TOAD SUCK, Arkansas

by Danna Shirley 

            When the Arkansas River was low, too low for travel, the Emma Belle would put in to dock and wait for deeper water. The passengers stayed on board for a time but the crew had been off dry land long enough so they quickly found the local tavern to wet their whistle. There were more than a few eruptions during these times for the town folk to get thoroughly disgruntled. They reported the crew would suck on the bottle ‘til they swelled up like toads. Hence the name Toad Suck.

            Now Capt. Jolley joined right along with the crew but not before he made sure the passengers were settled in for the night. And of course, he didn’t frequent the same pub. He had to maintain authority to keep discipline intact so he went a little farther uptown to a more genteel establishment . . . The Red Hot Garter.

            Capt. J. was more polished than the usual riverboat captain. He’d gone all the way to sixth grade due to his Aunt Polly’s pesterings. And it had paid off ’cause now he had his own boat and could navigate the river with the best of them. It was totally dark when the lights from inside the Garter beckoned him.

            “Hey, Cap’n,” yelled Dixie from the bar when he walked inside. “The usual?”

            He nodded and sat down in a secluded corner to wait for the show. Dixie had as much of a turnover with her ladies as he did with his crew. It was not a stable environment in either profession. But he was just here for the entertainment and nothing more.

            Then she appeared on stage. Beautiful, stately, majestic. Dixie delivered his drink and he gave her a questioning look. She shrugged and smiled with a twinkle in her eye and went back to her duties at the bar.

            Who was this lovely lady who sang like a nightingale? He looked at the marquee. It read:

Sweet Lily Delaney

Appearing Nightly ~ Limited Engagement

          Capt. J. was awestruck. He sat blurry-eyed, almost in a trance, mesmerized by this angelic creature. He had never once before thought of leaving the river but now the thoughts of settling down and standing on solid ground whirled around his head. He could do it. Yes, he would do it for this Sweet Lily.

            She finished her song and he motioned her to his table. She floated toward him, barely touching the wooden planks of the floor. Wait! Did he see a halo surrounding her beautiful golden locks? Boy, the mind can play tricks on a person.

            She seated herself across from him and he gave Dixie the high sign to bring two more drinks. They arrived and Lily swigged down the whole thing at once and slammed the empty mug on the table with a crude thud. Then she wiped the foam from her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled at him through crooked, rotten teeth. He grimaced and turned his head away. Yes, the mind can play terrible tricks, indeed.

            That’s when Capt. J. began sucking on the bottle ‘til he swelled up like a toad. His crew found him the next morning and carried him back to his beloved Emma Belle.

POSSUMNECK, Mississippi

© 2012 Danna Shirley

            Here she was in rural Mississippi almost out of gas and didn’t know how to get back to civilization. The sign caught her by surprise and she had to chuckle. Now what kind of place is Possumneck? Should she follow the sign and hope for a service station or make a U-turn and be glad to escape with her life? But what if she got stranded on the side of the road? It was almost dusk and that would be worse. She had seen the movie Deliverance—once! She decided to move forward. Surely the residents of Possumneck bought gas, too.

            The weather was pleasant for late summer and her convertible drive was beautiful. Green grass, tall trees, clear skies. Not at all like the smoggy, cement and steel landscape where she lived. Lilly had decided long ago that her vacations would be away from the city. She would seek out a country setting, rent a car, and just drive. But Possumneck? Well, she’d been pleased and surprised before on these adventures.

            She slowed her pace and just took in the scenery; a field of black cows grazing to her right, ponds dotted here and there with the locals fishing and waving as she drove by. Squirrels and possum; they seemed to be fearless crossing the road. It was very flat country; nothing over the next hill, it was always around the next bend.

And the trees! Oh, the trees were beautiful. Lilly liked visiting the trees most of all. Their appearance could be tall and striking, pine or oak, scrub, or covered in kudzu. Even though she’d heard kudzu was a nuisance and could ruin a landscape or a crop, she found it as beautiful as ivy ornamenting a monastery wall.

