Read Online The Stone of Blood by Tony Nalley - Free Book Online Page A

heaven. We moved to the country where a house nestled at the base of a small mountain, would become our home.
     
    Mama told me that when my dad first saw this place that ‘ he was so excited! ’
     
    “ This is the place! This is gonna be our new home! ” My dad exclaimed.
     
    Overlookin’ farms and woodlands, these three acres brought forth: apples, cherries, pears, peaches, blackberries, grapes, persimmons, hickory nuts and wild onions! Not to mention the: green beans, corn, radishes, peas, potatoes, cabbage, squash, tomato’s and any other garden variety that we could ever possibly think of to grow!
     
    The Lord continually provided our home with a bountiful harvest! My dad hunted squirrels and rabbits in their seasons and we raised chickens for whenever we had need the whole year round!
     
    We always had food on the table; with Mama’s famous blackberry cobbler, biscuits and gravy with corn on the cob! And nobody could ever resist Mama’s chicken and dumplin’s!
     
    …The drum beats resounded in unison as the prisoners ascended the scaffold. It had henceforth been decreed by order of the Crown that all rights to a fair and speedy trial be rescinded.
     
    All had been found guilty of their crimes and all would now meet their fate at the guillotine!
     
    The harvesters axe now sharpened upon the stone, shown brilliantly in the light of the executioner’s sun. The drum beats rolled and then suddenly stopped: as heads held in place met the blades of the machine and blood replaced screams of pain...
     
    Likened unto the crops of the field, chickens are raised to be consumed. One can not become as close to these animals in spirit as to give em’ a name. Their purpose to be sustenance requires distance from ones heart. Though it was not an easy task, it had to be done.
     
    “ It’s all part of growing up and being a man. ” My dad said while placing his hand on my shoulder and lookin’ down upon me as father to son. “And a man has to take care of his family. ” He continued.
     
    One thing that I’d learned about in all my twelve years of growin’ up was that while there were things that had to be done in this world, you didn’t necessarily have to like em’!
     
    “ Sometimes you just have to do, what you have to do, Boy .” My dad said.
     
    I was mighty proud that he was my dad! And I hoped that one day I would become a man like my father was. But in moments such as these …I was mostly happy that I wasn’t the one who had to kill those chickens!
     
    “ These were hard times. ” I heard my parents say.
     
    But from a kid’s point of view, it was the way life was. We didn’t know anythin’ different. Life was fine as long as you weren’t born a chicken that is! And as long as nobody ever called you one!
     
    Bein’ called a chicken was pert near the worst thing a kid could ever be called! It not only implied that you were a chicken, but also that you were a yellow bellied coward! And bein’ called a yellow bellied coward was enough to fight somebody over, from where I come from!
     
    I wasn’t a chicken! I was brave! And bein’ brave meant that sometimes you had to fight to prove you weren’t chicken! And I would fight you too! I would!
     
    “ So if somebody dared you to jump off a bridge or be called a chicken would you jump off a bridge? ” My parents asked me time and time again.
     
    Of course the answer was supposed to be “NO!” I knew that. Everybody knew that! But when all of your friends are standin’ around and tauntin’ ya and saying that if you don’t do what they have dared you to do then it means that you’re a CHICKEN! Well, then it becomes a whole different situation entirely!
     
    Like when my friends dared me to jump over Scotty’s Creek on my bike. I told em’ that “ it was way too dangerous and all and that I couldn’t get muddy and stuff cause Mama said so. ” But they told me that “ if I didn’t do it, then I was a CHICKEN! ”
     
    They