Dear Readers

Fear not the Darkness, But What Lies Within, The recesses of our mind, The creepy cobwebbed corners,That lingers on and tickles us,With tingle feelings of alarm, The deep in the stomach, Pain we feel when we do warn, The fear is deadly it seeks, The deepest corner of our mind, It's just a story to alarm,Educate and provide entertainment for our minds. So read on dear reader, I hope you find the stories amusing and full of charm.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Three Word Wednesday - Home Children-Part 3

Detach; verb: Disengage (something or part of something) and remove it; leave or separate oneself from (a group or place); avoid or put an end to any connection or association.
Jolt; verb: Push or shake (someone or something) abruptly and roughly; give a surprise or shock to (someone) in order to make them act or change; noun: An abrupt rough or violent movement; a surprise or shock, especially of an unpleasant kind and often manifested physically.
Surge; noun: A sudden powerful forward or upward movement, esp. by a crowd or by a natural force such as the waves or tide; a sudden large increase, typically a brief one that happens during an otherwise stable or quiescent period; verb: (Of a crowd or a natural force) move suddenly and powerfully forward or upward; increase suddenly and powerfully, typically during an otherwise stable or quiescent period.

Home Children-Part 3

    Henry stepped down from the wagon, his little legs feeling detached and barely holding him up in his fright. He remembered his mother telling him to be brave and he straightened his shoulders standing up tall. The house before him was one of the biggest he’d ever seen. Were these people wealthy? Henry wondered.
The house reminded him of the story his mother had once told him of a gingerbread house that held a witch. He peered closely at Mrs. Smith to see if she fit that category, but she only appeared older than his mother. She was probably fifty he judged by her gray hair and wrinkles. She was petite barely five feet tall. Mr. Smith was a burly man standing six feet tall and weighing nearly three hundred pounds but oddly enough not appearing fat, just big and slightly scary; to the small boy who because of lack of food had not come into his height yet.
“Well then come in then.” The woman “This is our house.”
“The boy will sleep there” Mrs. Smith pointing to a small room off the kitchen .
“We will expect the boy to help out on the farm but he’ll have a good life here.” Mr. Smith said gruffly.
Henry watched as Miss Lamb nodded and then made haste to leave.
“Goodbye Henry I’ll come check on you in a few months.” Miss Lamb whispered in his ear. Then she got into the wagon and left down the country road.
“Come on then boy put your stuff down there. There’s work to be done. I’ve already wasted the day waiting for you.” Mr. Smith said curtly
Henry hurriedly obeyed and followed Mr. Smith as he walked into a field.
“Well boy what are you waiting for get to work.”
Henry looked at the man in surprise .What did he want Henry to do? Henry was willingly to learn but he knew nothing about farming.
“Good God boy, you are worse than useless, I need a farm hand not a useless waste of my time and money.”
“Show me what to do so and I’ll do it.” Henry begged.
“Take the horse and fallow the field.”
“No fallows, God damn it.” Mr. Smith said striking him across the face.
“I don’t understand sir.” Henry protested.
“Forget it I’ll plow the field. The apples need picking anyway go into the orchard and start picking them and put them into the barrels. You can do that can’t you boy?”
“Yes sir.” Henry answered scared and wiping the blood away from his mouth. He felt the bruise coming up and grimaced but hurried to the orchard lest Mr. Smith decide to hit him again.
“Well what are you waiting for?”
“Where is the orchard?”
“Over that field about one thousand yards.”
Henry surged forward as fast as his legs could carry him. Even though he was hungry and thirsty, he picked apples until the sun set in the sky and then he went back to the farm house. Henry hands hurt, his legs hurt from climbing the trees but he was proud he had worked hard. Surely this would make Mr. Smith happy?
“Well boy how many barrels have you filled?” asked Mr. Smith.
Five sir.” answered Henry.
“You little you think that’s hard work? I could have filled ten barrels by now. Those apples have to go to market by the end of the week. Do I have to do everything myself.” Mr. Smith asked as he kicked Henry his boots kicking everywhere at once or so it seemed to Henry.
“Let this be a lesson to you boy. Ava give the boy a piece of bread and a glass of water. That’s all the food you’ve earned today boy go find yourself a bed in the barn.”
“Fred don’t you think you’re being hard on the boy?” asked Mrs. Smith.
“Hard on the boy? He’s here to help me. I only agreed to have some homeless slum bastard come to my home to help me not to hinder my work. I checked those apples. He put in apples that had you know what that could do to my sales? The boy goes back tomorrow.”
“But Fred the boy lived in the city he knows nothing of farming you have to teach him.” protested Ava.
“Fine I’ll give him another opportunity but he better not fail me tomorrow.”
Henry wished they had sent him back as the weeks went on and everyday was a new beating. His ribs were sore and bruises were all over his body but each day he got up at sunup and worked until sundown.
A month later Henry was surprised to see Mrs. Smith cooking up a storm.
“Tomorrow the farmers come to help. Mr. Smith thresh the wheat Henry. You be a good boy and listen to Mr. Smith and don’t embarrass him.” Mrs. Smith said as she snuck into the barn and gave him a molasses cookie.
Henry nibbled on the cookie. It tasted wonderful after a month of gruel and breads, all that Mr. Smith would let Mrs. Smith feed him.
The next day went badly the horse got away from him. He forgot how to put the tethers on the horse and Mr. Smith yelled at him. Worst of all Mr. Smith’s farmer friends asked what he was doing with such a scrawny useless child? Henry snuck into the barn to hide as soon as the sun was down and the men were leaving
“Where are you boy? You best come out now.” Mr. Smith ordered.
Henry continued to hide. He knew that tone of voice did not bode well for him. He was frightened and wished he could go home to his mother, brother and sister. Canada was not the land of milk and honey his mother had been promised, for Henry it was hell on earth. He had repeated beatings, little food and no warm place to sleep. It was colder and the barn was cold at night he wished he had a bed to sleep in that was warm like his one in England next to his brother James.
“There you are you little monster. Think you can embarrass me in front of my friends?” Mr. Smith said picking him up by his collar and first shaking then beating him.
Henry only remembered the pain after that point as the punches and kicks had begun. When he woke up still in the straw the next morning, he got a jolt when he realized his arm hung at a strange angle and he couldn’t move it. Henry couldn‘t take the abuse anymore, he would get through today by tonight he would have figured out a way to kill himself. That plan in mind Henry went to start the day.
To be concluded next week

