Zmiana sposobu prezentacji
The Unbelievable Case of the Haunted Dog
I am not one to normally buy into the whole ghostly thing and used to think that people who believed in them were just a bit touched in the head. After all, I have never seen a ghost or even heard their ghostly wails.
But that all changed last Friday!
I had just made a quick stop at a local hardware store to pick up some wire screen to replace the one my dog (his nickname is Butt Head) had torn up on my screened porch for the sixth time. I was determined that this was the last time I was going to repair something that dog had destroyed. It was down to HIM or Me. I would not lose this battle. It would be mano e dogo!
Butt Head (Jackson is his real name) had come to live with us about a year ago and at first he was a cute little Jack Russell Terrier who loved to jump in my lap, chase his tail and do all the cute things puppies do. But at some point……not sure exactly when…..that all changed. The first clue that some evil spirit had taken over my cute little puppy was when he decided that he was no longer going to be put in his cage at night or whenever we left the house for a while.
At first I could just pick him up and put him in his cage….no problem. But now it was a battle of endurance to see if he could evade me and the broom (the broom is my enforcer) long enough for me to just give up. He would run in circles in the kitchen or living room or backyard or wherever I tried to catch him. And just at the moment (...)
--- cały tekst ---
Chapter 1
A Brief History of Tuckertown
Jubal Tucker was not exactly your typical pioneer type. He owned a tavern outside of Boston in the late 1700’s and married Susannah McClesky, the daughter of a well-to-do landowner named Tobias McClesky. In addition to being basically a lazy, shiftless sort of character, Jubal had an eye for the ladies. He was tall angular man with an imposing shock of black hair, a hawk-billed nose and droopy eyes. He also shuffled his feet when he walked, swaying back and forth in a sort of undulating fashion that reminded one of a camel. When he and Susannah had only been married about 6 months she caught him in a compromising situation with another lady. All Jubal could say was, “I didn’t mean to.”
Tobias had him tarred and feathered and run out of town and he was never seen in the Boston area again. The story has it that he wandered southward for the rest of that year and finally set up camp on Little Beaver Creek near what is now Tuckertown. It was a trading route used by the early settlers who were trading with the Cherokee and Catawba Indians. He built a small cabin that was later expanded into a tavern. Most of the early “hooch” that was sold to the settlers and Indians was “brewed” out behind Tuckers’ Tavern. It was horrible tasting stuff but it obviously packed quite a punch because it was an instant hit with the locals.
Gradually the settlement grew as (...)
--- cały tekst ---
The Hanging Bridge
A crowd had gathered at the entrance to Macon Bridge to watch the hanging. As long as anyone could remember, executions decreed by Judge Clemmons had been carried out on the old bridge. At some point a stout beam had been attached that extended about three feet out from the side of the bridge over the roaring water of the Reedy River. Beneath it, a platform had been built with a trap door that was controlled by a lever on the bridge. More times than people cared to remember the trap door and the beam had functioned flawlessly and justice had been dealt out quickly and mercilessly.
Boone McCracken stood at the side of the bridge, hands bound tightly behind his back by a strong rope, surrounded by seven men; the posse that captured him. He knew that resistance was futile and he offered none. The judge had ordered his hanging to take place at exactly 12:00 noon. He glanced at the sun in the sky and reckoned it to be close to noon now. Sheriff Bailey placed the noose over Boone’s head and tightened it around his neck just enough so that he was not choking. Then the sheriff read from a piece of paper he pulled from his weathered leather vest.
“Boone McCracken, you have been found guilty of the murder of Alice Monroe and according to the laws of this territory you shall be hanged by the neck until dead. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?
“I ain’t kilt nobody. I done told (...)
--- cały tekst ---
