A Review Of Clemmy Sue's Narrative: A Weekend At The Beach

When a young author from New York City decides to take a trip to the southern city of Savannah, he finds himself falling in love with the town and ends up renting an apartment. He encounters many different characters, including Danny Hansford and Jim Williams, that gives the reader a good look into the aura of Savannah. The main conflict in the book occurs when a murder happens in an old mansion located in the town. The book follows the progression of the trial and the outcome following the court’s decision.

Jackson is sitting on the street bench where is in the dark corn. It is raining, and the wind is never weary. At every gust the dead leaves are falling. The day is dark and dreary. There are only a few streetlights on the street. Almost all the people are willing to go home. Jackson is quietly watching them running in the rain and his clothes rain water and wet, completely affixed to the emaciated body.

Ms. Grierson lived a lonely life, not having a relationship with any of her kinfolk. After the passing of her father, locals hadn’t seen much of her until she met a construction worker from New York City on a work assignment in Mississippi by the name of Homer Barron. During their one year courtship they would ride through the town on Sundays. It was suspected

It was a cloudy day, a mild 78 degrees and Lezley McSpadden was taking a drag of her cigarette outside of the local grocery store where she was employed. She was midway through her shift when a friend of hers called and said that someone had been shot by Canfield Green Apartments. Maybe it’s only a mother’s instinct to recoil in fear, but in that moment Lezley could think only of her son Michael. Michael had recently graduated three months before and she wasn’t sure of his

As the family is driving along, the grandmother awakens from a nap and recalls “an old plantation that she had visited in this neighborhood once when she was a young lady” (189). This recollection happens while the family is driving through the town of Toomsboro, GA. The grandmother is extremely manipulative and selfish and coaxes the family into visiting the old plantation by lying to them with the possibility of finding hidden treasure. The name of the town is only a slight indication of the terrible tragedy that is yet to come. It is no

When the road is clear, Alyssa jogs across. Her clothes are already damp enough that she doesn't care if they get any more wet. The front of the building that looms before her is made of an ominous brick and ivy combination, the creeping plant winding its way through the metal bars over blacked out windows. A peeling sign printed in red says: USE SIDE ENTRANCE PLEASE. A look up at the dilapidated building shows the swirling storm clouds above. Alyssa decides to accept the fortune that has come her way, just this once.

Later that evening, Nell Guthrie sat on the town dock with her beau, Asa Davis. A rain cloud had passed over and drenched Beaufort while Nell was eating supper with her mother and father, but now the western sky was streaked with a sunset of orange, fuchsia and hints of chartreuse. The cloudburst washed the movement out of the air, leaving behind a humid tranquility. Leaning toward her, Asa nuzzled his paramour’s ear, making her tremble. “Where you been hidin’ out, lover? Has your daddy been working you hard?”

In the rural southern town of Wrongberight, one of its sixty-four residents, vivacious Clemmie Sue Jarvis, who stands 4 feet 3, and looks as if she weighs less than a hummingbird, turned fifty-nine last week. The townsfolk say she has less sense than the blessed Lord gave Johnny Homer’s jackass. In fact, this dent in her personality brightens up a dull day in Wrongberight. Today as the townsfolk were entering the Waylost Baptist Church for Sunday morning service they heard what transpired on Saturday night and instantly, their wagging tongues began to whisper Clemmie Sue’s name during Preacher Johnathan’s sermon.

Two minutes. All views simply fading from her mind into thin oblivion as her eyes focus on the rich soil path leading to the train station, always crowded by ghosts with no conscience; however, now the ghosts are transparent as no one is present. Walking towards the isolated tree, Adriana stands in perplexment as to why her true love is absent. A moist drop lands on her cheek, as a metallic smell arises opposite of water from rain. Her hand leads up to wipe the liquid, as a sharp intake of breath is audible when wide emerald eyes meet a blush red rather than clarity- A sharp hum fills her mind, starting gradual but heightening in sound, piercing ferociously through her ears, and numbing her mind. Her airway blocks as if someone has sharply dug their hand down to her soul, and latched onto her heart. Adriana’s chest heaves up and down rapidly, struggling to allow the once sweet air within. Hesitance clouds her conscience, as her eyes hesitantly trail to see the source of the bloody rain that falls from the sky. His round nose, his dusky complexion, frilly careless hair, black pants that cling to strong legs, and a white stained shirt that fills with winds that once were familiar. Her thoughts only stray to denial and nothing

