![]() I ought to be grateful for the time I had with her, but later on, she died of scarlet fever and her husband sent me back to Pa. She had her reasons, being the only other girl and being a young woman. She didn’t want to leave me alone with Pa. She was fifteen and he was only seventeen, but he agreed. She married a local boy, a fisherman named Hugh, but refused to do it unless she could take me with her. My only sister, Edna, took care of me after that. I expect someone reading this will wish she’d done it sooner. Maybe she’d been thinking about it when I was growing in her belly. Maybe she figured that was the only way to keep from having the ninth child she had in her at the time. Having me nearly killed my mother, and three years later she finished the job herself by hanging from a noose on a nearby tree. My father was nearly fifty when he married her. My mother was only thirty-three and you can imagine what a hard life it was having that many children by that age. I was the eighth child born to Marjory and Ewan Boyd and only the second girl. I came into this world in the dead of winter, in a little wooden house overlooking the Atlantic. I expect after I’m gone she’ll wish she’d never brought it up. She asked me a little while ago to tell her about my life. I guess it’ll be Kelly who finds me and she’ll be the one to read this first. As far as I know, she’s never gone snooping where she’s not supposed to be. She doesn’t leave a mess in the bathroom and has never tried to run me out of my own space. She doesn’t grumble about my cooking or tells me she can’t eat this or that. When she moved out my way to go to school and asked if she could stay with me, I said I’d like the company. When she came to visit as a little girl, she’d always bring me those chocolate-dipped shortbreads I like and she never threw a tantrum. Kelly is the only one who bothered with me more than a handful of times a year, and if you want the truth she’s the only one of the grandchildren I like. I’ve got six children, twenty-nine grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren to fight over what I leave behind. I tell you, I’m the same now as I was at twenty and no one called me spry back then. At my age, the word spry is thrown around a lot, especially when folks see me shoveling my own driveway. None of my offspring dared to try and put me in a home. I’ve got my wits about me and I sleep in my own bed at night. I still have my own teeth and near-perfect eyesight, though my hearing isn’t the best. I may not have made it to a hundred like I swore I would, but eighty-nine is nothing to scoff at. I suppose I’ve nothing to complain about. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.Listen to episode on The No Sleep Podcast.Īvailable to Season Pass Members, or buy Full Episode for $1.49 USD ![]() – All Rights Reserved – No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. “The Fake Cemetery on Richmond Road” illustration courtesy of Jörn HeidrathĪudio program ©2016 – Creative Reason Media Inc. ScandrethĬlick here to learn more about Manen LysetĬlick here to learn more about Elias WitherowĮxecutive Producer & Host: David CummingsĪudio adaptations produced by: David Cummings & Jeff Clement* & Phil Michalski** (Story starts at 01:43:40)Ĭlick here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep PodcastĬlick here to learn more about Alex BeymanĬlick here to learn more about C.M. “ Feed the Pig“** written by Elias Witherow and performed by Jesse Cornett & Peter Lewis & Erika Sanderson. “ The Fake Cemetery on Richmond Road“ written by Manen Lyset & Brandon Boone and performed by Dan Zappulla & Corinne Sanders. ![]() Scandreth and performed by David Ault & Matthew Bradford & Erika Sanderson. “The Slog” written by Alex Beyman and performed by David Cummings.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |