The Magic Toboggan Ride (For kids seven to ten, or us old folks)

The Magic Toboggan Ride

The Abernathy Plantation, in North Carolina


Langdon Abernathy was asleep in his cozy room, on his father’s plantation, “The Abernathy Plantation” in North Carolina, twenty-one miles outside of Fayetteville, his cousin Cassandra Hightower, from New Orleans was up visiting, it was Christmas season. Langdon was three years older than Cassandra and Langdon was now ten-years old, making Cassandra all of seven. It was 1961, December, one week to Christmas. He was asleep, and Cassandra was asleep next door to Langdon’s bedroom on the second floor of the house. Everyone in the house, both Langdon and Cassandra’s parents were asleep also.
Langdon was cuddled up around several stuffed animals, nice and warm, and Cassandra had her goldfish in a bowel by her bed, the fish jumping up and down in its water, it comforted her, she would wake up now and then to see how her goldfish was doing, a nice, fat and shinny gold colored fish.
And then they both woke up at the same time. And so they were both awake, but their eyes were closed, and Langdon felt for his one big teddy bear, and he was soft, and started to fall back to sleep, Cassandra heard her fish jumping in the water thinking that is what woke her up, and she started to fall back to sleep, her eyes still half closed. But they both heard a noise at the window, so instead of falling back to sleep instead they opened their eyes, Cassandra lay still looking at the fish, and the window, not knowing where the noise was coming from, she was warm and it was cold outside, with an inch of snow, and she did not want to get out of bed to check to see if a bird or squirrel was knocking at the window, thinking, that was the reason behind the noise.
But the noise got louder and louder, and Langdon came over to her bedroom, knocked on the door, and she said, “Who is it?” and Langdon said, “It is me, Langdon.”
“Oh,” said Cassandra, “come in,” and he did, “do you hear that strange noise at your window, also?” asked Langdon.
She opened her mouth to say ‘yes,’ but then a small twig, hit the window, as if there was a magical pigeon making a nest on the outside window sill, but when Langdon went to look outside the window, it wasn’t that at all.
Langdon looked at the clock, it was 2:00 AM, then looked out the window with Cassandra, saw a man down below their window, “Who can it be?” asked Cassandra, opening up her eyes wider, trying to get a better view.
“Oh!” said Langdon, “that’s old Josh, our plantation hand, he works for my pa, wonder what he wants?”
Langdon opened up the window, there standing right under it was the old Negro, Josh, with his old warn out face, his black hair, dotted with white, so white it looked like it glowed with the snow, that shinned with the outside arch light.
He wore an old blue coat, and blue shirt, and blue pants, and big black shoes, and a brown wooden cane that was round at the top so he could put his palm on top of it, and he had big old shoulders, very wide, he was seventy-one years old, born in 1890. His grandfather was Silas Jefferson, came from Ozark, Alabama, and he would often tell Josh his son, old stories about those far-off days, about the Civil War in America, and so forth, along with fairy tales of all kinds, magical tales.
“What’s up Old Josh,” said Langdon, his head and shoulder’s half out of the window, Cassandra putttng her head out also, but it was cold, so she didn’t dare put her shoulders out.
Little white sparks of snow drifted down onto Old Josh’s jacket, “Come down here, I is goin’ to tell you an old story, meet you in the barn.”
Every Christmas season, around Christmas time, Old Josh would come and wake up Langdon, and they’d meet in the barn and he’d tell him a Christmas story, Langdon never knew when he would exactly come wake him up, but it was the only thing Old Josh could afford to give as a gift, he didn’t have any money to speak of, he lived on the plantation, behind the barn, the barn had cows and horses in it, it was warmer than Josh’s old shack of a house, so it was always there that they went.

“Do you want to come along?” asked Langdon, to Cassandra.
“Oh yes, I wouldn’t miss this for even a good movie on T.V., it sounds exciting, let me get dressed in warmer cloths and I’ll meet you in the kitchen down stars.”
“Yes,” said Langdon, “I’ll do the same, meet you downstairs in a minute.”
So she dressed putting on warmer socks, and her shoes, and a hat, and pants instead of her dress, nothing matched her eyes or hair, but it was warm. She looked out her window; there still was a light sprinkle of snow coming down. Then she headed on down to the kitchen to meet Langdon.

