Creative Writing: Estelle Louise's Home

Decent Essays
When they reach Estelle Louise’s driveway, Clemmy Sue eased the Ford into the entrance, and stopped thirty feet from her mailbox.

“I be so sorry my friend, but this here be about as close to that there mailbox as imma gonna gets in this here sassy storm.” “Oh, Clemmy Sue you just sit tight and tomorrow I be buyin’ you a shiny, four wheel, pick up. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me from gettin’ to that there mailbox. You be hearin’ Miss Ta Rot, tonight be my l-u-c-k-y night,” says Estelle Louis as she opens the door and lowers herself to the ground. The moment she closed the door, its makeshift window blocked Clemmy Sue’s view. While Clemmy Sue waited, she slapped her earphones over her ears, turned the CD player to full volume, and boisterously sang along with Dolly Parton. After ten songs, her voice grew weak and she began to wonder why Estelle Louise was not back yet. Without hesitation, she drove to the mailbox to check on her; however, neither her friend
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I gets up, then I be slippin’ when I be stoopin’ to look inside my mailbox and roots my face in four foot of muddy thick water. I struggles for a mighty long time to gets up. I just sits there in the slop, next to the mailbox, facin’ that road and I be tryin’ to wipe that there mud off my face. That be when I sees them there headlights barrelin’ down on me. I gots no place to hide so I be fallin’ backwards in that there mud. I be holdin’ my breath and I be prayin’ mighty hard for one of them there miracles. I reckon he be hearin’ me cause, I sits up and starts breathin’ again. When I gets that there mud off my face, I sees you drivin’ away. After I wades out of that there mud hole I sees flames gobblin’ up my home and then I be seeing that there truck of yours parked in the middle of my flower garden. Well, by the time I gets here I be finding you sleeping in the
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