Fluffy Mules

Extract

What follows is an excerpt from the book Wandering Hearts

Donna J. Grisanti

Published by Phoenix Publishing Corp., August 2006; $ 14.95US; 978-0970886095

Copyright Āc 2006 Phoenix Publishing Corp.

1

Raine Foster knew with certainty that it would have to leave home that warm and humid spring when Nanny Vi started talking to the dolls. Through tears, Raine planned to do in seeing the bright pink glow of the sky washboard fading light. The Fosters' farm fell around Raine and his grandmother's head more and more unconscious.

Raine looked at his rough, chapped hands, asking that the soft, pink tufts of cotton candy in the sky would not be turned gray and menacing. All too frequently lead heavens sunk our constant streams Ping Raine kept running inside the house bucket for bucket rusted farm, horse troughs and then she quit dragged from the barn into decay. If his prayers stopped buckling floors and leaks would not be spring on the roof of Swiss cheese over their heads, as they did not respond, she feared the second floor of the house would fall down and kill them in their beds.

People said Raine should give way and start on his own life, even during crisis. Back tax vultures circling the earth at this place back, they said. rolltop desk was littered with the assessor tax notice, and nobody in this generation can afford to pay anything to save the properties of the family long ago. The landscape has been riddled with broken dreams and lost fortunes, large and small, like theirs, in the estimation of most people, the only way out was to leave Raine or marry. She had no money to leave, at least not enough to buy a seat on the train from Nice who was arrested Clinforks. Thus, "die of hunger here and get married" was the solemn advice of elders in some cracking rockers and stools barrel on the porch collapsed Vitman general store, post office and the office of cotton-gin.

Almost half in 1941 in Bridgeville, the elders of the city had nothing better to do than come every weekday and Saturday morning in their own clothes, but the raggedy rock on the porch store in cracking comfort. They sat on their days off, keeping the clerk, postmaster, and secure business man, he watched people try to stretch their pay for supplies. Work hard to see people trying to scrape a few pennies to keep the whole meal on the table of their fatigue. Things were bad in Bridgeville for as long as anyone could remember. The Venue, home Raine, seemed the next on the long list of chess that shows no sign of the end, the former front lines say they chewed on the ends of their pipes empty.

The old porch was cantankerous mood, do not be able to taste, or at least the smell, the smell came from burning tobacco. It made the old gentlemen a little irritable to be denied the luxury of pipe or chewing tobacco, because there was no more money, either in their pockets or the pockets of their families. Their audience for the discoloration desired snap deep pockets round boxes operation of gold leaf or tar shaved. Sometimes they turn their worn bodies of the porch rockers and circle the front of the body, praying that the air currents bring a few puffs of fragrant sanctuary where Vitman glass tobacco products kept in boxes lined covers bright, so close and yet so far from their lips, mouth, and pipes.

"We may be in luck, guys," Earll said Miller as he moved at the end of his pipe of a vacuum damp corner of his mouth to another. "Listening to Wright Vestel Mr. Emil Vitman goes Fosters' place tomorrow. " He withstood a second sure all was listening to his jul.