“I’m happy it is snowing in December, a week before Christmas,” said Langdon to Cassandra, not disappointed at all with the snow.
“I think it might stop by morning, it looks as if it has almost stopped now,” said Cassandra, as they opened the back door of the kitchen up, and there was old Josh waiting to walk them down to the barn.
The few trees on the way, their branches, bare branches, were all covered with snow, they looked like frosted skinny men, almost like skeletons, in the shadowy dark of the night, to Cassandra.
“It’s kind of spooky, out here,” she said to Langdon, Old Josh leading the way.
“Why’s that,” asked Langdon.
“Well, the funniest thing is, these trees look like skeleton men on Halloween!”
Langdon looking at the trees, commented, “I suppose so,”
then added, “I do this every year with Old Josh, and nothing like this ever happened before to you, so its new I suppose.”
“Well, on Halloween I go out with mom, down in New Orleans, it’s a tradition, and I bring a pillow case and fill it up with candy, but never this late,” explained Cassandra.
He glanced behind him, at her as they walked a little farther, said, “Oh, this is better than Halloween, Old Josh is going to tell us a story we’ll never forget, he always does.”
Old Josh now opens up the barn doors, leaves it open a bit, and turns on the light, hay and straw lay on the floor of the barn, and the stalls are occupied with the few horses the plantation has, and the dog Tobacco, is in the barn guarding it, he is almost as old as Cassandra, he’s six, he’s a mutt, but a nice mutt, he watches the farm, and the animals, and makes sure if any wolf’s or robbers come, he barks to let them know he is there, and usually Mr. Cole Abernathy, Langdon’s father comes running out the back door with his shotgun.
“Sit on down, and we is goin’ to have us a good ole story,” said Josh, and they sat against an old wooden beam, as Josh sat on an old bench, and leaded on his cane, his back against the steps that lead up to the hay loft, and now all were comfortable.




Old Josh of North Carolina

“Now youall dont go to sleep on me, cus I got a good story, I hears it from my grandpa Silas, he hears it from his pa, Old Josh, like me, an’ I cant shout anymore so youall got to listen up close,” said old Josh, so Langdon and Cassandra sat stone-still waiting for the story. Josh looked about and even Tobacco was also waiting on the story, he was although nibbling on some bone, then when Josh looked at him, he dropped it from his mouth, as if to say, ‘Ok, go ahead and tell the story, I’m listening.’
“It was back in 1886,” said Josh, “when my pa’s pa, Old Josh, went to a place way up yonder, it’s called Minnesota, it’s so cold up there, the bears freeze to death when they is sleeping, yes sir, even the birds, the ones that forgot to fly down south, they fly in the cold there, and freeze their wings and fall dead, just like that, that is how cold it is there. So they stay in their homes and get fat. But someone up there he done invented a thing called the toboggan.”
“What is a toboggan Josh,” asked Langdon.
“Now I is goin’ tell yaw but yaw cant stop me every minute for me to explain to yaw what I is goin’ to tell yaw anyhow in a minute!” scolded Josh.
“Sorry Josh, I done got excited too soon,” said Langdon.
“Well, as I wes about to say, its so cold there the dog and da cat, if-in they dont get on home before dark, they deader than a doornail also, jes like that there bear I mentioned a while ago, and so this here man he made up what you all a toboggan, the toboggan is plenty big too, its so big you can put four of you Langdon’s on it, or five of you Cassandra’s on it.”
“Oh,” said Cassandra, “that is sure plenty big, but what does it do?”
As they listened to Josh, they puffed and blew cold smoke rings out of their mouths, waiting for Josh to get to tell what that contraption did.
“Naw, shu,” said Josh, “I is goin’ to tell you what that there machine did, it was made of wood like a cart, but skinny and long, and it had rope on each side of it, so everyone could hold on to it. They brought the toboggan up the hill and my grandpa say, it was different than a sled, or sleigh, it had no runners or skis on the underside, the bottom of the toboggan that is, it jus skidded down the hill on the snow, the front was a little curved, it was made up simple as pie.”

