler, honey, are you drunk? You need to go to bed.”

“That’s always what you think, isn’t it? Well fuck you, Mom.”

“Tyler—”

“Maybe you should take away my phone if you don’t want me calling you. Maybe you shouldn’t have spanked me as a child if you didn’t want me to turn out like this. It’s all your fault, it’s all your fault I’m so messed up,” he said, screaming into the phone. That was one of Eddie’s biggest fears, that she had in fact drove her son to this point in his life, drunkenly calling them in the middle of the night. He knew it, which is why he said it. She could feel her eyes starting to water as she hung up.

He called and left voicemails three more times before she answered again, alternating between her cell phone and the house phone.

“What the fuck, Mom? You better fucking answer the phone when I call you, you cunt.”

“Tyler honey, your dad wants to talk to you. Call his cell phone,” she said, and hung up.

Let Kayla enjoy that part of her husband’s life, she thought. She probably should have felt guilty for pawning over their screaming son to him at such a late hour, but she didn’t. She turned her cell phone off and unplugged the house phone, then lay in bed for another hour before she fell back to sleep.

            The day of the wedding was hectic, as was to be expected. Kristen was nervous, and she made Brooke redo her makeup three times before she was satisfied. Eddie remembered her own wedding day, when she similarly made the hairdresser redo her hair twice. She let her daughters and granddaughter bond and took care of Susie, who was the flower girl. Tom’s nephew, the ring bearer, got sick the night before and wasn’t able to make it. Unfortunately for Eddie, Constance’s grandson, Stephen, took his place. It was Susie’s idea. He threw a fit until his bow tie was perfectly straight, and Constance had to retie it four times until it was good enough. 

            When it came time for the ceremony, Eddie took her seat next to Stanley without saying a word. She would have rather pretended that he did not exist, but they had to keep up appearances.

            “You look lovely,” he said. She ignored him.

            As the preacher pronounced Kristen and Tom husband and wife, Eddie couldn’t help but smile, even when she met Stan’s gaze; she was so happy for her granddaughter. They took pictures between the ceremony and reception and Eddie had to hide her cast behind Stan’s back. They were seated next to each other at a table with Tom’s grandparent’s at the reception, and they laughed and told jokes at all the appropriate moments, though they avoided each other’s gaze as much as possible.

            When it was time for the couple’s first dance they stood up and walked to the dance floor, watching as they were expected to. Brooke and her boyfriend, Joe, joined in, and so did Tom’s parents. Eddie was surprised when Stan took her by the waist and led her onto the dance floor, but she tried to hide it. While they danced, it was hard for Eddie to stay angry. She felt transported back to their own wedding. They were so young and in love then; it was the happiest day of her life.

            A large part of her hoped that during this dance Stan would realize his true love for her. They would dance the whole night long, and they would go home. Instead of going next door with that trollop, he would come home with her and hold her hand as they fell asleep.

            But, of course, that did not happen.

            They finished the dance and she went back to her table. She drank three glasses of wine while he danced with Susie, and when he went to smoke a cigar with the men in the wedding party, she switched to liquor. Since she rode with Paige this morning she had to leave at the same time as Stan. They said their goodbyes to everyone and she called a cab. They arrived home at the same time, except he walked up to Kayla’s house, opening the door with a key. She went back to her empty house full of pictures that told lies, and went to sleep, laying on top of the covers and not bothering to change.

Bullets by Presto

        Authors note:

I tried to come up with a good story following my original idea, but i could never get to far into it.  Then i thought back to the memory exercise we did, and used a memory of the Janie furnace Festival that we would   have every year back in my hometown of Ohatchee.  I then asked what would happen if one of those bullets during the reenactments were real.  This led to the creation of this story.  I liked the idea of the story, but I worked myself into a blank spot.  I’m not exactly sure where I should go with the story from here.  I know Elliot will wake up in the hospital, after suffering from a gunshot wound and an infection as a result, but that I don’t know what exactly should the character’s growth from the ordeal should be.  I also have a problem with my setting and characters.  To me they both need to be flushed out more, but I’m not exactly sure how I want the characters to look like without them being stereotypical characters.  Rob will make a reappearance by the way.  I’m not sure if my dialogue and action mixed well.  I also worry about my battle scenes.  I have never done a battle scenario so this is a first for me.  I would like some tips to improve it.  Thanks for your help.

    I could see them coming from the other side of the hill.  A sea of men, around two-hundred strong, their dark blue uniforms matching the rich color of the waters of the Mobile Bay; just as my company’s gray uniforms matched the smoke of the pig-iron furnaces. Ornaments hung from their chests glimmering gold in the summer sun. 

            We raised our muskets to our shoulders and took aim at the battalion that stood before us, and they in turned did the same.  The captains of the two army’s marched out of the ranks, sabers and faced one another. 

            “Now the captains the North and South troops are about to engage each other in vocal combat, trying to get the other to surrender.  After this, the two sides will begin to fight,” said the announcer sitting on the podium on the side of the field.

            The crowd of people sitting on the makeshift bleachers gave a few “Oohs,” and “Awes” at the thought of the carnage that was about to come.  A few even began to clap and root for their favorite side.

            I was more than pleased to hear over half of them rooting for the Confederates.

            “Lets give them a good show, Elliot,” said the soldier next to me. “We don’t want them to be disappointed in the South now do we?”

            “Don’t we always, Robert.  Fire a few shots here and there.  Drop dead in a few places.  Add some yelling and cannon fire; then they go home happy and comeback the following year.”

            “You make us sound more like magicians rather than soldiers.”

            “Actors, Rob.  We’re actors.”

