WHISTLE IN THE DARK (KELLY)
When I was younger I used to look at the silver screen and gaze at Lillian Gish. She was beautiful, charming and the first girl I ever had a liking for. She lived in New York City another world away Colorado. I was originally raised on the outskirts of Denver. I hadn’t seen a movie in ages much less a book. I went to school in the city where my father worked as a banker. My mother was a housewife and I had a younger sister in grade school. On October 29th 1929 the stock market crashed. A panic ensued and people ran to the bank to find their livelihood consumed, given out to bad loans. That afternoon as I walked in the door I saw the gun pressed to Pops head. After heard the explosion from the barrel, I exploded out the door. I hit the ground running. I arrived at a set of train tracks about five miles out of town. Wheezing and coughing the only solution I could come up with was catching the next train west. I wasn’t alone, five feet down the track I saw a gangly figure in the dusk. The silence was broken with the sound of the whistle and grinding of iron moving across iron. As it approached us ran like hell and vaulted myself into the first boxcar I saw. The gangly figure I had seen, tumbled, too onto wooden floor. From then on me and Jase, that was his name, when everywhere together. He was from Southern Wyoming and his pop had told him to beat it cus “they had too many mouths to feed”. Even though he was 14, two years my junior, he knew more than everyone I met combined. He was headed towards Nevada where he thought his uncle had a farm. He figured that he could always trade labor for some shelter and food, plus that was the best deal he had going. He taught me how to judge if a train was going to fast too jump on, and how to make a secret pocket in your jacket to hide money. One too many times, Jase and I were beaten up by others, when we refused to give them what little money or food we had. However most of the people we met were kind. They would tell us the places to go to get food and where the bulls wouldn’t check. Some where along the Texas border we found a camp that offered us a fire and mulligan’s stew. We stumbled to the outskirts of town and we dragged ourselves to a crowd of makeshifts tents and a fire. As I collapsed on to a log near the fire, I happened to look up. I don’t know if it was the exhaustions or the hunger but when I looked up I could of sworn I saw Lillian Gish standing in front of me. Her real name was Jackie but she was the second girl ever was struck by. With a few choice words and scowls Jase allowed her to accompany us across the country to Nevada.
The weather turned cool. Judging from the changing temperature I figured it had been two months since I had left. Many nights I was restlessly wondering what happened to my mother and my sister. Every time I tried to imagine them safe and sound I felt a sickness in my stomach and a burning in my eyes. About mid January I figured, Me Jase and Jackie hopped out of the boxcar hoping to catch the final train that would put us in Nevada. As we lay in wait Jase saw lights but it was too late. Two bulls grabbed us and two more encircled Jackie from behind. The fifth held a pistol level and ordered us empty our pockets and remove our caps. When we did as told, we had six cigarettes, a bag of dried apricots and five cents between the three of us. After taking the cigs and the five cents they told me and Jase to scram. Jackie began fighting like a wildcat and I threw myself at the bull pinning her arms. The bull’s fist landed square on jaw, staggering me to my knees. Eyes blurred, I heard the whistle and the grinding of wheels. Amongst the bull’s voices and Jackie’s screams, Jase pulled me up and we pitched forward, running. Jase heaved himself on the boxcar first, and then pulled me up a second after. My head swam with confusion, but after I realized what happened I bolted towards the open door. Jase tackled me back pinning me against the floor. My chest tightened and my throat choked up. I sat there with Jase’s hand on my back, crying the whole way into Nevada. We didn’t speak the whole time, just sat there staring at miles of dusty landscape. When we arrived at the town where Jase’s uncle lived, I said goodbye. He cocked his head and asked me where I was going. I told him I had no choice but to go find out what had happened to Mother and my little sister. I told him I would write and he just laughed saying he could barley remember his ABC’s. We parted ways and I started down the dirt road towards home.
When I was younger I used to look at the silver screen and gaze at Lillian Gish. She was beautiful, charming and the first girl I ever had a liking for. She lived in New York City another world away Colorado. I was originally raised on the outskirts of Denver. I hadn’t seen a movie in ages much less a book. I went to school in the city where my father worked as a banker. My mother was a housewife and I had a younger sister in grade school. On October 29th 1929 the stock market crashed. A panic ensued and people ran to the bank to find their livelihood consumed, given out to bad loans. That afternoon as I walked in the door I saw the gun pressed to Pops head. After heard the explosion from the barrel, I exploded out the door. I hit the ground running. I arrived at a set of train tracks about five miles out of town. Wheezing and coughing the only solution I could come up with was catching the next train west. I wasn’t alone, five feet down the track I saw a gangly figure in the dusk. The silence was broken with the sound of the whistle and grinding of iron moving across iron. As it approached us ran like hell and vaulted myself into the first boxcar I saw. The gangly figure I had seen, tumbled, too onto wooden floor. From then on me and Jase, that was his name, when everywhere together. He was from Southern Wyoming and his pop had told him to beat it cus “they had too many mouths to feed”. Even though he was 14, two years my junior, he knew more than everyone I met combined. He was headed towards Nevada where he thought his uncle had a farm. He figured that he could always trade labor for some shelter and food, plus that was the best deal he had going. He taught me how to judge if a train was going to fast too jump on, and how to make a secret pocket in your jacket to hide money. One too many times, Jase and I were beaten up by others, when we refused to give them what little money or food we had. However most of the people we met were kind. They would tell us the places to go to get food and where the bulls wouldn’t check. Some where along the Texas border we found a camp that offered us a fire and mulligan’s stew. We stumbled to the outskirts of town and we dragged ourselves to a crowd of makeshifts tents and a fire. As I collapsed on to a log near the fire, I happened to look up. I don’t know if it was the exhaustions or the hunger but when I looked up I could of sworn I saw Lillian Gish standing in front of me. Her real name was Jackie but she was the second girl ever was struck by. With a few choice words and scowls Jase allowed her to accompany us across the country to Nevada.
The weather turned cool. Judging from the changing temperature I figured it had been two months since I had left. Many nights I was restlessly wondering what happened to my mother and my sister. Every time I tried to imagine them safe and sound I felt a sickness in my stomach and a burning in my eyes. About mid January I figured, Me Jase and Jackie hopped out of the boxcar hoping to catch the final train that would put us in Nevada. As we lay in wait Jase saw lights but it was too late. Two bulls grabbed us and two more encircled Jackie from behind. The fifth held a pistol level and ordered us empty our pockets and remove our caps. When we did as told, we had six cigarettes, a bag of dried apricots and five cents between the three of us. After taking the cigs and the five cents they told me and Jase to scram. Jackie began fighting like a wildcat and I threw myself at the bull pinning her arms. The bull’s fist landed square on jaw, staggering me to my knees. Eyes blurred, I heard the whistle and the grinding of wheels. Amongst the bull’s voices and Jackie’s screams, Jase pulled me up and we pitched forward, running. Jase heaved himself on the boxcar first, and then pulled me up a second after. My head swam with confusion, but after I realized what happened I bolted towards the open door. Jase tackled me back pinning me against the floor. My chest tightened and my throat choked up. I sat there with Jase’s hand on my back, crying the whole way into Nevada. We didn’t speak the whole time, just sat there staring at miles of dusty landscape. When we arrived at the town where Jase’s uncle lived, I said goodbye. He cocked his head and asked me where I was going. I told him I had no choice but to go find out what had happened to Mother and my little sister. I told him I would write and he just laughed saying he could barley remember his ABC’s. We parted ways and I started down the dirt road towards home.