Crossing Turtle Creek

Crossing Turtle Creek

  I watched the straw dust falling through the gaps in the ancient grey floorboards of the hayloft above. Aroused by our intent, motes of dust, illuminated by the full moon shining through the barn’s open window, jostled for a better position from which to watch. Chickens in their coops tucked their heads beneath their wings in false modesty. I brushed a lock of hair from her face, letting the moon bounce back from her widened eyes. Her electric eyes, neither green nor blue, spawned incandescent sparks deep within. I brushed my lips against the lobe of her ear, tongue tracing the taut curve of her neck. She trembled in an involuntary quiver, a churning warm desire that threatened to break the dam. I looked in her eyes as I slipped the top button of her blouse open, tracing my fingertip across the exposed curve of her breast. Her eyes never left mine as she unbuttoned the next. Then the next, my lips following her down each step.

  We lay entangled, racing hearts galloping together past the restraints placed upon us by those who do not, could never, understand the forces at work. How our desire had become like the creek gorged at spring, threatening to leap its banks if not offered release. Our hands and lips defined the mysteries we had only been able to dream about. She guided me with an acceptance lathered with relief, melting together our desire into an unspoken pact. Unrestrained by hesitation, we leapt into the chasm, holding each other tightly. We flew together like two wings that have found each other, higher and higher, until our bodies clenched together and began the drop. Faster…faster…together we streaked from the heavens towards our earthly bonds, crashing into the woven blanket molded into a pile of straw, our bodies exploding into a pile of us, no recognizable fragments left of her or I. We settled into the satisfying softness of our embrace, sleep continuing our impossible dream.

  I dreamt of Turtle Creek, and across it stood my love. She wordlessly beckoned to me, her simple white robe falling open to reveal her nakedness beneath. I slipped into the water to cross the creek which I could easily conquer in ten strong strokes. I knifed through the water like an otter, only to glance up at my love and to see that I had gotten no closer to her on the far bank. I doubled my efforts, but the stream seemed to widen and become more turbulent with every stroke. My energy sapping, I dove beneath the water, deep, trying to avoid the torrent at the top. My head struck a rock…

  I awoke instantly, my eyes tearing with the bright glare through the barn window and the stars swimming in my vision. As my eyes focused, I was staring up both barrels of a 12-gauge shotgun leveled at my face. A drip of blood rolled past my eyelid and onto my cheek. I could feel others following its sticky path. A second man grabbed me and yanked me to my feet. He held me roughly as the other man lowered the shotgun and leaned down to grab the blanket and yank it over my loves body.

  “Cover yerself girl and get inside that house!” She scampered away like a Halloween ghost with that blanket over her head. The woven patterned blanket. Our blanket. I turned to protest but caught the shotgun butts second attempt to behead me on the left temple. The darkness dispelled any curiosity about my fate.

***

  “Wake your ass up!”

  My eyes struggled to open, each feeling as if they were separated by a chasm of pain. Two men came into focus, standing beneath a canopy of Spanish moss. Sunlight sliced through the foliage cutting the scene into flashes of focus sandwiched between a moist distorted darkness of green. I could hear the nearby water run, but the sounds of birds and animals alike were hushed in silent anticipation. As my head cleared, I could feel the trunk of a tree pressing against my back. My hands were bound behind the tree, stretching my shoulders to a painful degree. Other ropes held my waist and ankles firmly in front of the trunk. My head rolled forward unbound, and I could see my naked body. I could feel their eyes studying me, but there was no cover for my shame.

  “What’s yer name boy?” spoke the older of the two, punctuated by his hawking a gooey sop of chew to the ground near my feet. Bushy graying eyebrows punctuated his sneer.

  “Randle sir. Bo Randle sir.” I managed to croak out through blood crusted lips. I looked up at the man before me.

  He turned to his companion beside him and raised his eyebrows as he said, “A Randle he says!”

  The other was younger, a rough looking fellow, shirtless with a pair of faded overalls strapped over his shoulders. “Pa, this one don’t look like any Randall I’ve ever seen. He’s too…pretty.”

