BROKEN DEER by Susan Wingate—Installment #2

So, for those of you who read yesterday’s initial installment of BROKEN DEER, I’ve smoothed over some spots that seemed lumpy and needed more expression. And, I’ve included yesterday’s writing in today’s posting of the #2 installment. In fact, I think I will be posting with any of my newest installments, the previous chapter’s writing. So, if I’m posting chapter 4 today, I will include chapter 3 with it.This particular posting contains less than 1,000 words so it won’t take you more than 10 minutes to read.Thanks for reading and remember, any feedback you wish to give will be gladly read and noted. –Susan Wingate.1"Oh. Yes. I dabble wit dem deer." Miss Clancy Theodocius White, named after her father, spoke with wide cloudy eyes. Her velvety brown skin looked weathered, hiding silver tones of a pencil drawing, like a crinkled old saddle from years of use. "Love dem deer. Love 'em. Bring me joy, dey do. Peaceful, pretty as pretty can be." She laughed making her head tip up and her body lean back into the wooden rocker. "Dhere was one, in partic-a-lar made me fall in love wit 'er. Poor dear! Ha! Poor dear." She shook her head, then got sullen and her smile left as Miss Clancy spent the next few seconds contemplating that poor deer. "Hit by car, damn things, cars, and on this tiny island. Seems silly, it does. And, deez poor critters, killed one-by-one along the road. Damn cars." She wiped moisture from her eyes, "mmm, mmm, mmm," then from across her top lip. Her mouth pressed tight forming a thick shiny ruby line. Miss Clancy never left the house, not even to go to sit on her porch, without putting on her lipstick. "This girl deer, a doe, well, she got hit. I didn't see it, no, but I saw the damage. Came staggerin' out dem woods, rightch over dhere, behind dat big fir. They liked to hang out under dat dhere tree, big and secure, the limbs full, givin' 'em cover, you, know." She leaned back in the rocker, settling in this time and pushed off with her short heavy legs, moving the thick curved supports of the rocker back and forth, as she remembered her deer. She patted the arm of the leather wheelchair, parked next to her, as if it were on old friend by now."Emaciated. Looked like death when she came limpin' out, dragging behind her that left leg o' hers."She looked at me, listening to her, as my hands held up my head."Sissy? Why you wanna hear this darn story again?"My hand moved in a rolling motion to make her continue. I was sitting across from her on that old flaky pink swing of Miss Clancy's listening to her tell the story, again--my favorite story, one she always served with a glass of milk and some of her famous chocolate-peanut butter cookies. I reached over to the plate on the wicker table she had out on her porch, to get one more cookie, to take one more sip of the thick creamy sweet milk she served. It made me wonder why my own mom's milk tasted different. Maybe the difference came because of the stories Miss Clancy'd tell, sweet like that milk.She rolled her eyes at me and went on, making me twirl at my left braid and causing me to lean back, knowing where this one was going to take me."Dat little broken doe musta been down a week or two at least. Hadn't probly eaten for a long, long while. Amazin' she made it at all." Her voice arced up. Then her eyes squinted for the next few words. "But, she did." And, she chuckled in that deep basso sultry way she would, like someone with a secret. "'Course, ain't nobody makes it out o' this world livin'. Ain't nobody. Not me. Not you, young lady. No one." Then, she stopped rocking that old chair of hers. This time she was telling my story different. Looking me square in the eyes she said, "Any dream can turn, fast, into a nightmare."2"Made sure my staff, fed 'em anytime they showed. With sweet meal. Oats and molasses, apples too. Big fat ones from that dhere tree, dat very one. Gave 'em alfalfa hey to fatten 'er up. She loved alfalfa hay." Miss Clancy's eyes looked moist, near a thin film of skin appeared red then filtered out into a dark row where a set of short curly black eyelashes trimmed.She looked away from me out at the rolling swatch of land--a grassy patch of seventy-seven acres spreading off in all directions, looking like a place taken straight out of a garden magazine. She wiped a kerchief across the bottom of her nose. I flipped my hand at a fly that decided my cookies smelled good."Shoo, ya dagged stupid pest."Miss Clancy chuckled. "Sissy, you sure got a way wit dem words o' yours.""Go on, Miss Clancy. I love this here story o' yours. I wanna write it down someday.""Someday. Someday." She leaned forward as if imparting the most important lesson to me on this entire earth. "Someday, might never come. 'Member that, Sissy, and you got this here world by the tail." She smacked the arm of the wheelchair laughing out loud. "Live today. Only. You ain't never look back, then.""Miss Clancy, 'nuff with your philosophizing, please. Finish the story. I don't got all day. Momma said to git back by noon for lunch.""You gonna spoil that lunch, you keep on eatin' dem dhere cookies, young lady."I grabbed another one, despite her talk and leaned back on my swing. "Go on. I'm waitin'."She shook her head. "You heard it a million times, probly could tell it for me. Why you so dang set on hearin' it agin?"I just looked at my blue leather watch, the one momma found me at a yard sale, with Minnie Mouse's face etched into the yellow metal under its crystal. "Tick, tock." I tapped on it for added affect.