Cultural
Background
Storyteller's Cabin
After the funeral, Tom went to live with Grandpa's eldest daughter, Kate. "Aunt Kate," as Tom always called her, was a bit on the heavy side - so large, in fact, that she could barely walk. After her father died, Aunt Kate was completely devastated. What little energy she had to raise herself out of bed in the morning quickly dissipated, and Tom was left with the task of running errands for her in town.
The road to town was a battered, one lane dirt road that snaked around the steep hills and down into the valley. During the day, it was a beautiful walk - on some days, you could see parts of North Carolina from up top. But most folks stayed away from the road at night, for it passed right by the town cemetery. The cemetery was already a spooky place, with its cold stone slabs surrounded by eerie oak trees, and a rusty iron gate that bent and creaked in the stiff mountain wind. To the already superstitious mountain folk, it was definitely off limits at night.
But to Tom, invincible teenager that he was, fears about the graveyard were silly. He thought nothing of returning home along the town road at sunset. One day, he even stayed at a friend's house in town until way past supper time, when the skies were already pitch black dark. His friends tried to talk him into staying the night, but Tom shrugged them off with a grin. Lighting his lantern, he started on the long road back home.
Return to top
© 1997-2006