—Old Josh noticed the boy and the girl’s eyes were closing, staring to fall to sleep, even the dog’s eyes were closing, and so he continued, but this time it was magical, or at least for Langdon and Cassandra, and even the dog: they were in the toboggan, all of a sudden, just like that, in Minnesota, they were sliding down this hill in a long, very long toboggan, with Tobacco behind them, on the toboggan.
“Is this really happening?” asked Langdon, to Cassandra.
“I don’t know, I can’t see Old Josh, and maybe we are in a dream,” answered Cassandra, “But both together?” replied Langdon.
They were going down the hill fifty-miles an hour, “Drive carefully,” pleaded Cassandra, she was happily scared.
“I think the toboggan is driving itself;” remarked Langdon, then Langdon yelled, “HERE WE GOOOOO!”
They reached the end of the hill, they had passed several trees, and buildings, they were on the top of the hill by the State Capital originally, in downtown St. Paul, Minnesota, kids and family’s all around them, it was like a winter wonderland.
Said Cassandra, holding onto the rope of the Toboggan, “I think this is what the folks do here to get out of the cold and have fun, and so they don’t stay so fat.”
“Let’s hike up the hill again with this toboggan and ride down again, that was fun,” said Langdon.
And then Langdon noticed the birds singing in the breeze going from tree to tree, in the cold gray sky, and that the dogs were running back and forth, playing with the kids and each other. There were no flowers of course, but there were green pine trees about, and the squirrels were running with acorns in their mouths into holes of the trees.
Said Cassandra, “I think Old Josh was kidding about dogs and birds freezing, and squirrels, because they all look like their having fun like everyone else.”
And they both started laughing, holding each others hand, Cassandra saying, “If I’m dreaming I don’t want to wake up until morning, this is too much fun.”
And Langdon started to whistle, as they climbed back up the hilly street, and Cassandra tried also to whistle, but her lips would not form right, and they got cold, so she stopped.


“Good morning,” said Josh, politely.
Langdon opening up his eyes, “Are you done with your toboggan ride?” he asked.
“It’s a far ways off now I reckon, but was it real?” asked Langdon; then Cassandra woke up, wiped her eyes clear, “Oh, what happened,” she asked, “did we fall to sleep Josh?” Then she looked at Langdon, asked, “Did you have the same dream I had, that we were in that cold place Josh mentioned, and we went on that toboggan ride together?” (and the dog barked just then, and ran up to Langdon, licked his hands, excited, his tail moving as fast as that there toboggan went).
“Well, I is afraid I got to go on to work now, it’s 8:00 AM in the morning, and youall got to ask somebody else that, there ain’t anybody in here can tell you it ain’t or it is.”
“Josh, but you do know if it was or wasn’t a dream,” said Langdon.
Old Josh was now standing up, ready to go out the barn door, “Oh, I been to that place lots of times. When I was a kid, I used to go to it every Christmas, that is, when I was your age. But I ain’t been there for several years now. Getting too old for toboggans, thought you’d like your first trip with me along, I mean, kind of along.” And then old Josh went out the door to tend to his work.


Written 6-28-2008 (Lima, Peru)

The Trial (Chapter 12 of, "The Last Plantation")

The Trial
(1962-63) Chapter: 12


There was a boiling trial, and we all thought, all us from the vicinity and country where the Wallace’s had lived, we thought she, Burgendy Washington was either insane or possessed, and therefore sent to River Mount Hospital, in Prescott, Wisconsin, under the care of Dr. Whitman. Her lawyer was none other than the famous Henry Thompson, who did murder trials among others, he himself once was up for murder, but it was dismissed for the lack of information, he acted as his own lawyer in his own case, they had said he killed his wife and dropped her off in a junkyard, in Fayetteville, North Carolina.
Minnie Mae had left the Wallace Plantation, we all knew she would, it was just too, way too much for her to endure that night, it still haunts her folks say; when she awoke from her fall, the night Burgendy killed her son, she ran to he Stanley plantation, that was how the police was notified, and in the morning found the dead child, and her passed out on the floor, and she testified that she saw, what she saw, which was up to the prior moment of the slaying of the child, but did not see that actual happening, the murder itself, she had run out of the house. But Burgendy was not denying the killing anyhow, so she was guilty by her own mouth.
Us folks at the trial, none of us ever had to consider such a mishap, I mean, she was guilty, but there was insanity involved. We kind of thought, any kind of murder is a form of insanity, but I guess not. So there were technicalities involved.

