Short Story

Alabamy

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for OLWG #409. The three prompts are
shown below. I have incorporated some lines
from a piece I wrote a few years ago. This is my take.

© Dreamstime

Mid-August in Alabamy is ‘bout as hot as hell’s back kitchen, or at least that’s what folks ‘round these parts like to say. It was juss me ‘n’ ma makin’ do as best we could since my pa got hisself killed in some place called Vietnam. I don’t recall much ‘bout the day we got the news. Couple soldiers in fancy uniforms come to the door ‘n’ mama started wailin’ like she was bein’ skinned alive. Ma never got over that. Some folks said she went plum crazy that day. She’d sit on the porch in that rickety ol’ rockin’ chair starin’ straight ahead, juss mumblin’  ‘n’ fidgetin’ with pa’s dog tags like they was goddamn ros’ry beads.

I sorta became invisible to ma so I started spendin’ my time down by the waterin’ hole mostly swimmin’ ‘n’ fishin’ so we’d have us somethin’ to eat. I went huntin’ one day, surprisin’ ma with a rabbit ‘n’ she cooked it up fer dinner. Ma hugged me real tight ‘n’ put pa’s dog tags ‘round my neck. Next mornin’ I found her hangin’ in the barn; I started screamin’ till the neighbors come a-runnin’. That’s when I went to live with the Jenkins clan. I weren’t yet ten years old.

The Jenkins’, they was good hard-workin’ farm folk. They treated me real fine. They had a truckload o’ kids – eight boys ‘n’ one gal – but they didn’t think twice ‘bout takin’ me in. Ma Jenkins always said “Kids fill a house with love. What’s one mo’ mouth to feed?”

The days moved slower’n molasses in January. I knew right quick that workin’ them fields wern’t fer me but I did my share ev’ry day juss the same. When I was ‘bout 15 or so, Ma Jenkins said I shot right up into a handsome devil, the spittin’ image of my pa. Right ‘bout the same time I started takin’ up with Nell Jenkins. Six years older’n me, she was all legs, boobs ‘n’ big sky blue eyes. We made love ev’ry night. She taught me stuff I didn’t think was possible. Somehow we never got ourselfs caught. We was crazy fer each other but I wern’t lookin’ to git hitched. I knew if I didn’t git myself off that god-forsaken Alabamy plantation, I’d die there. One night while Nell slept, I placed pa’s dog tags on the bed ‘n’ slipped out. I was 17.  

I lied ‘bout my age ‘n’ got me a job as a long distance trucker; hard as it was, it beat the hell outta farmin’. Shit! Where’ve the years gone to? I been truckin’ now fer 16 long years. I’m only 33 years ol’ ‘n’ dog tired; I feel like I’m 103. I been thinkin’ a lot ‘bout Alabamy lately – reckon I could settle down, git me a job at Green’s Hardware Store.

Few days later I up ‘n’ quit my truckin’ job ‘n’ headed on back to where it all started.

NAR©2025
#OLWG

Here are the prompts: 1) in tall cotton; 2) the Oklahoma line; 3) in the low lands too long. We can use one, we can use three or none at all. We just need to be creative.

This is “Dixieland” by Buddy Bolden

OLWG#409- La Llarona, My Take

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy’s Notes 🖊️ 🎶, The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, The Rhythm Section, et al. and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

37 thoughts on “Alabamy”

  1. Yer so good at creatin’ stories, Nancy. I was right there ‘n feelin’ all the feels that your MC was keepin’ quiet about cuz that’s just the way things were. Ain’t nuthin’ you kin do ’bout stuff, y’know. So you jes do what you gots to do and when the time’s right, well, you do somethin’ else.

    Fabulous voice, seriously!

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  3. This was a brilliant story Nancy…. Painful but brilliant. The fact that his ma knew when he could cope without out her….the fact the poorest family took him in….the fact he grew good….the fact he couldn’t get away fast enough only to find his compass brought him back to the beginning…. Just perfect Nancy 💜 💜💜

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