You know, I’m grateful for this depression. Yup, grateful. I’ve never had this much freedom and I’ve never been this happy before. You see, while most kids left their families and started riding the rails because their families couldn’t feed them, I left to get away from my family and start a whole new life and go on a grand adventure. About five years ago when I was thirteen, my father married this horrible woman who chose to take her anger out on me. My father chose to turn his head at these moments, never really caring what happened to me. It wasn’t until I was sixteen when my father started beating me, too. On my seventeenth birthday is when I decided to run away, which was the best decision I have ever made. There wasn’t anything at home to eat, anyway. My father worked in the lumber industry in eastern Texas but we were still deeply affected by the depression. There was not enough food in the house to even feed one of us so I’m sure my parents were excited when they woke up to find me gone.
However, that was a year ago and now its 1931, probably sometime in May or June and I’m still in Texas. You see, for most of the year, I tried to find a job, maybe do some temporary labor for famers, but nobody wanted the help of a teenage girl. I was sure I was going to die of starvation until I decided to take matters into my own hands. I started making “friends” with the younger, smaller kids I met in the hobo camps and taught them how to steal food. You see, the smaller the kids, the easier it is for them to slip by people or through windows unlike older kids like me who draw attention to ourselves just because of our age. It’s amazing what people will do, kids included, when they’re hungry. After stealing and storing a good amount of food from houses and camps for a couple of weeks, I take all the food and run away, usually in the middle of the night. It’s cruel, but smart. I get somebody to steal food for me and in return I don’t have to share food with them or watch out for them. After all, I was still just a teenage girl, a target among many cruel and older men with disgusting intentions. I had to put myself before others.
So that’s what I been doing for the past couple months and now I’m with my newest partner. I met Harper at a railroad between Cass County, where I’m from, and Amarillo, Texas. She was a scared little thing, which made her a great target. It wasn’t hard to gain her trust and I’m pretty sure she thinks of me like an older sister. She listens to everything I tell her to do, even if that includes stealing food. She was pretty apprehensive at first but later she became too hungry to care. Now we’re in Amarillo, Texas and a couple hours earlier Harper slipped into a house near the rails and stole the only food in there, a half a loaf of bread, evaporated milk, a couple cans of beans and a tin of tuna, all of which are stored in her backpack. Along with the mulligan stew we stored from the hobo camps, we had a good amount of food. Now we’re back at the rails, waiting for the train to come by so we can hop on and head towards Los Angeles. I wasn’t really planning on leaving Texas but Harper was heading that way and I might as well stick with her a little longer and see what else I could use her for.
As the beginning of the train sped by us, Harper and I began running and getting ready to hop on the train when she yelled, “Jezebel, I think some bulls are coming”. Sure enough, there were two bulls running after us. Nobody wanted to be stopped by bulls, including me.
“Alright, well we will just get on the train before they get us. Hand me the backpack after I get on. I’ll pull you up afterwards. Ready?” Harper mumbled a yes, most likely scared, which she should be. If only she knew what was going to happen to her in the next couple of minutes. I paced myself so I would arrive at the train the same time an open cart rolled by and jumped, tightly gripping onto a handrail that hung off the side of one of the boxcars. Using all my energy, I pulled myself inside the cart and positioned myself so I could pull Harper in. But you see, I was not actually going to pull Harper inside, but instead feed her to the bulls. I was not initially going to leave her now but this was now a perfect opportunity I couldn’t waste. So after Harper threw me the backpack, while still struggling to keep up with the train, I stuck my arm out towards her. Behind Harper, and steadily approaching, were the two bulls. Harper tried exceptionally hard to grab hold of my hand while running but I kept most of my arm inside the cart, knowing she will never be able to grab it, but kept enough outside to make it look like I was trying. As we were nearing a corner, I told Harper that I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer but right as I said that, she tripped over another track running parallel to the train I was on. Harper roughly crashed towards the ground, skidding a few feet and then finally coming to a stop, letting the bulls finally catch up to her. But who knows if she was even still alive? I’ve seen many teenagers die because they fell off or under the trains, and it was a sickening sight. But, that’s not my problem now.
After watching the bulls surround Harper on the ground, I pulled my arm back inside and sat back against the wall of the cart. I know I should probably feel guilty for doing that to a little girl. I know I should have been thinking about how bad of a person I was and how I would never forgive myself. But instead, all I did was turn to the little boy near me in the cart and introduce myself.
“Hey, the name’s Jezebel. You?”
“Timmy”, he replied shyly.
“Well Timmy, I think we’re gonna be great friends.” I smiled widely at him and he returned the favor. Looks like I found my new partner.