  So, father and son I figured, and a fair assumption that they were from the same family as my previous night’s partner. Where in her eyes I saw bliss, in theirs lingered a scornful contempt. Her skin smooth and glowing was in stark contrast to the men’s cracked and weathered faces. But I did perceive a likeness, and who other than the owner of the barn and the girl was likely to have trussed me up such.

  “You mean the Randle’s that live in the big house up Coppertop Ridge? You from that family boy?”

  “Why, yes sir, Frank Randle’s youngest son.”

  “Well would you looky here, I got myself a real Randle. Found him sleeping too! On my property, on my straw, on my horse blanket, and lastly but most importantly, on my daughter!” The man slapped me with the back of his hand and the hornets’ nest in my head churned with angry activity.

  “Her being sixteen years old ever enter your mind before you entered her?” The man's face was close and spittle flecked his lips as he screamed at me.

  “But…but…I’m only sixteen too! And I love her!”

  “Love? Boy, you have no idea what love is. You think it comes from that thing dangling down there?” My eyes followed his as they dropped to my penis. Inexplicably, fueled by fear perhaps, it gave a subtle surge of life and throbbed perceptibly.

  “See! The damn things thirsting for more already!” Father turned to son and said solemnly, “Get the turtle.”

  I couldn’t see where the young man went, but I heard the tailgate of a pickup drop open, then a scraping sound like someone was dragging their fingernails across the trucks bed. In a moment he returned, and I threw up all over myself. Struggling to avoid the claws that were lashing out wildly, the son needed both hands to grip the shell of a mammoth snapping turtle. As he held it nearer to me its dragon head reached out from its hiding place, long neck extending as he seemed to sniff at my crotch. I didn’t know turtles could, but I swear that this one hissed at me.

   “I’m sorry mister, I am!” I cried.

   The turtle sniffed my fear. Shotgun man set down his weapon and picked up a branch as thick as my wrist. Feeling no need for narration he poked the stick at the snapper. It’s head, green tendrils of water plants clinging to it, whipped towards the branch and snapped it into two pieces.

  “I love your daughter; I swear I do!” I pleaded before he could return the turtles attention to me. I knew that with one quick bite, I would never get to love her again. I was helpless, already imaging the turtle stifling a smile as my tool dangled from his hooked beak-like mouth.

  “What do you think son? How bout having a Randall in the family?” said the old man to the younger. One bushy eyebrow cocked in an arch, and a crazy smile crept onto his face. “Go get her from the truck.”

   My heart swelled at the sight of my soul mate as her brother led her to stand before me. She wore a simple dress and her eyes darted nervously from me to them.

  I heard the cocking of the double barrel 12 gauge before I saw it. Her father stood holding it inches from my face.

  “Repeat after me.” I didn’t mistake it for a request. “My darling Eloise…” he paused.

  “Muh…my…darling Eloise…” I stammered.

  “We have joined as adults, and I now ask you as an adult…”.

  “We have joined…um… as adults, and I now ask you, as an adult…”

  “Will you marry me?” He finished. I paused incredulously, but he emphasized my role with a poke of the gun in my face. “Make sure that’s not just turtle talking now.” He whispered.

    Between the insistent attention of a large snapping turtle eyeing my dick and a hillbilly ready to blow off my head, I did the only thing that I could. “W..Wi…Will…you marry me?” I asked.

***

  Eloise moved into our big house on Coppertop Ridge, and despite constant entreaties through the years, avoided her families wishes to join us there. We stayed after my parents passed, raising four children of our own. On Sundays we take the kids across Turtle Creek to visit their grandparents and aunts, uncles, and cousins. I tell them that there’s snappers that are big as ponies in that creek, and you better take care if you ever try to swim across. Fascinated as youngsters, they fell into disbelief as the years rolled by.

  Forty years after I married her the girl with the moonlit eyes who lived across Turtle Creek takes my hand, a woven blanket under her arm. We head to the barn, illuminated by the full moon, to remember.

The End