Delta’s House was on Riverside Drive; during the last of the 19th Century, the homes were considered mansions. One by one they were torn down and replaced with Gone With the Wind replicas. Eventually, only Delta’s house was left, and it was in disrepair. The former white paint was only visible in blistered patches under the gables.
Delta was born in 1920, her mother was an alcoholic and caused a great deal of scandal and gossip, until her death from consumption, during the Great Depression. It was said, her mother had gone through her inheritance throwing lavish parties with Canadian alcohol during Prohibition; no one really knew for sure, but the Bell Mansion, Delta’s home, began its slow slide into shabbiness and sloth, after her mother’s death. The grand furniture was still in the mansion, but eventually, the leather coverings and fine Walnut and Mahogany furniture dries and cracks, without care, and the furniture becomes enveloped in dust.
A Negro man servant was all that remained of a once large staff needed to care for the Bell Mansion, but he never spoke to anyone, when he came out to buy a few groceries, once in a while.
Her father kept up the pretenses of wealth, as best he could, but his clothes began to look threadbare by the time the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. He drank himself into an oblivious stupor before the war was over and hanged himself on December 31, 1945.
Delta had a fling with a gambling man, during the war. Everyone wanted to tell her he was low down and no account, but she did seem happy for the first time in her life. People were glad she was having a good time, even if her dream was nothing more than a wisp of smoke. Toward the end of 1945, Delta’s gambling beau disappeared. People figured he skipped out on a gambling debt, but some said he wasn’t a natural man, and it was inevitable that his fascination for young men would be discovered by Delta Bell. Everyone agreed, he either wasn’t capable of fulfilling her dreams or she found out about his indiscretions, and told him to leave.
People felt sorry for Delta Bell, for she never ventured out after the gambler disappeared, but she would sit in front of a second story window in the evening with a faint glimmer of a lamp silhouetting her form as she stared into the night.
During the fifties, the weeds overgrew the yard. The upscale neighbors considered the Bell Mansion to be an eyesore that should be condemned and razed, but the mayor and the police chief, over generations, couldn’t bring themselves to harass the tiny woman whose life seemed to be plagued with misfortune.
The 60’s passed, and even bigger mansions were being built on Riverside Drive, it was considered to be the most fashionable street to live on, except for the Bell Mansion. Every family has a relative that is a little strange, and that is how the young affluent neighbors regarded Delta Bell and her mansion.
She was allowed to drift through the decades; until the spring of 2013, a big windstorm blew away a portion of the roof, on the front of the house.
The silent Negro man was seen leaving that morning, with a small suitcase of clothes. He boarded a bus at the Greyhound station and left town, never to return.
The residents of Riverside Drive insisted, that the police chief should call on Delta Bell to check on her, because Delta wasn’t answering the door.
The current police chief and a deputy, along with the mayor, called the local TV news crew and they were filmed on an auspicious humanitarian mission. After knocking on the door several times, the deputy slammed the door open with his shoulder, and the old wooden door splintered into three pieces.
They entered the building with the TV crew filming. The first floor and the once regal furniture was coated in a thick layer of dust. The second floor had several bedrooms and two baths. The filth was overwhelming and there was a strong sweet stench on the second floor. One of the bedrooms was locked, and again the deputy broke apart the door.
When the city officials and film crew entered the room, they found Delta’s remains in a queen bed covered in dust and next to her was another body, a body that had withered away until the skin was dried leather over a rack of bones, there was a death’s grin showing on the dried face with all the teeth exposed on the long-ago deceased male body next to her.
Epilogue: This story is not my typical story, but these are not typical times. We seem about to embrace an unworkable law with so many patches the original material is longer visible. Our president has been exposed as an incompetent fool who figures he can mold his law to fit his ideas, on how to make things work and keep Liberals in power. However americans must now ask, if the president is so incompetent, perhaps the reason the economy has been floundering for five years might just an even larger result of his incompetency.
It is time to bring this administration of ineptness to heel. Americans have suffered enough as a result of our Socialist experiment. It is time to repeal and impeach, and get back the America we once knew.
Our media, like the city officials ignored the malignancy of this administration and now, the real facts are going to be exposed.
A professional horseman for over 50 years, Skook continues to work with horses. Skook has finished an historical novel, Fifty Thousand Years, that traces a mitochondrial line of DNA from 50,000 years ago to the present. The story follows a line of courageous women, from the Ice Ages to the present, as they meet the challenges of survival with grit and creativity. These are not women who whimper of being victims, they meet the challenges of survival as women who use their abilities without excuses or remorse, these women are winners, they are our ancestors.