He stowed the treasure in his pants pocket and began to search the creek. He waded up and down, turned over rocks, and dug into the mud with his fingers, but he didn’t find any more marbles.
The heavy feeling in his chest that had become so familiar began to settle back over him, making him realize that it . . . Continue Reading
Ruminating on the day, the peach and purple sky giving way to black, I was drawn back to the morning’s service and the disembodied sound of a dulcimer plucking out the mournful . . . Continue Reading
Her deep connection with these Appalachian Mountains is evident in her poetry. Her words encapsulate the very essence of this region – from ancestors to the natural world and in between. Her own mountain spirit and philosophy of interconnectedness flow through her poetry . . .Continue Reading
It looked like all his worldly possessions were in the cart. He was holding up a cardboard sign that said, “Please Help.” Next to him, sitting at his feet, was a small brown dog.
Like everyone else, I passed him by, but, as I drove away, it began to bother me. I’m not wealthy, but I could certainly . . . Continue Reading
I saw your face, and felt the gravity of the moment. The ghost inside echoed the shift, recording the tangent in my course. Your words, your touch, and your spirit nudged my bearing. Tracking left and right, I found no center where once it guided. Bending to the mass ofContinue Reading
I spy my love along the ridge, a silhouette in shadows of black. I stand with my heart a breakin’ ‘fore I fear he’s not coming back. We were to be married this autumn but the war broke out in June. With brothers at odds in the fighting, I fearContinue Reading
They waited for me before they took him. I closed the car door, slogged past family, noted the numbed, distant faces and swollen, zoned eyes; passed the old country roses, sweet and sundry; passed his hand-crafted shed that smelled of fresh cedar, heard the bustle of birds all around, aflutter.Continue Reading
With trepidation; I approached my childhood Appalachian home, a shack really, high above the railroad tracks. The sole remaining object was the toilet, standing forlorn among the broken shards of rotten wood. A toilet, ironically, that we were never allowed to use, when there was a perfectly good leaf availableContinue Reading
Sometimes situations interrupt what a person has planned. Repercussions are felt in several areas, like a faceted, imperfect jewel. As Chief Editor of Appalachia Bare, I have planned so many things this year, and, hopefully, they will all work out just fine. But a recent event occurred that put aContinue Reading
Losing him at the instant of diagnosis, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind but hers, his grandmother watched You wink from view until no more than a grainy dot on the horizon’s last glorious performance of the Great Withdrawal. The picture of a small girl insisting on her way thisContinue Reading