            Not too many cars drove by leaving Possumneck but each one that did raised a finger or waved a greeting as they passed. At first she thought, Do I know them? Surely not! Then she realized this was the south, these were country people, friendly, welcoming; utterly refreshing from the cold, calculating, and stony city where she lived.

Around the next bend came her first glimpse of Possumneck. It was only a mile long and yes, there was a gas station, as well as a grocery, a bank, a Feed & Seed, and a donut shop. She pulled in and turned off the ignition. Two barefoot boys in short-pant overalls greeted her chomping on a big wad of Double Bubble.

            “Hey, lady,” one asked, “yer not from ’round here, are ya?”

            Well, she’d heard that one before. “No, I’m just visiting. Do you know where I can get a bite to eat?”

            “Sure, lady,” the other answered. “We gotta Wendy’s,” he said proudly.

            “I was thinking more of a nice sit-down restaurant. Do you have one of those?”

            They both looked puzzled. Maybe they had never eaten in one before.

            “Well, ya can come home with us. We gotta nice sit-down table and mom’s a good cook. She likes havin’ comp'ny.”

            “How sweet but I couldn’t impose on your family time.”

            One of the boys opened the gas door and began pumping. “It’ll be okay—we bring strays home all the time.”

            Lilly smiled and wondered if they’d ever brought home a human stray before. “What are your names?”
            “I’m Lucius, Luke for short” said the boy pumping gas, “and that there’s Hubbard, Hub for short. I’m the oldest,” he said proudly.

            “Yeah,” said Hub. “But I’m not the baby! We gotta baby sister at home.”

            “What’s her name?”

            “She’s Henrietta, but we call her Etta for short—not Henry.”

            With the gas pumped and paid for we headed the car through town. Trusting little souls. I guess life is safer in the country. About a mile later the boys directed me to a left turn on a gravel road through a canopy of trees. I saw nothing until we exited into a plantation setting. The property was like a beautiful postcard; gently rolling pastures filled with cows, a barn, a lake, wildlife everywhere, deer, turkeys. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We pulled up to the front door of a huge, almost resort-like log cabin.

            The boys jumped out and ran inside leaving me to wonder what I should do next. In short order their mother stood on the porch wiping her hands on an apron. “Hello,” she smiled. “Come on in. I’m Mae and you got here just in time for dinner.”

            “I’m Lilly,” I replied. Now I really felt out of place. Everyone was so friendly and I felt like an intruder on this perfect setting. I hesitated until Mae came off the porch and led me inside. The cabin was picture perfect, as well. Rustic high beams, a huge mantel over the fireplace at one end of a large living area, lots of country adornment; quilt wall hangings, afghans thrown over antique rockers, oil paintings, deer heads, mounted fish, comfortable leather couches and recliners. They must entertain a good deal, I thought, to need all of this room.

Then my thoughts gravitated to the kitchen as the smells stirred my senses. Mae led me to a large country table with benches on one side and high-back chairs on the other. I could tell it was very old from the wear and smoothness of serving meals to generations of family and friends. And that’s how I felt, already a friend.

“This must be Etta,” I exclaimed as I stroked the blond head of a little girl in a highchair and sat down next to her. I had been in awe since entering the cabin and had lost the conversation Mae had been streaming at me. I finally focused and answered her. “Yes, I’m just driving around your beautiful country enjoying some leisure time away from my job.”

“Well, I’m glad the boys found you. We love havin’ comp’ny. My brother’s been helping take care of the place. He’ll be here soon. Would you like to help cut up some tomatoes and onions for the salad?”

“I’m not much of a cook,” I offered, “but I can do that.” She placed a big bowl of lettuce in front of me with a cutting board and a knife for the other ingredients. I wasn’t very fast but I was getting the job done when I heard footsteps on the porch. A tall, handsome man entered speaking the beginning of a question.