Clemmy Sue Jarvis since birth has lived in the rural southern town, of Wrongberight. One lesson she has learned from her many years of living there is that after four days of intense rainstorms, the roadways without doubt, will transform into a never-ending, slip and slide. Nonetheless, late Saturday afternoon, on the third Saturday in June, she has no choice other than to lift her petite frame into the cab of her rusty Ford pickup and let the hand of fate decide her destiny. She would not be facing a conundrum like this if she had not spent all week plotting her clever ruse for this evening. Instead, she would be sitting in front of the fireplace eating cabbage and cornmeal dumplings and not heading south on Flat Bottom Road along the

Late Saturday afternoon, Clemmie Sue an elderly vivacious pig farmer sits on her front porch swing savoring the earthy aroma emanating from the farmer’s fields and woodlands after four days of intermittent summer rainstorms. In one hand, she holds a can of mosquitoes repellent and with the other fans herself with a folded newspaper. As she sat that talking to her plants, she happens to glance to the east and observed enormous thunderclouds slowly approaching Wrongberight.

Estelle Louise holds tight to Clemmie Sue as she tells her how she had to fight the storm and four feet of thick muddy water to reach the mailbox. She went on to explain how she lost her balance when she stooped to look inside it and did a face plant into the muck. For quite some time, she struggled to right herself. Afterwards, she just sat in the muck wiping the mud from her face, that’s when she saw the headlights of semi heading straight at her. With no place to go, fell backwards into the mud, held her breath, and prayed. When she finally sits upright, she sees Clemmie Sue driving away. By the time she climbs out of the muck she notices dancing flames around her home and hears Clemmie Sue’s chilling cries. She told her that she ran faster than she has ever run in her life, in order to reassure Clemmie everything is all

“Please, Mr. Henderson.” Melissa tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders despite the glow of coals from the stove inside the small brick office. Half past nine o’clock and the sun had yet to break through the morning clouds. With rain threatening, along with its tendency to turn the roads into quagmires deep enough to swallow a horse or two, she needed to persuade the banker soon.

Two months later on a dark stormy day Clarisse is returning home with her children from Biloxi. Her carriage pulls up in front of the house hurrying to get the children inside before the rain commences, she realizes her husband is not home. After getting the children settled Clarisse find a letter that her husband had left on the kitchen table for her. The letter said “My love Clarisse I apologize for not being home upon you and the children’s arrival, I had to take care of some business in town. I shall be home before dinner my love.” The rain had started pouring down clashing against the house. The wind had picked up causing the door to slam open and bringing in a letter that had been placed on the porch. Clarisse hurries to close the door

It was a dark and cloudy afternoon when Dr. Everett Rameses stepped from the passenger car of a long distance locomotive. He sighed, adjusting his disheveled traveling suit. It had been about a day and a half of transit, and his legs were shaky as they made contact with the rickety boards below him. One of his feet had even managed to fall asleep, and he shook it annoyedly as he stepped away from the train. He was the only passenger for this stop, not an especially shocking revelation since the other passengers had stepped off to their respective destinations a long time ago. Everett scanned his new surroundings. A static summer breeze blew dryly across the abandoned station The swirling, black clouds above him threatened a thunderstorm. The sun was lost in the rain-heavy clouds like a ship lost in a monsoon at sea. It looked almost night, although his watch read about two in the afternoon. Just beyond the station he was standing in was a small, tired looking main street that he had been told was typical of this part of Mississippi. He could practically see the fireflies and mosquitos that the nearby river surely attracted dancing in the streets. The station itself, while it must have originally been an impressive structure, was in dire need of some renovation. Each step that Everett took was accompanied by a high-pitched shriek. He winced. Vicksburg was surely a long way from New York City... The entire place felt so uncomfortable to him, so stagnated. Though he reasoned