I thought the same at first but I expected you to be above my level of thought!!!C- word? Whatever do you mean OS?
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Mine Misery
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
(She wants it... Don't tell anyone)View attachment 444516 Owwww ... What did I say?
windar
Teller of Tales
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
His childhood memoriesC- word? Whatever do you mean OS?
Last edited:
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Why does Tree always lay where he oughtn't?Listen, pal, what's blocking their progress to freedom? A Tree. Nuff said.
He wasWhy does Tree always lay where he oughtn't?
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
windar
Teller of Tales
I recommend the first one. A drunken fall from there shouldn't do too much damage.
It's less crooked than our Tree
Oh, and by the way, that episode had my heart pounding, Windar!
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
He hasn't fallen yet. It's Tree crawling to the passage.
'The dead tree is a very good guideWhy does Tree always lay where he oughtn't?
if you follow the drinking gourd...'
or, maybe,
'The dead drunk Tree is a very poor guide
If he's swallowed the drinking gourd'
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
'The dead drunk Tree is a very poor guide
If he's swallowed the drinking gourd'
windar
Teller of Tales
'The dead tree is a very good guide
if you follow the drinking gourd...'
or, maybe,
'The dead drunk Tree is a very poor guide
If he's swallowed the drinking gourd'
Of course, the Underground Railroad was headed to Canada, home of Seagram's
. So Tree hopped a ride.
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 18 The End of the Chase (Sheriff John Miller 6)
“Come on! Over here, quickly!” I yelled. Waiting for them to make their way through the brush, I tried lifting the trunk of fallen spruce tree blocking the entrance to the side passage, but it wouldn’t budge. Would three women and two men be enough to move this obstacle that stood between us and escape? It would have to be, or we were all dead. I had heard of desperate people performing seemingly impossible feats of strength and that is what we would need here.
As soon as the others arrived, somewhat out of breath from fighting through the underbrush, I ordered everyone to grasp one of the larger branches of the fallen tree. “We need everyone lifting with everything you have,” I urged. “Quickly!” They all scrambled into position, conscious of the posse coming ever closer.
“On three; one, two, three!” I felt the tree rise slightly off the ground, but not nearly enough for us to get under it. “Again!” I shouted. A bit better but still not enough. Finally, on the third try, every one straining like mad, the heavy trunk rose off the ground.
“Brace it with your knees!” I yelled. George and I managed to get each get a leg under the trunk, with the women doing their best to help. I saw a large rock lying near Barb. “Barb!” I shouted, out of breath, “Wedge that rock under the trunk!” She let go of the tree and ran to get it, rolling it end over end until it was wedged into the space between the tree and the ground, leaving just enough space that a person could scramble under the trunk.
“OK, you can let go,” I said. Everyone looked relieved, wheezing for breath from the exertion. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I asked. “The posse isn’t waiting.” Pat took the lead and crawled through the gap under the trunk. Everyone followed her, me bringing up the rear. Once we were all through, I got George to help me remove the rock so that the tree again blocked the way in. If our pursuers found the spot, that would at least slow them down.
The side passageway was its own world, dim, even in daytime, the walls encrusted with moss. It was even colder there than it had been outside; our breath rose in clouds of vapor. We had to pick our way slowly over the icy rocks, but, we made steady, if painstaking, progress.
Finally, up ahead, was the end of the passageway. And it looked to be open! “Look!” I shouted, pointing.
The women began jumping up and down, whether for joy, or just to keep warm, I wasn’t sure. Sarah hugged me, Pat hugged me, reluctantly, even Barb hugged me. George smiled at me, shook his head, and hugged me too.
Eventually, I had to stop them. “We’re not there yet. Let’s keep moving!”
Emerging from the passageway, we pushed through the trees to find the path again, following it as it began to descend. Soon, we came upon the beginnings of another brook, this one flowing down towards freedom on the other side.
I stopped for a moment. “Listen,” I said. “What do you hear?”
“Nothing,” Pat replied.
“That’s right,” I said, “No dogs, no posse. They must be scratching their heads wondering where we disappeared to.” We allowed ourselves a small cheer before continuing on.