            “Maybe, but—“

            Whatever he was about to say was cut off when the captains began their lines.

            “Go home.  There is no room or need for you or your Yank lot down here Piron,” called our officer.

A few whistles from the crowd reached my ears.

“Surrender now Clenton and we may you the humiliation of a defeat at the Union Army.”

A few boos and you tell thems answered his call.

“Anten Furnace will fall to the hands of Yankees when the blood of me and my men feed the flowers from our stone dead bodies.”

“So death it is.”

I stepped to the right to allow the captain passage through our ranks.

When the captains reached the rear of their respective troops, they called out, “To arms.”

“It begins,” said the announcer, while the crowd went silent in anticipation, and mothers covered the ears of the young children to protect their ears from the noises that would soon start.

Somewhere on the Union side the first shot was fired and all hell broke loose. 

Both sides began to fire on each other; one or two men would drop after each volley of fire.  I went with a group that charged into the middle of the field to engage the Union troops in sword combat.  With each swing I tried to take down my target.  Some blocked with their swords, and would quickly counter.  As we had rehearsed, I would jump back at these jabs, and follow through with my own, striking my opponent in a fatal spot, and they would fall.  I did this five times, and then moved to my spot next to the rock to await for the gun shot that would take me down.

Like what was expected, it came right on time, but what was not expected was a sudden blinding pain to rack my body.

I fell to the ground in shock, letting out a scream, but it was lost among all of the other yells of fallen soldiers.  My gloved hand went to the right side of my gut, where the pain originated from.  When my fingers prodded the area, a sudden feeling of electricity shot from it and up my spine to my head.  My mind fogged up from the pain.

I lifted my hand back, already knowing what I would see.  Blood coated the gray glove. 

As my mind began to grow dark I heard someone call out, “Live round, live round.”

Whether as a result of the yelling or the blood loss the area went quiet, and then I blacked out.

            Warmth was the first thing that I noticed as my mind started to come too.  It surrounded me all over.

            No, not just around me, but inside me as well. It felt like it was inside my veins flowing through them and into all the nooks and crannies of my body.  It was comforting, like covers that just came from the dryer.  I had almost been lulled back to unconsciousness when the warmth began to heat up even further. 

            It started from my left wrist and flowed from there to my chest, and then to the rest of my bodies. No part of me felt cool, my body was burning from the inside out.

            I felt a cry attempt to leave my lips.  I tried to call out for help, but it felt like something was stuck in it. 

            My eyes sprang open in order to see what in my mouth; only for bright light to force them to shut again.  It burned my eyes almost as bad as the fire in my veins was burning my lungs. 

            My hand reached up to grab at the intrusion, but was met with resistance.  About halfway up something snapped around my wrist.  I tried to pull my hand free, but either the thing that held my hand was extremely strong or I was very weak.

            I lifted my legs up to try and kick at the thing that held me.  My foot made contact with something, and then my hands were free.  I moved to roll over, but again my hands were locked down, and so were my legs this time.  I refused to give up.  I wiggled any way that I could, but the iron like hold of whatever was pressing my limbs down refused to give any room.

            A pinch in my left arm, just above my elbow, made struggle even more against my restraints. Still there was no give.

            The only change seemed to be the area where the pinch took place; a coldness entered my body.  It followed the same path as the burning.  Where it went, the heat began to die down until it was no more than a flicking ember.  Following the cool relief, was a numbness.  I went through my body, to every muscle and joint, and shut it down.  I could not move no longer how much I tried.  What scared me the most was the fact that I began not to care.  I just wanted to float away on the numbness and go back to sleep.  My brain couldn’t offer any reason to resist it. 

            Once again I began to fall unconscious.

           

            Noise filled the air.  Gun fire rang out, followed by the low boom of cannon fire.  Groups of people met in the middle of the large field, exchanging sword strokes and blows, some hitting and missing there targets.

            Men on both sides began to drop down, as if they had died.

            The announcer on the platform made commentaries here and there about how one man had just shot another with a musket, or how a certain group just fell to cannon fire.

            “Mawmaw, why are they fighting,” I  asked the older woman sitting on the bench next to me.

            “Because they don’t get along with each other,” she had said.

            “Why not?”

            “Both sides had different views on how the country should be run.  One side felt their opinions weren’t getting heard and got mad.  They then separated themselves to form their own country.  The other side didn’t like it, and tried to ignore that decision.  Somewhere along the way shots were fired and the Civil War started,” she said while never looking away from the field.

            “Oh. Then shouldn’t someone go up them and stop them.”

            “No sweetie.  They’re just acting out a battle.  It’s like a show, but we actually get to watch it in real life.”

            “Acting out a battle?  Why would they do that,” I asked. 

            The sounds of gunfire and cannons began to slowly fade away as just a few men on each side were left standing.  They began to run together in a final bout.

            “To keep our history alive, and so we never forget where we come from.  Each one of these battles real men fought and died to protect their believes.  Now we honor them by not forgetting their sacrifices.  By not forgetting we find connections to our past and use them to make our future. Like for instance your great great great grandfather actually fought in this particular battle.  Right now though no one is playing his role because there is no one related to him among the actors.”

            “So I could play him then?”  The idea of playing my grandfather among those men was an interesting thought to me. 

            “You could one day.  But first, you need to grow up some.  I doubt a five year old could handle a musket,” she said as she placed her hand on my brown hair and ruffled it.

            Just then a trumpet sounded at the last soldier on the blue side fell, and the announcer yelled out “The Union soldiers had fallen and the Confederates have won.”

            The crowd stood up and cheered for the soldiers, the winners and the fallen.