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n3m3sis43Life here in Buffalo Creek was different before the flood. We were family, all of us.
Everyone looked out for everyone else, and no one was ever alone. All the families had the same little four-room houses, with one bedroom for the parents and another for the kids. Everyone got all they needed at the company store and no one was better than anyone else. Our doors were always wide open. You could pop by your neighbor's house any time you needed to borrow something or just wanted to chat. People were cheerful and always had time to talk.
We kids all played together, laughing and running through the grass. There were blue skies and sun and shade trees. If we got tired, there was always a pitcher of ice cold lemonade and a plate of cookies waiting for us in someone's kitchen. We came home dirty and sweaty and late for dinner more times than not. Our mommas might scold us, but no one ever stayed mad for long.
The mommas all looked after each other's kids without a second thought. Whenever a new baby was born in Buffalo Creek, all the women and girls came around to rub the new momma's feet or make her a cup of tea. There were always more than enough pairs of arms to love on that little one while its momma got a bit of sleep. The daddies all worked in the coal mines. Mining was dangerous and everyone knew it, but no one thought of doing anything else. It was good money. When someone did get hurt, everyone else pitched in to make sure his family was taken care of.
That was the best part. No matter the burden, you never had to bear it alone. If you were sick, someone would appear like magic with a steaming pot of soup. If you were sad, people would come by to comfort you. You never even had to ask - people just knew what it was you needed and were always eager to provide it. Hardly anyone ever moved away. Why would they want to when they had everything they needed right here?
That all changed the day the black waters came crashing down, twenty feet high or more.
Momma and I barely made it to the hills in time; Daddy wasn't so lucky. We clutched each other tight as we watched the flood take out a church, carrying cars and houses right along with it. Some of the houses still had people in them - you could see them at the windows. All around us, people were running and screaming and weeping. Some were praying to the Lord Our Savior and others were just standing there in shock. Momma and I watched as everything we had ever loved washed away in a swoosh of dirty water.
I've had nightmares ever since - choking, strangling dreams of being mired in thick black gunk. No matter how hard I struggle, I can never get my head above the surface. When I wake, I'm shuddering and gasping for breath. It feels like I'm screaming but no sound comes out.
Maybe the others are plagued by these dreams, too. I'll never know, because people here in Buffalo Creek don't talk like they used to. They don't look out for each other, either. After the flood, it was like people just stopped caring for each other. Cheery smiles were traded for dazed, unfocused expressions and slack jaws.
A lot of people left, but Momma and I stayed because we'd never known any other home. I was hoping that things would get back to normal sooner or later, but they never did. Trailer parks were built for the people who'd lost their homes and after a while, new people moved into some of them. It was strange not knowing all my neighbors anymore; even the people I grew up with seemed like strangers now.
The doors of all the houses were closed and locked up tight. When you ran into people along your way, they never seemed to have time to talk anymore. Mommas didn't watch each other's little ones or stop by to chat. They never let their own kids out of their sight, and the kids didn't want to run and play anymore anyway. It was almost like the whole world had ended instead of a dam collapsing. People drank and screamed and fought as if it were the End of Days. Men took each other's wives and beat their own and no one looked out for his neighbor anymore at all.
Momma went to work in the mines. We could have gotten by on the settlement check she got from the coal company, but she couldn't stand to sit there and do nothing, all alone like she'd never been before. I knew how she felt and I started to think about getting out altogether. Before the flood, I never would have thought of leaving. Now it wasn't the place where I'd grown up at all. It was cold and empty and sad and I wanted no part of it.
Though I'd never had any schooling, Momma always told me I was smart as a whip. Some of the girls in Buffalo Creek couldn't read at all, but I taught myself to read the Good Book and the newspapers Daddy brought home from the company store. Here in Buffalo Creek, women only kept house or worked in the mines, but out in the world there was something called Women's Lib. Girls went to college and became teachers and nurses and maybe even lady doctors.