The Hospital was quite expensive, and Thompson suggested she stay there, and in three to four years, she’d be out, actually after her money run out, she’d be out, but she needed to sell the plantation to pay the hospital bills, and lawyer bills, the hospital was costly, and Abby was at each day of the trial, and made a deal with the lawyer, to have Burgendy sign the deed of the plantation over to her for $150,000-dollars, and thus, she’d have $190,000 with the money in the back, enough for at least two to three years expenses, hopefully for the hospital and lawyer would not be more. A private hospital, and not a burden on the state, and in time, folks might forget her, and so, it was the way Thompson wanted her to go and she did just that.
Burgendy signed it without a peep, and grabbed the Bible, and did as Thompson told her, started reading it from page one to the end page of the whole New and Old Testaments, and would go to church on Sundays, to become UN- possessed, and if she couldn’t, at least pretend to be.

It was now 1963. Abby did leave $2000 extra dollars in her account personal account, to buy things she might need in the hospital, and signed the other money over to the lawyer to pay her bills.
And now the plantation returned back to its old and rightful owners, and Whisky Charlie moved in, moved out of Ozark, Alabama, and moved in with his family member, his cousin Abby, first cousin, once and for all.

The Sacrifice (Chapter 11, to "The Last Plantation")

The Sacrifice
Chapter: 11


It has been said, and there is much truth to it I believe, what Christ has done on earth, Satan has tried to duplicated. Burgendy was around her plantation house doing her voodoo stuff with more of a dedication than she ever had, she put more vitality into it, perhaps because who could interfere now. The Child Otis Pity Wallace Washington was about 18-months old now.
The house was quiet, not many visitor came about anymore, since Frank and Wally were gone, dead, and Abby in Ozark, Alabama, Old Josh, and Amos came around now and then, but besides them, not many other folks. Minnie Mae was still working on the farm, and Burgendy had money in the back, around $40,000-dollars, Frank and Wally leaving each half of that sum to her personally, in their personal accounts at the Ritt Bank.
She prayed to Satan, and was said to dance with the demons, this was not new, just become more noticeable, and actually a little old, it was on Halloween she got what she called a vision, an awakening, a massager came to her in her bedroom, sat on her bed, told her the following (which she would repeat in court in times yet to come), “The Ten-Winged Master, wants you to make a sacrifice to him, your child, like Abram, so long ago did for God, this will prove your loyalty, and there will be a resurrection, if you follow this example.” The messenger was a henchman from hell, so he claimed.
About this time, the Abernathy family, and the Stanley family, the two families who owned the other two plantations, along the same side of the road the Wallace Plantation was, now Burgundy’s plantation, was ostracized from their gathers, their weekend get together, where once they’d played checkers with Wally and Frank, and even the Stanley’s came over. They could hear the yelping and screaming and voodoo drums at all hours of the night now. It was becoming nonsense. This sacrifice was all planned for October 31, 1962, midnight, she put the child on the living room table, Minnie Mae was in the kitchen, closed her eyes, wanted to stop her but there was no way, she was scared, and so she ran out of the house—perhaps thinking: out of sight, out of mind, cried, slipped, hit her head on a rock, fell to sleep, more like knocked out rather. And so the sacrifice proceeded as scheduled, nobody notified. No kids came for candy, none were allowed to by their parents to go near the plantation, and rightfully so, and there really were no kids about in the country side there anyhow. With no haggling, she lifted up a heavy double edged ax, and when she lowered it, the child was split into two pieces, and she danced, and danced, and tore her cloths to shreds. And of course there was no resurrection, what she had to learn the hard way, and she never did learn it, Satan is liar, as well as a deceiver. But if she got anything out of this, it was his blessings