Soon, the conifers diminished and were replaced with hardwoods. It was noticeably warmer and the ground was sloping much more gradually. Rarely, if ever, had I felt better.
Then, as we rounded a bend in the trail, we came upon two men, both with rifles pointed straight at us. “Halt! Who goes there?” one of them cried. We froze. He whistled and several more people appeared out of the woods, all with rifles pointed at us.
Had the posse somehow out flanked us? Or were these rebel slaves patrolling the boundaries of their territory against attack from outside? I knew most of the deputies in this county and none of them were among those pointing guns at us. I also noticed that the one standing closest to me was a woman, as were a few of the others and I was pretty sure Sheriff Wilson’s posse wouldn’t have included women. Either way, we were in no position to argue.
“Put that rifle on the ground slowly,” the woman nearest me, who seemed to be in charge, ordered. I complied, kneeling to lay it down. “Got any pistols?” she asked. I nodded, slowly extracting mine and laying it at my feet. George did the same with his. One of the men came over and collected our guns.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m John Miller, Sheriff of Durham County, the next county over,” I said. I could see that didn’t please them. “But, I’m defecting to your side. These two are my daughters,” I said, indicating Barb and Sarah. “And this is her mother,” I told them, pointing, in turn, to Pat and Barb. “They are slaves escaping from the salt mine, and he is an overseer who helped them to get out,” I finished, indicating George.
“We will have to take you to our leadership council. They will decide about your story,” she replied.
They formed us into a column with two of them leading the way and the rest behind us, rifles trained on our backs. We descended the rest of the way to the valley, finally entering a small settlement made up of humble houses. The inhabitants came out to look at us, curious but not hostile.
Our guards escorted us to the central area of the town, into a building somewhat larger than the others. “Sit down and wait here,” the woman in charge told us, indicating some chairs arranged in a semi-circle, leaving the others to watch us.
Soon she returned with a group of seven, mixed men and women. They asked us quite a few questions about who we were, how we had escaped and whether we wanted to join them, all which we answered truthfully. They stepped over to the corner of the room and conferred in low voices. Finally, they returned to stand in front of us.
The man who appeared to be the most senior cleared his throat. “We accept your stories as true. Welcome to freedom.” He reached out to shake my hand and the others reached out to shake hands with the rest of our party. We were free! Free at last!
THE END
“Come on! Over here, quickly!” I yelled. Waiting for them to make their way through the brush, I tried lifting the trunk of fallen spruce tree blocking the entrance to the side passage, but it wouldn’t budge. Would three women and two men be enough to move this obstacle that stood between us and escape? It would have to be, or we were all dead. I had heard of desperate people performing seemingly impossible feats of strength and that is what we would need here.
As soon as the others arrived, somewhat out of breath from fighting through the underbrush, I ordered everyone to grasp one of the larger branches of the fallen tree. “We need everyone lifting with everything you have,” I urged. “Quickly!” They all scrambled into position, conscious of the posse coming ever closer.
“On three; one, two, three!” I felt the tree rise slightly off the ground, but not nearly enough for us to get under it. “Again!” I shouted. A bit better but still not enough. Finally, on the third try, every one straining like mad, the heavy trunk rose off the ground.
“Brace it with your knees!” I yelled. George and I managed to get each get a leg under the trunk, with the women doing their best to help. I saw a large rock lying near Barb. “Barb!” I shouted, out of breath, “Wedge that rock under the trunk!” She let go of the tree and ran to get it, rolling it end over end until it was wedged into the space between the tree and the ground, leaving just enough space that a person could scramble under the trunk.
“OK, you can let go,” I said. Everyone looked relieved, wheezing for breath from the exertion. “Well, what are you waiting for?” I asked. “The posse isn’t waiting.” Pat took the lead and crawled through the gap under the trunk. Everyone followed her, me bringing up the rear. Once we were all through, I got George to help me remove the rock so that the tree again blocked the way in. If our pursuers found the spot, that would at least slow them down.
The side passageway was its own world, dim, even in daytime, the walls encrusted with moss. It was even colder there than it had been outside; our breath rose in clouds of vapor. We had to pick our way slowly over the icy rocks, but, we made steady, if painstaking, progress.