Jameson was one of the engineers who came to town to investigate the dam that broke and caused the flood. With his fancy degree and his sweet smile, he had me under his spell before I knew it. Tall and thin with dark hair and liquid brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, he felt like home. When he held me in his arms, I felt loved and warm and whole like I used to feel all the time before the black water came.
Even though he had lots of schooling and I had none at all, he never treated me like I was stupid. He told me that there were people out in the world who thought that dam wasn't built right and the coal company was responsible. As the weeks went by, he got more and more angry. The dam, he said, would never have held. It was just coal sludge on top of dirt and water with no supports like it should have had.
Buffalo Creek was kind of like that. We thought our community was rock solid, but when the waters came, it all washed away. There was no structure underneath to hold it up.
After Momma went to bed at night, I'd sneak out to the trailer where Jameson stayed. He held me and stroked my hair and talked about taking me with him when he left. I could go to school to be whatever I wanted to be and we'd build a new life together. Out in the world, I wouldn't need my neighbors or the coal mines or the company store. We could have everything we needed, just the two of us.
Then I got real sick. For weeks, I couldn't keep anything down, not even soup or water. In the old days, all the women in town would have fussed over me with cold compresses and home remedies but now not even my own Momma was there to take care of me. Jameson was worried and never left my side. Since our old family doctor had left town for good, I finally went to see the new doctor who'd moved into the trailer camp nearby. When he told me I was pregnant, I nearly fainted from shock.
When I told Jameson, he got real pale and looked like he was going to throw up instead of me. Then he said it would be okay - we'd get married and raise the baby together and I would be a great momma. After I started to feel less sick, he took me into the city and let me try on any dresses I liked. He smiled as I twirled and swirled like a little girl in layers of lace and white.
I told him it was bad luck for him to see me in my dress before our wedding day, but he just laughed. An old wives' tale, he called it. With his soft voice and college words, anything he said felt like God's honest truth.
But as the weeks went on, I started to wonder if I hadn't been right after all. Jameson was pale and even thinner than before; I thought maybe he was sick. He didn't hold me like he used to, and his nose was always in his books and charts. I tried to talk to him about the baby, whether it would be a boy or a girl, whose nose it would have and whose eyes, but he didn't seem to care. His eyes were flat and hard like closed doors. When I asked him what was wrong, he said everything was fine. So I kissed him and pretended that he didn't feel cold and empty just like the town that used to be my home.
Now here I am all fussed up in my pretty dress and veil, and Jameson is nowhere to be found. The wedding time came and went, and the preacher man sent went over to the trailer where he stays. There was no answer at the door; it was unlocked and all his things were gone.
Momma held me while I sobbed. It's the first time she's touched me since the day of the flood. She stroked my hair the way she used to when I was a little girl, the way Jameson used to do. Then she said it would be okay - I don't need a man to go out into the world and make something of myself. I can still go off to school if it's what I want. She'll quit the mine and keep my little one and it'll be like old times; we'll help each other because that's what we do here in Buffalo Creek.
She painted a pretty picture of how we'd make it all right, but then it was time for her shift. So Momma got changed into her mining clothes, lit up a smoke, and went off to work. Now there's just me and my flowers and fancy dress, all alone except for a baby whose daddy is gone.
The original inspiration for this story was the photograph below by James Stanfield.
Additional inspiration for many of the details of this piece came from the real-life story of the Buffalo Creek Disaster, which occurred in 1972. A coal waste impoundment dam burst, sending over a million gallons of sludge-infested waters over the 16 thriving coal mining towns of Buffalo Creek. Many were killed and injured, and even more lost everything they owned. Despite overwhelming evidence that the accident was caused by poor construction and negligence on the part of the coal company that owned the dam, its owners declared the tragedy "an act of God". If you are as fascinated by this story as I have become, you might enjoy this essay that I found here about the survivors of the disaster (link downloads the essay as a .doc file).
