It was a beautiful night for the 1961 Walker Creek Harvest Festival. I don't think there's ever been a better night for one. Then again, I'm suppose I'm biased by the memories I have of that day. The night I met my wife, Julia. Crisp autumn wind, festive dancing, beautiful decorations on main street. The perfect night. I saw her across the dance floor, looking like the most perfect woman I've ever seen in my life. Beautiful hair, a stunning dress. I asked her to dance, she said yes, and you can assume the rest of course. I don't want to talk about every detail on my blog. Some memories are best kept to myself. But that's why I love the Harvest Festival and why I remember it each year.
-Trevor
0 Comments
Well here we are. First story I wanted to tell to y'all. I mentioned it here before and I figured it would be a good starting point. In 1959 I injured my leg to the point where I could never run again. Anytime I tried caused immense pain. I had to use a cane from then on frequently. Still never forgave myself for that stupid shit. I was a complete dumbass in my 20's. If any of you out there are in your 20's and think you're not a moron then you're wrong, trust me. But hopefully this story can get through some of your skulls.
It was a cool June evening, my pals and I were out drinking and trespassing in the neighborhood, typical antics for that age. We were in Ms. Beezeworth's backyard when a damn gunshot flew over our heads. It wasn't the first time, but it was the last for me at least. Everyone had guns in Walker Creek, but it was common courtesy to fire a warning shot or two before blowing anyone's brains out. So there we were, getting shot at, and booking it over the fence. Ms. Beezeworth's backyard was directly against the woods, so it definitely wasn't the smartest idea but being shot at changes your thought process. Anyway, we were running for our lives but we heard something else running after us, and it sure as hell wasn't Ms. Beezeworth. A coyote, a bear, a wolf? I still don't know. Still lucky we didn't get ripped to shreds. Unfortunately, my leg did while I was jumping a fence to get out of the forest. I was the last one of us to get over. The thing chasing us was fast. Faster than us, so the only explanation is that it was just playing with us. God, I still don't know why I did things like that. Learned my lesson at that point. It took three weeks of being bedridden to get up and about again. Could barely walk, and after a few months when I finally could, I couldn't run anymore. That night haunted me for the rest of my life. So there's an interesting story for you. -Trevor |
AuthorTrevor Magnil Archives
November 2021
Categories |