© Sheilagh Lee  February 1,2012


  1. This continuation of the story is heartrending but clearly one that was echoed in many parts of the world over so many years and may even still happen today. This is a powerful personal message you write and I eagerly look forward to future episodes to get him out of this dilemma.

    PS The link on the 3WW site does not work, I had to come in the back door! Perhaps you should post it again?

  2. thank you old egg , I wonder why the link didn't work I'll repost.

  3. This is a really moving serial. Sure you don't want to link up this one? *hopeful smile*

  4. awwww poor Henry, I do hope this has a happy ending. Was his arm broken? If so, how could he work? Mr Smith needs a good slap upside the head himself, hate bullys!

  5. thanks Alice Audrey

    daydreamertoo yes "Henry's" arm was broken.This is based on what happened to my grandfather as my father told me what his father told him. My grandfather had his arm broken by the bully farmer that took him in. I hate bullies too.

  6. This breaks my heart. It is heart wrenching. I hope he escapes and things turn around for him.
    Echoing the sentiments of Oldegg sad but true Im sure this is happening to many as we read and type.

  7. it's terribly sad that this really happened.When my father told me of what happened to his father I was outraged and couldn't understand how anyone could treat a human being this way let alone a child. It is sad that there are always inhuman people like this.

  8. Very bleak and sad. Well written piece.

  9. it was very sad what happened to these children.

  10. I hope you publish this soon, heartbreaking what they had gone through. But I am sure they will have a better life afterwards, their tormentors not so.

  11. I may at some later date put this all together with a lot of family tales.