“Whose car is that out . . .” He stopped abruptly as he spied me at the table.

Mae intervened with introductions. “This is my brother, Al. Al, this is Lilly. She’ll be with us for dinner.”

“Great!” he smiled, and sat down across from me. “Here, let me help you with that.” He picked up a knife and began slicing, never taking his electric blue eyes off of me.

I smiled back. Possumneck, Mississippi . . . what a wide, wonderful place you are. 

Short story for Creative Writing Class, Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN

HOPEULIKIT, Georgia

© 2012 Danna Shirley

Short story for Creative Writing Class, Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN

Nicholas and Beatrice were dressed in their finest and arrived in their brand new 1934 Sedan to celebrate. They had driven many miles to dance the night away at the Hopeulikit Hall. For some reason this little establishment had stolen the bright lights and big city of Atlanta and the ‘in’ crowd was moving out to the country to listen and dance to the big bands of the day. Also strange was the fact that the big bands were fighting to book a weekend at the Hopeulikit. 

When they walked into the room, they understood why. It was as elegant and stylish as any New York nightclub. The chandeliers were opulent and set at just the right lighting for a romantic atmosphere of dining and dancing. Tables with fresh flowers circled the main dance area made of beautiful hard wood floors and a half balcony of tables looked down from above. The band platform was at one end of the room where soothing and melodic sounds were already being distributed to the four corners.

This was not like the wild and frenzied clubs of the Roaring 20’s but something new and pleasant. They had been there, done that, and wanted a change of pace. Maturity was setting in with the couple. As they looked around the room, it was apparent that others were seeking the same peace and serenity. Nicholas checked their belongings and they requested a table on the upper floor.

Looking out over the balcony, Bea noticed her friend, Janice, across the room walking toward a table in the corner, but the handsome man sitting there was not her husband. Bea turned her face but not her eyes as she watched the man rise and give Janice a hug and peck.

What to do; what to do. She wished she had not seen this. Should she mention it to Nick? Should she tell him they must leave before Janice saw her? This place was so out-of-the-way she must have thought they would be safe to meet here alone.

Nick lifted his glass to Bea, “To you my darling on our twelfth anniversary. May we enjoy many, many more.”

Bea smiled and clinked her glass with Nick’s. Then a realization gripped her mind. We attended Jim and Janice’s anniversary party just a few months ago, and now here she is with another man.   

Nick was speaking to her but she wasn’t listening. He touched her arm. “Would you like to dance?”

Yes, she wanted to but what if they danced too closely to their table. Bea didn’t want to take any chances to be seen by her. Then Janice would know she had gotten caught.

“Well, Bea?” Nick asked again.

She took his hand and they descended the stairs to the dance floor. She tried to lead him away from that side of the room but he kept spinning and twirling her everywhere. Finally, she was lost in the music and Nick’s arms.  

“Look, there’s someone we know.” Nick began dancing toward their table.

Bea tried to avoid eye contact but could feel her face rising pink. When they reached the corner table and she looked up, there sat Jim with his arm around his wife. The handsome man sat opposite them.

“Nick and Bea, I would like you to meet Janice’s brother, Charles. He is visiting from California and we wanted to show him this new place we found.”

Bea breathed a deep sigh of relief and smiled. “So happy to meet you, Charles. So, very, very happy!”

BUCKSNORT, Tennessee

© 2012 Danna Shirley

Jerusha were a fine country fella. Took care a his wife 'n kids. Took care a his farm 'n crops 'n  livestock. He just plain took good care a everthin’. But when he got a hankerin’ 'n felt real sorry for hisself, he just had ta make thet two mile trek to Buck’s ’cause he had the best shine in the county.