The Pack (Chapter Ten: "The Last Plantation")

The Pact (or Deal)
No: 10

Abby Wallace would take two days to make the trip from Ozark, Alabama, drive down to New Orleans, and onto Fayetteville, to see her brother’s grave. She slept the night in New Orleans, at Betty Hightower’s home, a friend, and Thursday morning headed onto the plantation house, the Wallace Plantation.
There was only a hundred-acres left of land out of four-hundred they originally had, the four-hundred that Old Man Wallace had purchased way back in 1780, or thereabouts, they had sold, the two brothers had sold, her two brothers, the ones that were dead now, Wally and Frank, sold the three-hundred acres, giving her ten-present, keeping the rest of the money for themselves, as they always did, she was never quite equal with them, but it was better to take ten-present of something, better that is, than nothing, better than zero of nothing, they’d sign her name one way or the other, and a war would start, and by the time the fighting stopped, her ten-percent and their money would be gone anyhow.
This journey was really more for seeing Burgundy, than anything else, to see where everything stood between her and Burgundy, she told folks back in Ozark, it was to see her brother’s graves, and in passing mentioned Burgundy and the plantation, but said no more about it, save, she had to tell them something, and she didn’t want to look as a ogre towards the dead brothers, the ones who cared less about her, and more about their 1950-Chevy.

When Burgundy and Abby met, neither one turning and walking away, both dissolving the other for a moment, as if in a spell, as if ready each had to find a common moment to exhale the instant and find the right face to put on, thus, standing in a little square spot, each in a their own little cube as if it was marked, three feet from one another, both finding their comfort zone with each other, they looked into each others eyes, like a fox to a hound.
“Come in,” said Burgundy, Abby at the door, she was but half dressed, as if she was in the finishing process of dressing, and they somehow both ended up cross-legged sitting down in the sofa chairs in the living room.
“I was just in the middle of doing some of my voodoo dancing,” she told Abby with a smile; Abby in return, giving a flat “Oh,” to the statement. She had noticed, Abby had noticed, Burgundy had a lower body frame that seemed short, a long torso, and pale thin arms, like a snake, an odd kind of body she deliberated. Then her eyes and neck seemed to bob about the house, just a minute or so her eyes took a tour, around the house, finding wooden mask, voodoo masks, and disarray, a messy house.
“I cleaned your room for you, since this will be our home, unless we can come up with a pack or deal, and I’d like to talk to you about that shortly,” remarked Burgundy, going on, “after Wally died, Frank took it pretty hard, It was physically and mentally costly for him, his heart, his whole being collapsed I do believe, and remained for a long time in a convalescent state. Minnie Mae and I have been keeping the plantation afloat, well, Minnie Mae, more than I, I suppose. But now you are here and we can all work together.” (This was really not what Burgundy wanted to do, but it was what she had to say, and wait to see what response would come back.)
“To be quite frank,” said Abby, “I am more interested in selling the place, than living in it, or listening to your proposition, that is why I came.”
“Yes,” remarked Burgendy, “I fully understand that, and knew from the very beginning you and I’d git along well, I jes knew that, and look, here we are, seeing eye to eye.”
Amos came in, “Should I feed dhe hogs mis Burgendy?” he asked, and she nodded her head yes.
“Frank has some prize, country fair type hogs out yonder, as big as horses, one over 700-pounds, that one, the big one got a prize for eating more food in a meal, faster in one meal that is, than any other hog at the fair, and got a ribbon, blue ribbon for it, with its name on it, “Big Hog Wally,” Frank named it that, kids were riding her, so you-ll got to be careful, when she gits hungry back there in the pig pen, she can eat a whole lamb in a matter of minutes, and who knows what else.”
“Thanks for the warning, when I go by there I’ll keep my distance, or make sure they’re feed, especially Big Hog Wally!” They both laughed.

