THAT IDEA is embedded in this very short story I wrote:
THE LUCKY TICKET
Banks closed and long lines formed to snatch a free loaf of bread in hope of feeding a desperate family!
There was nothing Great about the Great Depression.
________
In a cabin in the Appalachian mountains there lived a family of four.
Plain folk. Ignorant. Proud. Godly.
There were two young children, (a boy 12 and a girl 9) as well as their mom and their father who had recently lost his job at the local sawmill.
The children were afraid they'd starve to death. The subject arose all too often.
It was probably a comment they’d overheard the last time they went into the town last week, a final end-of-season trip before winter closed the roads and passes.
______
"Mommy," the little boy moaned, "are we going to die?"
"No, no, no," his mother reassured him as she forced a broad smile.
"Let me show you two something."
Their mother straightened her posture and strode confidently into the adjacent room.
She took her son's hand and walked the boy and his small, delicate sister over to the pantry. . . and opened the door with a mysterious and grand gesture of importance.
She found a step stool and jigged up . . . stretching with some effort to reach a colorful box on the top shelf of the pantry closet.
A thin strap she grasped at last and the tug revealed a rather bountiful box. Their mother turned around with wide eyes and a beaming smile--as though she were holding a Christmas present.
Her cheerful and excited audience overflowed with anticipation reflected in the brightness of their eyes. She paused for effect, arched an eyebrow teasingly, and tossed her head in a gesture of “Follow me.”
The giggling children scampered behind their mom into the kitchen with the precious cargo ceremoniously lowered atop a Lazy Susan turntable.
The mother’s movements were achingly slow, deliberate, and powerfully evocative.
The lid appeared tightly fitted and held in place with two clasps not unlike a steamer trunk only much smaller.
_____
What could possibly be so wonderful to deserve such a presentation?
Their mother tilted the box and cooed a rather musical squeal of self-delight to punctuate the moment of grandeur.
“Here’s our box of miracles! I won this at Sears and Roebuck catalog store! Out of a hundred folks--I drew the lucky ticket!”
Inside: all manner of brightly colored fruit! Perfect Oranges, dazzling bananas, portentous grapes, gleaming cherries, and pineapple of impossible proportions!
"You see that my little Darlin’s?"
The children nodded silently with wonder brimming in their eyes.
Their parents squinted at the box and at each other.
He shrugged. She pursed her lips and snorted.
“Miracle fruit for cheery kids!”
Their mother searched their faces for any signs of disappointment and found none at all.
"As long as we have this we are never going to starve to death, silly boy.”
The brother and his little sister relaxed and radiated a profound relief. The tension fell away as mischievous covetousness arose.
"Can we have a cherry right now?" Her son’s eyebrows lifted.
"No, sweetheart, this is for later. Much later--only for emergencies. You know, just in case…” She stopped herself short of finishing with “... things get really really bad."
_____
Weeks crawled by and their Daddy hunted the woods for squirrel, rabbit or even less appetizing possibilities such as frogs and lizards. The menu and its variety slacked steadily into a kind of punishment rather than a reward as the children began to lose weight.
Bitter cold surrounded them. Clouds hugged the treetops and very little sunlight shone through the permanent ashy gray of full winter.
The normally spry and fidgety little boy and his vigorous sister soon lost the radiance in their eyes. Day by day they became listless . . . played very little . . gradually turned hollow and pale. An old carrot and half a potato made into soup lit no fire inside.
Their parents listened with hearts breaking to muffled whimpering in their beds at night with their little bellies growling like distant thunder.
Sometimes it was unbearable. Maybe one turnip for four people.
Mother would light a candle and fetch the box from the pantry shelf and place it on their bed in front of the starving children as though she were god’s own angel summoned to answer the prayer for salvation.
"It looks so delicious, Mommy! Please, please....can't we have just a taste of.....one....just one grape?"
But, their mother would sternly shake her head from side to side with great sadness and tell them it was for later. Her face was a mask of profound resolve. She heaved two lingering sighs before the awful phrase.
"When things get really bad." (After all, there was grass and shoe leather left.)
The little ones understood in the marrow of their bones, their Mommy and Daddy really loved them and once again, reassured-- they'd drift off to a peaceful sleep. Their parents held back their sorrow and buried their faces in the pillows to stifle the sobbing of despair.
______
Winter was hard and snowdrift prevented much hunting. All game animals seemed to vanish. Each hour of the day was like the next. Neither day nor night seemed much different from the one before or the one yet to come.
Nights were exhausting and punishing in freezing gales overcast with frequent high winds and flashing bolts of hostile lightning snarling like beasts outside. Every moment conspired to end hope itself. Dreams paused and even the pain of anemic hope ceased all meaning.
_____
Spring had come!
The quick thaw brought a new season as the forest came alive with birdsong and the rustle of rabbits and foxes in tall grass.
Hunters on horseback arrived at the cabin.
The burly men dismounted and unpacked a sled filled with comestibles. The tall man with the red beard knocked the door with his large knuckled fist. Loud. Louder. Again. Once more.
Knowing the people who lived inside, they grew worried.
The anxious trappers leaned hard into it and burst open the door and called out, "Anybody home?"
It was abyss dark inside and there pervaded a terribly offensive smell chilling the hearts of those men.
These were seasoned men accustomed to most hard things in life and yet they stood motionless in a premonition neither was willing to accept.
Gradually, their eyes adjusted to the veil of darkness.
They found them. All dead in their beds.
Holding each other-- the little brother and sister; the Mom and Dad.
Gaunt and wispy they were-- like the limbs of a leafless tree.
The stillness was heartbreaking...impossible to take in or accept. Profoundly cruel and yet not uncommon in these mountains and hard times generally.
On the dinner table a few feet away stood a box.
The men jerked at rags used as curtains, tugging them away from the window glass and the garish beams of light flooded the room with dreadful details to haunt their nightmares ever after.
They crept over to the table and the box--the only color visible in the entire world inside the cabin.
The men opened it not knowing what to expect.
Inside that box was an obscenely cheery and colorful display like you’d sometimes see in the large department stores back East.
A few gnawed pieces of colored fruit.
Four empty spaces.
Tucked in the corner of the lid was the lucky ticket.
They slowly made out words under the lid:
"It looks just like the real thing!"
At the bottom of the card in small letters, it read:
WAX FRUIT Sears and Roebuck.
Caution
Tiny letters in red:
(For Display Only...poisonous)
__________
T.E.Walstrom
