Category Archive:Moose Nuggets

“Life can be hard,” Mama whispered to Sarah. “And when it is hard, we must be strong enough to withstand; strong enough to overcome; strong enough to come through on the other side of the hard times.”

Sarah’s eyes thickened with tears as she hiccoughed and nodded. Mama had come to her bed when she heard her cries. She had held her, but she had brooked no nonsense as she told Sarah brutal truths.

“As surely as the maple does weep its sap each year, Sarah, you will find many causes to cry as you get older. Do not let it be for the little things, like a broken dolly or going to bed without your supper. The good Lord knows that you will suffer things more hurtsome than these. Save your tears for a time of truer need, as the maple saves its sap for the proper season.”

Sarah nodded again, understanding only some of what Mama was saying. Her 9 year old heart found Mama’s voice soothing as she drifted off to sleep. She felt the feathery touch of Mama’s good-night kiss and heard the floor creak beneath her weight as Mama left the room. The evening’s taunting by her brother gave way to peaceful dreams preparing Sarah for a new day.
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The 9th weekly challenge by the editors of Trifecta is WEEP, using the third definition and writing between 33 and 333 words.

weep transitive verb

1: to express deep sorrow for usually by shedding tears

2: to pour forth (tears) from the eyes

3: to exude (a fluid) slowly : ooze (a tree weeping sap)
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I’m currently reading The Heretic’s Daughter so the voice of this piece lends itself a bit to the voice of that book.

It’s week 8 of Trifecta Challenge. This week’s word is CUTTING – the third definition is: inclined or likely to wound the feelings of others especially because of a ruthless incisiveness (a cutting remark)

I confess to having had a bit of trouble with this word. I was told once that I had a cutting tongue and it affected me greatly. I’ve been really working on changing that aspect of my personality. But, in the end, the following is my entry.
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The fight had gone on for two hours. They had circled the table, circled each other, escalating until neither could breathe. Now the couple stood across from each other, chests heaving. The dining table was not the only thing separating them.

Stanley’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears as he looked down to his clutched fists. “Darlene, I don’t know if I can do this much longer. I have tried so hard to be the husband you need, but it is never enough for you. I can’t take that tongue of yours any more!”

“What the hell do you mean, Stanley? My tongue? You have GOT to be kidding me. First you tell me you are leaving and now you tell me it’s because of my tongue? For heaven’s sake you whiny little pissant, grow a set and get the hell out then.”

“That’s just what I mean, Darlene – your words are cutting through this marriage like a knife. They cut through ME like a knife. The only person in this world you really care about is you. So, I’m leaving you to yourself. I’ll talk to the attorney tomorrow.”

As the door closed behind him, Darlene gasped, then shook her head in too-late admiration. “It would appear you have a pair after all, Stanley.”

Polly’s taxi was making a run from the Ohio River to Columbus up north. She was in no big hurry; there was no need to call undue attention to the yellow Plymouth. An untimely stop for speeding or spitting or just plain meanness of the two-bit sheriffs along her route could cause some major trouble. Old BillyJoBob would want to take a look-see into the big trunk. She’d have to do some fast talking if that happened.

No need to skirt the issue: Polly had hungry mouths at home to feed and little to no money to do it. She was a fine driver and knew sources of some mighty fine likker. Prohibition and the Great Depression both served to cause people to take chances.

Luckily, Polly was a looker. Blond curls framed a round face and her pouty lips bore the latest shade of Jean Harlow red. She could bat her eyes and make promises she didn’t intend to keep to get on her way.

The one time she kept one of those promises she ended up with a nine month surprise that kept her off the prohibition trail for a time.

She could thank BillyJoBob for that little bundle.

Today was going to be her lucky day. Polly could feel it. The road was dry and the air was warm. Tilting her cap to a sexy angle, she lit up a Camel, and tuned the radio to a dance music station.

She rolled down her window and sang lustily as she passed through the little towns. About halfway Polly pulled up to a store and got a fountain coke. The soda jerk tipped his paper hat to her and gave her a leer as he topped the soda with a cherry. “Here you go, Toots. A sweet for a sweet.”

Polly’s laughter trilled. Winking saucily she climbed behind the wheel of the taxi. Columbus was a’waiting and she was ready to be on her way. “See ya next time, boys.”
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I took a little poetic license with the timing of this. My mother-in-law (Polly) was quite a woman. She did run shine when she was young. However she would have only been in her late teens in the early 30’s. At THAT time she was cooking for her father on a tugboat plying the Ohio River. She had a number of “odd” jobs when she was younger. And she had a number of children, too, but none were the progeny of an Ohio sheriff. At least, not as far as I know.

Thanks to Trifecta’s judges for naming last week’s entry as a runner-up. Thanks, too, for the challenges you throw us.