FEEDING THE BULLS (TAYLOR)
You know, I’m grateful for this depression. Yup, grateful. I’ve never had this much freedom and I’ve never been this happy before. You see, while most kids left their families and started riding the rails because their families couldn’t feed them, I left to get away from my family and start a whole new life and go on a grand adventure. About five years ago when I was thirteen, my father married this horrible woman who chose to take her anger out on me. My father chose to turn his head at these moments, never really caring what happened to me. It wasn’t until I was sixteen when my father started beating me, too. On my seventeenth birthday is when I decided to run away, which was the best decision I have ever made. There wasn’t anything at home to eat, anyway. My father worked in the lumber industry in eastern Texas but we were still deeply affected by the depression. There was not enough food in the house to even feed one of us so I’m sure my parents were excited when they woke up to find me gone.
However, that was a year ago and now its 1931, probably sometime in May or June and I’m still in Texas. You see, for most of the year, I tried to find a job, maybe do some temporary labor for famers, but nobody wanted the help of a teenage girl. I was sure I was going to die of starvation until I decided to take matters into my own hands. I started making “friends” with the younger, smaller kids I met in the hobo camps and taught them how to steal food. You see, the smaller the kids, the easier it is for them to slip by people or through windows unlike older kids like me who draw attention to ourselves just because of our age. It’s amazing what people will do, kids included, when they’re hungry. After stealing and storing a good amount of food from houses and camps for a couple of weeks, I take all the food and run away, usually in the middle of the night. It’s cruel, but smart. I get somebody to steal food for me and in return I don’t have to share food with them or watch out for them. After all, I was still just a teenage girl, a target among many cruel and older men with disgusting intentions. I had to put myself before others.
So that’s what I been doing for the past couple months and now I’m with my newest partner. I met Harper at a railroad between Cass County, where I’m from, and Amarillo, Texas. She was a scared little thing, which made her a great target. It wasn’t hard to gain her trust and I’m pretty sure she thinks of me like an older sister. She listens to everything I tell her to do, even if that includes stealing food. She was pretty apprehensive at first but later she became too hungry to care. Now we’re in Amarillo, Texas and a couple hours earlier Harper slipped into a house near the rails and stole the only food in there, a half a loaf of bread, evaporated milk, a couple cans of beans and a tin of tuna, all of which are stored in her backpack. Along with the mulligan stew we stored from the hobo camps, we had a good amount of food. Now we’re back at the rails, waiting for the train to come by so we can hop on and head towards Los Angeles. I wasn’t really planning on leaving Texas but Harper was heading that way and I might as well stick with her a little longer and see what else I could use her for.
As the beginning of the train sped by us, Harper and I began running and getting ready to hop on the train when she yelled, “Jezebel, I think some bulls are coming”. Sure enough, there were two bulls running after us. Nobody wanted to be stopped by bulls, including me.
“Alright, well we will just get on the train before they get us. Hand me the backpack after I get on. I’ll pull you up afterwards. Ready?” Harper mumbled a yes, most likely scared, which she should be. If only she knew what was going to happen to her in the next couple of minutes. I paced myself so I would arrive at the train the same time an open cart rolled by and jumped, tightly gripping onto a handrail that hung off the side of one of the boxcars. Using all my energy, I pulled myself inside the cart and positioned myself so I could pull Harper in. But you see, I was not actually going to pull Harper inside, but instead feed her to the bulls. I was not initially going to leave her now but this was now a perfect opportunity I couldn’t waste. So after Harper threw me the backpack, while still struggling to keep up with the train, I stuck my arm out towards her. Behind Harper, and steadily approaching, were the two bulls. Harper tried exceptionally hard to grab hold of my hand while running but I kept most of my arm inside the cart, knowing she will never be able to grab it, but kept enough outside to make it look like I was trying. As we were nearing a corner, I told Harper that I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer but right as I said that, she tripped over another track running parallel to the train I was on. Harper roughly crashed towards the ground, skidding a few feet and then finally coming to a stop, letting the bulls finally catch up to her. But who knows if she was even still alive? I’ve seen many teenagers die because they fell off or under the trains, and it was a sickening sight. But, that’s not my problem now.
After watching the bulls surround Harper on the ground, I pulled my arm back inside and sat back against the wall of the cart. I know I should probably feel guilty for doing that to a little girl. I know I should have been thinking about how bad of a person I was and how I would never forgive myself. But instead, all I did was turn to the little boy near me in the cart and introduce myself.
“Hey, the name’s Jezebel. You?”
“Timmy”, he replied shyly.
“Well Timmy, I think we’re gonna be great friends.” I smiled widely at him and he returned the favor. Looks like I found my new partner.