Dale Woods

A Candybar in Cave Springs

Dale WoodsMarch 14, 2019

In the spring of my freshman year at Ozark Academy the school held its annual school picnic not at a park or a lake or someplace new to us but on campus.  I decided to use that day to do something I’d never done before: see how far I could walk in one day.

So in the morning I took off out of the dorm, crossed the Flint Creek bridge and walked north to Sleepy Hollow Road.  I walked east past the Sleepy Hollow Store on the highway and all the way to Cave Springs.  It was sixteen miles one way.  There was nothing special about Cave Springs as a destination; it wasn’t much of a town at that time, it was just a place to walk to and then turn around and come back, which is what I did.

To illustrate how lacking in imagination I was at that time, I got to Cave Springs, went inside a crummy little Laundromat, sat down and ate a candy bar, and then went out and started walking back to campus.  I didn’t walk the whole way back. I had shin splints from overexerting myself and I was sort of limping a bit.  I accepted a ride from a guy in a pickup, I think, and he took me as far as the Sleepy Hollow Store.  I limped back to campus just in time to miss the last meal of the day.  One day I will figure out a point to this story and then I will write more about it.

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One Comment

  1. Skip Joers says:
    March 15, 2019 at 3:48 pm

    The point of the story is– hormones coursing through the body of a person that age causes them to do goofy things that have no point.

    Reply

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Grommet Hunter

My debut novel, Grommet Hunter, is a work of adult contemporary fiction, and is complete at 108,000 words.  I am currently seeking representation.

Dale Woods

A quote from Grommet Hunter:

There is something joyful and satisfying about ramming and ramming the square tip of a three-foot crowbar under the edge of something that needs to go away, and shoving on the crowbar, separating the old thing from the wall, grabbing with your gloved hand at the gap you’ve just created and dropping the crowbar, damn the clanging noise it makes when it hits the floor.  Then both gloved hands are on it and the thing you’re tearing out is shrieking and groaning but you have no pity and it hits the floor with a crash of defeat and what you have before you is a blank slate of a wall that could stand some patching.  And you will patch it of course you will.  But something new will go there.  Something that matches your creative vision.  That’s why I was there.  The shattered cabinets made a wretched pile in the back yard.  Like something a tornado might have dropped there.

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