No matter Maribelle gave him the ol’ evil-eye. He’d pay fer thet later he knew. Boy, she were like a hound dog on a hunt 'n could tell when he were restless. She knew what were comin’ 'n didn’t miss a lick in lettin’ him hear 'bout it neither . . . afore and after. Thet was all well 'n good but he could handle Maribelle. Right now he were out the door 'n on his way to Buck’s for a snort. It were just a plain have-to sometime when a man had his fill; when he had ta drown his regrets afore he could get back on track.

Jerusha Jacob Dixon were thirty-five year old 'n been married most half his life. He loved Maribelle 'n she loved him but marriage were marriage. He had good kids, too, boys Ethan 'n Daniel, 'n his precious little Gracie were the apple a his eye. He’d ne'er abuse ’em but still had ta get away from ’em e'er now 'n then.

Now Maribelle were good with the crafts, makin' quilts 'n such. They could count on a few extra pennies from folks traveling through ta the east . . . or the west. She hung them quilts on the porch 'n them city folk were plum amazed at her handiwork. Jerusha were right proud.

Now Buck were a no-account fella but he were good ta get soused with . . . a roarin’ two-fisted drinker 'n if need be, he’d cry in his shine right along with ya. E'er so often he’d say somethin’ weighty that’d make ya feel a bit better’n when ya first come. It were puzzlin’ how he could be so worthless 'n be so handy at the same time. Ta-night Jerusha were hoping Buck would hit the nail on the head fer him.


“Hey, there, ol’ Buck,” Jerusha yelled out afore walkin' inta camp. Ever’body knew better than to surprise Buck; they’d be gettin’ a surprise ’emselves with some buckshot in their behind.

“Thet you, there, Jerusha?” Buck yelled back.

“I come a callin’ fer some shine 'n some words.”

“Then come ahead on.”

Jerusha made his way over ta the well-worn log 'n sat, his elbows on his knees 'n his head hung low. Buck handed him a tin cup of shine 'n waited.

“So, what words ya wantin’ ta hear, there, Jerusha?”

“I want ya ta say my life ain’t been wasted. Thet I got somethin’ to live fer.”

“Somethin’ to live fer? A course ya got somethin’ to live fer! Just look at me. I got no family, no wife nor kids. I live in the woods 'n only get comp’ny when they’s a wantin’ some shine. Nobody loves me, not like that there Maribelle a yor’n. Yer not thinkin’ a doin’ somethin’ stupid, air ya?”

“Justa thinkin’.”

“Well, let me hep ya out. If yer thinkin’ ’bout leavin’, that’s a mighty fine thot. Mighty fine! Yes sir! Ya pack up yer duds 'n move on down the road. I’ll be a goin’ o'er ta comfert yer Maribelle 'n take real good care a her . . . 'n them young’uns, too. Ya don’t have ta worry ’bout nothin’. I kin live right nice in thet there cabin a yor’n 'n other things, too, iffin ya knows what I mean?”

“Now, you just hold on right there, ol’ Buck.” Jerusha stood 'n threw his tin cup on the ground. He had fire in his eyes now, just like his belly. “Yer not touchin’ nothin’ thet’s mine!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, ya just wait 'n see!”

“No, you wait ya ol' scoundrel! I’m a goin’ home 'n yer ne'er gonna see me agin, 'n ya better not e'er come ’round my place, neither!”

“Thet so?”

“Yer darn right thet’s so!” Jerusha stomped off in the dark fussin’ 'n fumin’ thet thet there ol’ shiner would e'er think ’bout touchin’ his Maribelle.

The first mile home give him thinkin’ time ’bout what just took place. By the end a the second mile he were smilin’ 'n almost racin’ ta get home ta his Maribelle. There she stood on the porch 'round them quilts with her hands on her hips just awaitin’ ta light inta him. He took the steps two atta time, grabbed her inta his arms, 'n laid one salacious smack on them beautiful lips. He picked her up 'n carried her inta the house with her holdin’ on fer dear life.

Yep, that’s right. Ol’ Buck had hit the nail right on the head agin.