Janie Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_time_slip) wrote2010-03-30 09:10 am
a_time_slip) wrote2010-03-30 09:10 am
Entry tags:
Strange Fruit
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Her Mama told her time and time again that little girls didn't run around in the woods and climb trees, well she didn't listen to Mama sometimes. Sure it got her whipped most of the time, especially when she scuffed her shoes or tore her dress.
She'd done both of them that day. Sometimes she'd take her brother's overalls and wear them to run around in, but today he was helping Papa and had them on. Almost eight years old, little Janie knew better. But then the sun went down, and her surroundings went from looking like a picture in a book to something very dark and scary, and she knew she was in more trouble. Mama called to her, telling her to get her narrow behind to the house, and right now because she was already in trouble.
Running and running to get to the house, get home before Mama got even more mad, and the woods seemed to get bigger. They got bigger and the trees started to change. Dogs was barking, and it wasn't the old hound that Papa fed scraps to, and Franklin teased, that Mama said had to stay outside. They were mean dogs, growling and sniffing.
Shadows and squid were everywhere, hanging from the trees, a thick liquid dripping down on to her as she ran. Calling for Mama didn't help and the stuff kept coming down on her, almost like rain. Then, there was fire and she saw something that looked like the man Papa was always hunting with. His face was funny and puffy, almost like someone took some clay-mud and shaped it. She ran screaming in the other direction, away from the heat and the fire, but bumped into another tree, another face she knew. It was Papa. Then a catfish, and Mama and Franklin. She couldn't get away.
The dogs were closer, Mama and Papa and Franklin were all hanging together, from the trees, with eyes open in a blank stare. Dripping on her, dripping blood and saltwater that was everywhere. It was on her dress, in her hair, Mama would be real mad- but Mama was hanging there and the dogs were getting closer. Then a jellyfish holding a gun and a rope advanced towards her.
The girl screamed.
Janie woke up screaming, safe in her bed. It was a nightmare fueled by a few faded memories and she reminded herself again and again that there was no danger. Lynn, however, stood at the foot of the bed, looking somewhat out of place and a little confused.
"Go." Janie said, still somewhat shaken up. "Go to Grandpa's."
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Her Mama told her time and time again that little girls didn't run around in the woods and climb trees, well she didn't listen to Mama sometimes. Sure it got her whipped most of the time, especially when she scuffed her shoes or tore her dress.
She'd done both of them that day. Sometimes she'd take her brother's overalls and wear them to run around in, but today he was helping Papa and had them on. Almost eight years old, little Janie knew better. But then the sun went down, and her surroundings went from looking like a picture in a book to something very dark and scary, and she knew she was in more trouble. Mama called to her, telling her to get her narrow behind to the house, and right now because she was already in trouble.
Running and running to get to the house, get home before Mama got even more mad, and the woods seemed to get bigger. They got bigger and the trees started to change. Dogs was barking, and it wasn't the old hound that Papa fed scraps to, and Franklin teased, that Mama said had to stay outside. They were mean dogs, growling and sniffing.
Shadows and squid were everywhere, hanging from the trees, a thick liquid dripping down on to her as she ran. Calling for Mama didn't help and the stuff kept coming down on her, almost like rain. Then, there was fire and she saw something that looked like the man Papa was always hunting with. His face was funny and puffy, almost like someone took some clay-mud and shaped it. She ran screaming in the other direction, away from the heat and the fire, but bumped into another tree, another face she knew. It was Papa. Then a catfish, and Mama and Franklin. She couldn't get away.
The dogs were closer, Mama and Papa and Franklin were all hanging together, from the trees, with eyes open in a blank stare. Dripping on her, dripping blood and saltwater that was everywhere. It was on her dress, in her hair, Mama would be real mad- but Mama was hanging there and the dogs were getting closer. Then a jellyfish holding a gun and a rope advanced towards her.
The girl screamed.
Janie woke up screaming, safe in her bed. It was a nightmare fueled by a few faded memories and she reminded herself again and again that there was no danger. Lynn, however, stood at the foot of the bed, looking somewhat out of place and a little confused.
"Go." Janie said, still somewhat shaken up. "Go to Grandpa's."