This piece was originally written for LJ Idol intersection week. The wonderfully creative![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
everywordiwrite wrote an alternate version of the story behind the photo which can be found here.
Everyone looked out for everyone else, and no one was ever alone. All the families had the same little four-room houses, with one bedroom for the parents and another for the kids. Everyone got all they needed at the company store and no one was better than anyone else. Our doors were always wide open. You could pop by your neighbor's house any time you needed to borrow something or just wanted to chat. People were cheerful and always had time to talk.
We kids all played together, laughing and running through the grass. There were blue skies and sun and shade trees. If we got tired, there was always a pitcher of ice cold lemonade and a plate of cookies waiting for us in someone's kitchen. We came home dirty and sweaty and late for dinner more times than not. Our mommas might scold us, but no one ever stayed mad for long.
The mommas all looked after each other's kids without a second thought. Whenever a new baby was born in Buffalo Creek, all the women and girls came around to rub the new momma's feet or make her a cup of tea. There were always more than enough pairs of arms to love on that little one while its momma got a bit of sleep. The daddies all worked in the coal mines. Mining was dangerous and everyone knew it, but no one thought of doing anything else. It was good money. When someone did get hurt, everyone else pitched in to make sure his family was taken care of.
That was the best part. No matter the burden, you never had to bear it alone. If you were sick, someone would appear like magic with a steaming pot of soup. If you were sad, people would come by to comfort you. You never even had to ask - people just knew what it was you needed and were always eager to provide it. Hardly anyone ever moved away. Why would they want to when they had everything they needed right here?
That all changed the day the black waters came crashing down, twenty feet high or more.
Momma and I barely made it to the hills in time; Daddy wasn't so lucky. We clutched each other tight as we watched the flood take out a church, carrying cars and houses right along with it. Some of the houses still had people in them - you could see them at the windows. All around us, people were running and screaming and weeping. Some were praying to the Lord Our Savior and others were just standing there in shock. Momma and I watched as everything we had ever loved washed away in a swoosh of dirty water.
I've had nightmares ever since - choking, strangling dreams of being mired in thick black gunk. No matter how hard I struggle, I can never get my head above the surface. When I wake, I'm shuddering and gasping for breath. It feels like I'm screaming but no sound comes out.
Maybe the others are plagued by these dreams, too. I'll never know, because people here in Buffalo Creek don't talk like they used to. They don't look out for each other, either. After the flood, it was like people just stopped caring for each other. Cheery smiles were traded for dazed, unfocused expressions and slack jaws.
A lot of people left, but Momma and I stayed because we'd never known any other home. I was hoping that things would get back to normal sooner or later, but they never did. Trailer parks were built for the people who'd lost their homes and after a while, new people moved into some of them. It was strange not knowing all my neighbors anymore; even the people I grew up with seemed like strangers now.
The doors of all the houses were closed and locked up tight. When you ran into people along your way, they never seemed to have time to talk anymore. Mommas didn't watch each other's little ones or stop by to chat. They never let their own kids out of their sight, and the kids didn't want to run and play anymore anyway. It was almost like the whole world had ended instead of a dam collapsing. People drank and screamed and fought as if it were the End of Days. Men took each other's wives and beat their own and no one looked out for his neighbor anymore at all.
Momma went to work in the mines. We could have gotten by on the settlement check she got from the coal company, but she couldn't stand to sit there and do nothing, all alone like she'd never been before. I knew how she felt and I started to think about getting out altogether. Before the flood, I never would have thought of leaving. Now it wasn't the place where I'd grown up at all. It was cold and empty and sad and I wanted no part of it.
Though I'd never had any schooling, Momma always told me I was smart as a whip. Some of the girls in Buffalo Creek couldn't read at all, but I taught myself to read the Good Book and the newspapers Daddy brought home from the company store. Here in Buffalo Creek, women only kept house or worked in the mines, but out in the world there was something called Women's Lib. Girls went to college and became teachers and nurses and maybe even lady doctors.