“Ok, Miss Abby Wallace, here is the deal (she pulls out a check from her purse, for the sum of $500,000-dollars written to Abby Wallace, hands it over to Abby) take this check, cash it, I sold all but four acres of the one-hundred acres left to Mr. Ritt, the Ritt Fayetteville Bank, once you cash it, the deal is sealed, and the plantation house is mine, and everything on this four-acres will belong to me, and the money to you, it is more fair than your brothers would have been to you.”
It was a fair deal, and she was right, her brothers would not have given her much if even ten-percent on the last one hundred acres left, although the land was sold a little under its value, and should they have waited to sell, it would have increased in value, an investment that seemed not to please either party, Abby or Burgundy, for neither were of the plantation breed, neither one wanted to grow corn or cotton, and Abby knew this, plus, she had never had such a sum before, and this kind of a deal was more than she had expected from this cleaver fox, and therefore accepted the check with a big smile, saying, “Yes, perhaps we see eye to eye, my brother’s and I never did.”
It was but a few days later, when Abby left to go back to Ozark, Alabama, she was happy, and Burgendy was happy, as the saying goes: there were two winners.

Frank's Dying Request (Chapter Six, Part of: "The Last Plantation")

Chapter Six

Frank’s Dying Request
(Part of: “The Last Plantation” Chapters)



Leaky SoulWithin a leaky Soul—destiny reeks like an eroded hosepumping out its poison…!But its way too late—lifehas pitted its outcome, for doom…there is no more room, for life!#2339 (2-27-2008)


(1962) Frank received a letter from a distinct cousin, called Whisky Charlie (born 1935, relative to Frank and Wally, lives in Ozark, Alabama), where Abbey Wallace is living most of the time when she goes to Ozark, Alabama. Matter-of-fact, she spends more time at this location than at the plantation in North Carolina. Charlie is from Gertrude Wallace’s side, her maiden name being Codden, a Jewish name, and Charlie’s mother was the sister to Gertrude, now dead, but Charlie and Cindy (Cindy born 1932), the two, brother and sister live together, and Abby gets along with them just fine, kind of likes Charlie. They have a place outside of Ozark, a little house, by an open cemetery, and a shanty town in back of the Cemetery, where the black folks live, and a few plantations thereabouts. They are not rich, and Abbey pays for the food often, and at times a few other items. She has often said, “Here I get love and comfort, attention, and I am most happy, and I feel needed.”

“Who’re you praying to?” asked Frank, standing at the open door to Burgundy’s bedroom, with his pajamas on.
Frank has now been ill since Wally passed on, weakened bones, aging faster than normal, mental state of depression most days, and hard to get out of bed, and drinking like a fish; funny he thought, when it comes, it comes like gangbusters, all at once. He locked himself in his room; Minnie Mae even had a hard time feeding him, bringing eggs and bread to him. The 1950-Chevy is now only a ugly reminder of what took place, of what tore his life apart, ripped his soul, made a leak in it. It is the great green monster to him now. But he will not, can not die before he finds out the truth, he has to know how his brother died, in detail, he has to make Burgundy talk, what would make her talk, is what is going through his mind now, day and night, and today is the day.
“Who you praying to,” he asked the second time. She was on her knees praying to some invisible person, and then she turned her head around, almost as if it was disconnected from her neck, “The unrequited Ghost of this here mansion!” she said with a low purring growl, “remember old man, I’m the she-nigger devil, isn’t that what you called me?”
Then like a lizard, she stuck her tongue out, to mock the old man, stuck it out and it seemed to reach from the top of her nose, and when it dropped, it dropped past her chin, then she sucked it into the empty space in her mouth, surprisingly it fit.


