Dear Editor,
It was near the middle of December when
the incredible happened. Oh my: After the venison had been processed, ground in
the old fashioned hand grinder, raisins and spices added, mother would feed the
wood stove till the oven gauge hovered around 450 degrees, while mother rolled
out the pastry and filled the deep dish pie plates with brother John’s trophy
deer meat. When we came in from chores the room was full of spicy aroma’s that
would please a king! The following lines relate to the tale that I experienced
after eating mother’s creation.
I stood upon the coping of the tallest
building known. I tried to walk that dangerous ledge, barefooted and all alone.
I started very bravely, then I turned to look behind and saw a demon coming of
the most ferocious kind: He bade me get a move on, and I started in a run and
slipped and lost my balance, and I knew that I was done.
I had a wild encounter with a mad and
awful beast, his eyes were bulged with malice, for he’d picked me for a feast.
I tried to scream, but couldn’t. He growled in a fearful note, and gave one
spring towards me and his fangs sank in my throat. One gulp and it was over. It
was too black to see, but I knew beyond all question that the end had come for
me. I tumbled from an airplane and looped and looped around and was 27 minutes
on my journey to the ground. I bumped a dozen steeples on my perilous descent
and left as many flagstaffs either snapped in two or bent.
But when I woke in terror, I discovered
with a sigh how much of real excitement lurks in Mother’s “hot mince pie”!
Fred Collins
Westbrook
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