Jameson was one of the engineers who came to town to investigate the dam that broke and caused the flood. With his fancy degree and his sweet smile, he had me under his spell before I knew it. Tall and thin with dark hair and liquid brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, he felt like home. When he held me in his arms, I felt loved and warm and whole like I used to feel all the time before the black water came.
Even though he had lots of schooling and I had none at all, he never treated me like I was stupid. He told me that there were people out in the world who thought that dam wasn't built right and the coal company was responsible. As the weeks went by, he got more and more angry. The dam, he said, would never have held. It was just coal sludge on top of dirt and water with no supports like it should have had.
Buffalo Creek was kind of like that. We thought our community was rock solid, but when the waters came, it all washed away. There was no structure underneath to hold it up.
After Momma went to bed at night, I'd sneak out to the trailer where Jameson stayed. He held me and stroked my hair and talked about taking me with him when he left. I could go to school to be whatever I wanted to be and we'd build a new life together. Out in the world, I wouldn't need my neighbors or the coal mines or the company store. We could have everything we needed, just the two of us.
Then I got real sick. For weeks, I couldn't keep anything down, not even soup or water. In the old days, all the women in town would have fussed over me with cold compresses and home remedies but now not even my own Momma was there to take care of me. Jameson was worried and never left my side. Since our old family doctor had left town for good, I finally went to see the new doctor who'd moved into the trailer camp nearby. When he told me I was pregnant, I nearly fainted from shock.
When I told Jameson, he got real pale and looked like he was going to throw up instead of me. Then he said it would be okay - we'd get married and raise the baby together and I would be a great momma. After I started to feel less sick, he took me into the city and let me try on any dresses I liked. He smiled as I twirled and swirled like a little girl in layers of lace and white.
I told him it was bad luck for him to see me in my dress before our wedding day, but he just laughed. An old wives' tale, he called it. With his soft voice and college words, anything he said felt like God's honest truth.
But as the weeks went on, I started to wonder if I hadn't been right after all. Jameson was pale and even thinner than before; I thought maybe he was sick. He didn't hold me like he used to, and his nose was always in his books and charts. I tried to talk to him about the baby, whether it would be a boy or a girl, whose nose it would have and whose eyes, but he didn't seem to care. His eyes were flat and hard like closed doors. When I asked him what was wrong, he said everything was fine. So I kissed him and pretended that he didn't feel cold and empty just like the town that used to be my home.
Now here I am all fussed up in my pretty dress and veil, and Jameson is nowhere to be found. The wedding time came and went, and the preacher man sent went over to the trailer where he stays. There was no answer at the door; it was unlocked and all his things were gone.
Momma held me while I sobbed. It's the first time she's touched me since the day of the flood. She stroked my hair the way she used to when I was a little girl, the way Jameson used to do. Then she said it would be okay - I don't need a man to go out into the world and make something of myself. I can still go off to school if it's what I want. She'll quit the mine and keep my little one and it'll be like old times; we'll help each other because that's what we do here in Buffalo Creek.
She painted a pretty picture of how we'd make it all right, but then it was time for her shift. So Momma got changed into her mining clothes, lit up a smoke, and went off to work. Now there's just me and my flowers and fancy dress, all alone except for a baby whose daddy is gone.
Additional inspiration for many of the details of this piece came from the real-life story of the Buffalo Creek Disaster, which occurred in 1972. A coal waste impoundment dam burst, sending over a million gallons of sludge-infested waters over the 16 thriving coal mining towns of Buffalo Creek. Many were killed and injured, and even more lost everything they owned. Despite overwhelming evidence that the accident was caused by poor construction and negligence on the part of the coal company that owned the dam, its owners declared the tragedy "an act of God". If you are as fascinated by this story as I have become, you might enjoy this essay that I found here about the survivors of the disaster (link downloads the essay as a .doc file).
This piece was originally written for LJ Idol intersection week. The wonderfully creative
everywordiwrite wrote an alternate version of the story behind the photo which can be found here.
