L To R, Josh Perkins, Elmer Willis, Solomon Doyle, Mae Ashworth Willis, Nora Ashworth Griffin, Shelby Ashworth

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Thou Be Jesus Or Tou Be The Devil?

This story starts as usual with Uncle Sub leaving the house late one evening, he was headed out into the woods to get him a mutton. From previous stories you know by now, he wasn't going to buy one either. HHAA
He had really picked a bad night to go and find a mutton. First of all there wasn't a moon out any where, not even a star. By the time he located the herd of sheep and picked him out a good and fat one. It had already gotten pitch dark on him. So dark, you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. He was already on a pig trail headed for home
{Editors note: A Pig trail was just a beaten down path through the woods, leading form one house or place to another house or place} , but that was going to be a chore, since he couldn't see one foot in front of his self. He was walking slow with his arms stretched out In front of him to try and feel his way to keep from walking into a tree or falling into a creek or stump hole or worse yet, getting tangled in a brair patch. When all of a sudden, his hands touched someone Else's hands. It was another person or {SOMETHING}, doing the same thing as him, trying to find his way. Uncle Sub stopped all of a sudden, he was already scared to death. He said, "Who is you? Thou be Jesus or Thou be the devil". {He used the word "Thou" most of the time} The other person replied, I'll tell you this, "I ain't Jesus".
Uncle Sub screamed like a wild panther and left there running leaving behind the mutton, the sack and everything else. He ran all they way home and never ran into anything and never got a scratch on him. It must have scared him a good bit, because folks say it was a good two maybe three days before he went out mutton shopping again. HHaa

1 comment:

LV Hayes said...

Excellent story, Terry! Reminds me of my folks down near Starks on the lower Bearhead in the 1940s and '50s (before TV). Every weekend, we'd all get together at granpa's and granma's house, and the older folks would get around to telling stories sooner or later. Ghost stories were a favorite, but all kinds were told. Wish I could remember them, but I've waited too long. I'm glad you're not, but instead writing them now while you still can. Best of luck with your blog!

LV Hayes, Nov. 3, 2007