Cultural
Background
Storyteller's Cabin
Nellie, who was the oldest, put on her pink swimsuit with purple polka dots, and Jean (the more practical of the two), her basic blue with red trim. The girls quietly closed the door to their bedroom, tiptoed to the kitchen, got their pails from the shelf under the sink and oh-so quietly made their way to the back door. You see, they were trying to stay as quiet as possible so as not to awaken Grandma Matilda, who had a room in the back of the house.
Just as Jean put her hand on the door knob and turned it, "Jean, Nellie -- Y'all trying to sneak past me? Come here, I got something to tell you 'fore you go." The girls looked at each other, and with a sigh of disgust, they shuffled towards Gra'ma Matilda's room; for they know that they were in store for the usual lecture. "Y'all stick together. Don't wander too far off the road, you might get lost," she'd say. Or, "Don't let darkness catch you on that old dirt road, make sure you're back before nightfall." Or her all time favorite, "stay out of the Gongetcha Woods at all costs. Strange things are known to happen in those woods."
But on this particular day, Ma'Tilda (that's what the girls called her) seemed even more eager to give the girls their usual lecture. She sat them both down on her bed and looked them straight in the eyes and said the strangest thing, "If you hear a chain rattling on a tree nearby, be careful 'cause it might just be a plat-eye." Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out two smelly little pieces of burlap, each tied into a tight knot. She handed each girl a bundle and told them, "Keep this with you at all times today. Make sure it's always in your pocket, no matter what happens."
The girls took the bags, out of respect for their grandma, gave her a kiss and bounded out of the room. But before they could clear the doorway she blurted out "......and make sure you stay out of those Gongetcha Woods! Strange things have been known to happen there."
Once the girls were out of Ma 'Tilda's earshot, they laughed and giggled about the silly things their Grandma had hold them. They thought it was awful strange, her telling them to carry those smelly little bags in their pockets, and rambling on and on about chains, trees, plat-eyes (whatever they were) and the Gongetcha Woods; but they dismissed it as the babbling of a half senile old woman. They grabbed their towels, dropped the burlap bags on the table and headed for the ever beckoning coolness of the swimming hole.
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