The Deal

Dr. Wright, the psychologist, had visited Frank this day, and behind closed doors told Minnie and Burgundy, his mind was melting away, and Dr. Ritt, the medical doctor, said physically he was alright, but extremely weak, and perhaps some of his body organs might stop their normal functions at any time, his immune system was breaking down quickly. In essence, he was slowly dying.
Frank asked for Burgundy, to come into his room, into the bedroom, alone, and she did, “I want to know the truth of what took place that night my brother died, the whole truth, what do you want for it?” He said in an on edged voice.
“Everything, I mean everything you own!”
“Ok,” he said, just like that, knowing his time was short on earth at best, “how shall we do it?”
She pulled out a paper from her purse, and told Frank he’d have to sign it in front of two witnesses, and at the moment, both doctors were outside of his bedroom, two good and upright citizens, and after he signed it, behind closed doors she would tell him.”
Well, the paper was signed, and the witnesses left the room thereafter, and Burgundy pulled up a chair next to his bed, “Listen up old man,” she said “I will not repeat myself—first of all, I opened up the window of the 1950-Chevy, I knew it was going to rain, it was forecasted two days ahead of time. And I poured your brother several shots of whisky, as he liked it, but it was of course to the brim. And then I sat by the window, feeling the baby inside, he saw that, he actually loved me being pregnant, and if it was a boy, made me promise to name it Otis, well I did, but I gave him the name of Pity also, for his father died in a state of pity, in a state of misfortune, his misfortune, and it suited the boy. I told him then, the window was opened he saw that it was, and he was barefoot, and he ran baldheaded out to the car, I had taken his shoes off so the warm fire from the health would sink into his foot bones, he liked that, but in the mud and slush and frost, he slipped, and slipped again, and knocked himself out. Some of this he did on his own, most of it was props for the show, and when he was on his back, he yelled like a scared little boy, for help. He looked in the window, I had closed my eyes, he thought I fell to sleep, and I did kind of, but I saw him nonetheless, right through my transparent eyelids. And he thought he might last until morning that was the false impression the whisky gave his body, his brain, but he died nonetheless. And now it is your turn.”
And correct she was, he died within the hour.

The Inheritance (Chapter Five to, "The Last Plantation")

Chapter Five

The Inheritance
(Part of: “The Last Plantation” Chapters)



(1962) Amos, and Josh are sitting with Minnie Mae, out by her shanty, in back of the barn on the Wallace Plantation, Amos playing the banjo, and Josh drinking a large glass of something, it looks like beer, but he usually drinks beer with moonshine in it, so I’d bet that is what is in that large wooden cup of his. Burgundy, she is dancing wildly around the bonfire trying to catch the sparks as they drift off the burning wood and into the air, as if she’s possessed with a voodoo demon; her family does have an ounce or two of Haitian blood in them, and therefore, she has something on that order likewise in her blood, and so it has been said, but not on these three plantations, the Wallace’s, Stanley’s and Abernathy’s.

(Morning the next Day) Frank Wallace is sitting in a chair on the patio reading a letter he got in the morning mail from a lawyer. Burgundy Washington is in town taking care of some personal business, along with documenting her child’s official name. Henry Thompson is her lawyer’s name, Burgundy’s lawyer’s name (the child’s official name is: Otis Pity Wallace Washington).

The letter to Frank Wallace, reads: “To Whom It May Concern: one third of the Wallace Plantation, the portion that belongs to Wally Wallace, and all the bank accounts thereof, under the name of Wally Wallace has been given to his unborn son, to be distributed as needed through the Ritt Bank, and by way of Burgundy Washington, the mother of the unborn Wallace child. This is my will, Wally Wallace (singed Wally Wallace, and witnessed by Henry Thompson, and Albert Lee Ritt Sir., 1961).”
Frank’s lip quivered as he read the letter, his head bobbed back and forth: ‘What in the world has my brother done,’ he muttered aloud. Matter of fact, Frank was so upset he couldn’t talk near inclined to have a stroke, or choke to death over this letter. ‘What was he thinking with this witch, or she-devil?’ (The property was in the family since the 1820s, the land bought by Anthony Wallace II, and the plantation mansion completed finished in the 1870s by his father, Anthony Wallace IIl).
Frank’s eyes popped out, almost all the way out of its sockets, rereading, and rereading the letter, over and over, hoping I suppose he was reading it wrong, but he wasn’t, he was reading word for word, perfectly.
Frank than got up, walked into the living room, and into the dinning room, paced a bit, then went to the long wooden cabinet, a mirror above it, an old mantel clock on it, a thin drawer near the clock, he opened the drawer, a pistol was there, he looked at it, where it lay, left the drawer open, and paced again, then shut the drawer hard.
“Hell with it, give it to her,” he muttered, “let her have it!”

