Your three words, my little story
Mark’s words: patients, powerful & safe

Note: please google the word patients, before you tell me I used it wrong. Thanks

Mark’s PATIENTS was wearing thin, but he wasn’t giving up. He told her over and over again, “I’ll drive, I promise you’ll be SAFE and he’ll love you. How can he not, you’re his mom.” She wouldn’t listen though, because she was so afraid, and she felt he would hate her not love her.

Two days ago she found out he lived in a small town called Sloan. A good days ride, but most of it would be a harmless ride in the country. The closest bus stop was at Wilson, so car it was.

She rides only in big POWERFUL buses or trains. Her main transportation around town is her bicycle, she feels safest on two or six wheels, anything but four.

Mark said’ “I won’t leave your side for a moment.”

With tears in her eyes she replied, “But I’m afraid! And also what if he doesn’t want to see me.”

“I know, but this is something you should, no you have to do. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Ok, maybe Saturday morning. Can you set it up for me?”

“Sure.”

~~~~~

Seven years ago her husband was driving, after she went into labor and he died instantly on impact. Three weeks later she awoke from a coma to find out she safely had her baby boy.

She then put her son up for adoption and hasn’t rode in a car since. She lives in fear and shame everyday.

Your three words, my little story
Patty’s words: disgusted, life & home

It’s been a whole LIFE ago, since Patty has returned HOME. Her memories were of a huge house, with an abundant amount of fona in the front yard and plenty of room to play in the back. Now it’s all different; seems smaller, terribly rundown and surrounded by a darkened nature. She hesitated at the door fearful of walking back in the house.

Near Colonial Beach, VA

Patty’s mom left a year after she was born and was never heard of again. Day dreams and nightmares convinced her that she was kidnapped. It was easier to believe that, than knowing her mom didn’t want her.

Western North Carolina

When she missed her dad, she would go to the rock. Her quiet place was a huge rock that sat between the Lost Creek and the woods off of Route 77. She never knew what kind of animal she would see and that was great. She also never thought of fishing, but she did nap.

Port Tobacco, MD

Her vague memories of her dad were nice, but limited by his death due to her young age. It was a tragic accident at the local power plant, he fell two hundred fifty feet and died instantly. She was seven years old, when her grandmother moved in and told her what happened.

Morgantown Power Plant at Morgantown, MD.

DISGUSTED with life and all her surroundings, she left Sloan as soon as she was old enough. Just like her mom she never returned, well until now.

The inheritance reading will be eleven o’clock on Friday in Wilson. She will probably end up with all of momma Bell’s belongings and money, especially since she is her only living relative. The house was hers anyway, so now she can sell it and leave as quick as she came.

Your three words, my little story
Bob’s words: duty, honor & country

Note: this is a true story based on my family and I am Mack. The fictitious town, Sloan, was given birth deep inside the creative crevice of my mind and continues to grow.

George lives in Sloan and never visited another COUNTRY, or for that matter, never moved out of state. His dream was to go to Italy and push on the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Everyone wants to straighten the tower; he wanted to push it over.

He loved the fact that his dad gave twenty years of his life to the Army and he felt it was his DUTY to do the same. When he signed up for the draft, they classified him as 4-H, that means he was not eligible for any military service. He had high arches and studies showed that flat feet or extremely high arches were a great risk of injury.

George’s brother, Mack, had two preteen sons, Jamie and Billy. Their mother left years ago and he was raising them, but not by himself. Mack, George and their mom Margaret raised the boys together.

George drank, but not as much as Mack. So when Mack was at the bar, George was with the kids, either, at their family farm or at Mack’s place. George had bedrooms at both places, which made it convenient for him to either drink at Mack’s place or help his mom with her needs.

Helping raise his nephews gave George a sense of HONOR that he wanted badly. He felt being a 4-H robbed him of the life he wanted to live.

From left to right, Jamie, me and Billy. Taken in ’93 or close to it.

Note: these words are from my sister and I want the world to know, I love her very much.

Your three words, my little story
Debbie’s words: mountains, blue birds & roses

Debbie was coasting down the foot hills of the Blue Ridge MOUNTAINS, while heading home to see her mom. All of a sudden her right front tire blew out and she saw herself and her car heading towards the woods. Thankfully, she was able to hold on for dear life and guide it to a clearing off the road to her right.

She was probably still several hundred feet up the mountain, she came to a stop at a scenic overlook. It was called Dogwood Valley, because the valley had hundreds of dogwood trees and they were aligned with several different species of fragrant honeysuckles. Added to the mix were an abundance of climbing ROSES that wrapped around an assortment of flowering trees.

The beautiful foliage attracted much wildlife, including eastern BLUE BIRDS recognized by their rust colored breast. They were seen flying in and out of the bountiful fruit trees. This was an absolutely gorgeous spot to have a flat.

Margaret, lived off of route 77, just past Bug’s Pond north east of Sloan. Margaret had been talking about a man she met months ago at the park and Debbie couldn’t wait to meet him. So she took some pictures, changed the tire and got back on the road.