Finally, up ahead, was the end of the passageway. And it looked to be open! “Look!” I shouted, pointing.
The women began jumping up and down, whether for joy, or just to keep warm, I wasn’t sure. Sarah hugged me, Pat hugged me, reluctantly, even Barb hugged me. George smiled at me, shook his head, and hugged me too.
Eventually, I had to stop them. “We’re not there yet. Let’s keep moving!”
Emerging from the passageway, we pushed through the trees to find the path again, following it as it began to descend. Soon, we came upon the beginnings of another brook, this one flowing down towards freedom on the other side.
I stopped for a moment. “Listen,” I said. “What do you hear?”
“Nothing,” Pat replied.
“That’s right,” I said, “No dogs, no posse. They must be scratching their heads wondering where we disappeared to.” We allowed ourselves a small cheer before continuing on.
Soon, the conifers diminished and were replaced with hardwoods. It was noticeably warmer and the ground was sloping much more gradually. Rarely, if ever, had I felt better.
Then, as we rounded a bend in the trail, we came upon two men, both with rifles pointed straight at us. “Halt! Who goes there?” one of them cried. We froze. He whistled and several more people appeared out of the woods, all with rifles pointed at us.
Had the posse somehow out flanked us? Or were these rebel slaves patrolling the boundaries of their territory against attack from outside? I knew most of the deputies in this county and none of them were among those pointing guns at us. I also noticed that the one standing closest to me was a woman, as were a few of the others and I was pretty sure Sheriff Wilson’s posse wouldn’t have included women. Either way, we were in no position to argue.
“Put that rifle on the ground slowly,” the woman nearest me, who seemed to be in charge, ordered. I complied, kneeling to lay it down. “Got any pistols?” she asked. I nodded, slowly extracting mine and laying it at my feet. George did the same with his. One of the men came over and collected our guns.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m John Miller, Sheriff of Durham County, the next county over,” I said. I could see that didn’t please them. “But, I’m defecting to your side. These two are my daughters,” I said, indicating Barb and Sarah. “And this is her mother,” I told them, pointing, in turn, to Pat and Barb. “They are slaves escaping from the salt mine, and he is an overseer who helped them to get out,” I finished, indicating George.
“We will have to take you to our leadership council. They will decide about your story,” she replied.
They formed us into a column with two of them leading the way and the rest behind us, rifles trained on our backs. We descended the rest of the way to the valley, finally entering a small settlement made up of humble houses. The inhabitants came out to look at us, curious but not hostile.
Our guards escorted us to the central area of the town, into a building somewhat larger than the others. “Sit down and wait here,” the woman in charge told us, indicating some chairs arranged in a semi-circle, leaving the others to watch us.
Soon she returned with a group of seven, mixed men and women. They asked us quite a few questions about who we were, how we had escaped and whether we wanted to join them, all which we answered truthfully. They stepped over to the corner of the room and conferred in low voices. Finally, they returned to stand in front of us.
The man who appeared to be the most senior cleared his throat. “We accept your stories as true. Welcome to freedom.” He reached out to shake my hand and the others reached out to shake hands with the rest of our party. We were free! Free at last!
THE END
windar
Teller of Tales
Thus ends this saga of slavery and freedom, though life in freedom among the rebels will doubtless involve many struggles. Barb and I thank you for reading and for your perceptive comments.
"Whenever I hear any one arguing for slavery I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally."-Abraham Lincoln, March 17, 1865.
"Whenever I hear any one arguing for slavery I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally."-Abraham Lincoln, March 17, 1865.
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
Phew!
I could do with a drop of their moonshine to help me recover from that story, well told with a good cliff-hanger.
Barbara is having a lot more luck now you've come, windar. The jury's still out whether that's a good thing, though on balance I think she deserves a rest from all that reincarnating.
I could do with a drop of their moonshine to help me recover from that story, well told with a good cliff-hanger.
Barbara is having a lot more luck now you've come, windar. The jury's still out whether that's a good thing, though on balance I think she deserves a rest from all that reincarnating.