That night Frank went to talk to Cole Abernathy, two plantations down the road, looking for someone to take his side, brought his checker set with him, some moonshine he bought from Amos, Mrs. Stanley’s plantation hand, Langdon, his boy was upstairs getting ready for bed, and Caroline Abernathy was tidying up a bit.
“I got to give away one third of my land to this nigger she-wolf,” he told Cole, in a bitter anger voice.
“That’s because your brother was—for once in his life, responsible for someone who he left behind, he should have kept his item where it belonged, zipped tightly in his pants.”
Frank took it as an insult, even though it reek with truth, he figured this was his last communication with Cole, there was no sympathy in him, and he abruptly stood up, grabbed his checker board and stormed out of the Abernathy mansion.

The Funeral

Frank, and Amos James Boston Tucker, along with Minnie Mae, and Josh (from the Abernathy Plantation Josh Jefferson Jr., born 1890), attended the funeral, a plot of land set aside for the family cemetery behind the barn, and Minnie’s shanty. Burgundy was also present, and Mr. and Mrs. Stanley; the Abernathy’s were not invited and Abbey was not there either, the sister to Wally, (she was born in 1905, the youngest of the three children), she was visiting relative is Ozark, Alabama. There was no preacher present, and Frank and Amos lowered Wally into a grave next to his mother and father (Gertrude Wallace, wife to Anthony, born 1860) (and Anthony Wallace III (Husband to Gertrude, born 1855, He built the Wallace Mansion, or completed).

Frank's Interrogation (Chapater Four to: "The Last Plantation")

Chapter Four

Frank’s Interrogation
(Part of: “The Last Plantation” Chapters)


Frank didn’t care how Wally died, he just cared about who helped it along, he knew he and his brother were old, old enough to die any day, anytime of the day, night or day. This was what he told Minnie May, and Minnie May told Burgundy.
Frank never did talk to Burgundy about her baby those first few months, two months after Wally died, it was too hard for him to look at her, too hard for him to talk without crying, but he did find the courage to interrogate her. Other than that, He just saw her, sitting in that chair by the window, the one she fell to sleep in when Wally got himself killed. He called her the ‘Queen Bee,’ now, because she had a white baby in her stomach, and it was going to come out near white, whiter than black anyhow, thus, the descendents of the new child would be, who knows what. She even took up smoking a pipe, like old Wally used to do; at first that aggravated Frank, and then he got thinking, maybe she really did like him. At best, he was confused, at worse, he was obsessed with putting the puzzle together, if even he had to hammer the pieces into the puzzle to make them fit.
Frank had asked her time and again, what took place that evening Wally went out to the car, the Queen Bee said very little, actually she somehow got herself to believe, she couldn’t remember, some kind of psychosomatic symptoms, or at least that is what Doctor Wright (Psychologist) told Frank on his visit one afternoon to Fayetteville, it could be.
“I fell to sleep,” she said,” that’s all I remember.”
Frank said to Dr. Wright and Minnie Mae, “Either she’s the best actor in town, or she’s sincere, but I think it’s the actor part more than that sincerity part.”
He asked her several times more, to go over what took place that evening, and when she told her story each time a little different than it was the time before, he’d say, “Wrong!” You might say, he was quizzing her more than interrogating her, trying to make her divulge what she really knew, if indeed she did know more than what she was saying, it was all too obscure of circumstances, you might say.
“All right!” she said on the last day of the second month of the anniversary of Wally’s death, “ok, I remember somethin’ not much but somethin’…” she said and Frank listened up, sat erect as if he was going to get he truth and nothing but the truth, the official confession, finality; “…have it your way, I was sleeping, woke up, saw him going to the car, fell to sleep again, didnt really understand what I was seeing, or hearing, I thought I was dreaming—there is no more Frank, unless you want to make it up as you go along.”
Frank didn’t know what to make of it, she had been around some, he came to that conclusion anyhow.


Written 6-18-2008