Dirt by SL Dwyer

[sldwyer]

A hot, angry wind blew across the ravaged land, scorching layer upon layer of once fertile earth. Obliterating man, beast, and vegetation from what they once were and what they could have been. Undulating oceans of gritty land resembled a foreign landscape, bleak and desolate, constantly changing. Homes became skeletal remains, framed by twisted fencing and gnarled trees.
Miles upon miles, the land had been abandoned to the ever present winds and swirling dirt. Sad remnants of dwellings stood sentry, waiting for a time when the land would lose its hostility and men and their families could return. So became the picture of the southern plains during the great dust bowl. Families struggled for the merest survival amidst a wasted environment.
In Texas County of Oklahoma, the Larkin farm fared no better than the rest of the rural homesteads. The ragged wood framed house, sandblasted and weathered, creaked and whistled in tune to the unforgiving wind. In the tiny, bare kitchen, bathed in the golden light of an oil lamp, Becka Larkin stifled another round of tears. Days of talking had turned into hours of crying, although all the crying in the world wouldn’t solve the problem they faced. Her eyes, red and swollen, held the pain only a loving parent could feel, and the defeat of a human being.
“Becka, there has to be another way.” Hank stared into the glow from the lantern, unable to look at the woman who held his heart. His weather beaten hands lay splayed on the table. They had been together since they ran away and were married on her sixteenth birthday, he, barely nineteen. His gut wrenched seeing her pain.
“We’ve tried. And we ain’t got no more answers,” she said. “We ain’t got enough money for food. No money for gas to get to California. And even if we did, what’re we gonna do when we get there?
“I heard there’s jobs out there.”
“You wanna pick fruit and dig ditches?” She pulled the chair out and dropped down on to it. “We’d end up livin’ in one of them squatters camps, doing laundry and washin' dishes in a water ditch. Sleepin' in the truck with all our belongin’s settin' out for any one of them white trash people to steal. We'd be losing the only home we've had.” Becka laid her head in her hands and whispered, “Don’t make no difference anyway. We ain't got no money to get there. Ain't no sense talkin' about it.”
“Somethin' is better then nothin'. What you’re sayin' is crazy.” Hank reached for her small callused hand, took it in his own and squeezed lightly, afraid to hurt the fragile bones poking through paper-thin skin. "You know I’d do anythin' for you, Becka, we can find a doctor who can help ya. I jus’ don’t know this is best for Sammy and Birdie. What’re they gonna do without us? It ain't right. God will hold us accountable.”
“I can be facin’ Gods wrath, but not watchin’ my babies starve while I die,” Becka said, her voice a mere whisper.
Sammy carefully stepped across the wooden stair, the one that creaked. Holding on to the hand railing, he crept down two more stairs to be within earshot of his parents talking. The few words he managed to hear froze him where he crouched. He squatted on the dusty step and pressed his ear between the railings to hear more,the old, splintered wood dug creases into his forehead.
“We can’t give them a proper home now. What’re we gonna do in a month? I can’t sit here watchin' our kids starve.” Becka’s voice rose in anguish. The kitchen chair scraped the wood floor when she stood. Her eyes sadly took in the small room, seeing their meager belongings. The food shelves pathetically empty. When they moved to this house they expected bountiful harvests to fill the now empty rows of shelving. She had dreamed of all the fine fruits and vegetables she would can and put up for the winter months. Now she only dreamed of miracles. Miracles she knew would never come. Miracles blowing through on the hot prairie wind with no chance of stopping for someone to claim as their own.
"We don't want to be wakin' the youngin's, Becka. Maybe we should talk outside," Hank said. He felt the hopelessness in her eyes, the despair in the way her shoulders hunched against the pain of loss. Two long steps crossed the small room and he took her in his arms, caressed her once shiny, glorious auburn hair, now dull and dirty. “Oh my poor Becka. This ain't the life we dreamt about. The life I promised you if'n you’d run away with me. I’m so sorry.” He brushed her hair with his lips.
She wrapped her arms around his skinny frame, her heart breaking at the loss of weight their troubles had caused. The young boy she had fallen in love with had become a ghost of his past self. In her heart she knew how hard he had tried to provide the life they dreamed of. Then one day, all their hard work was destroyed by an unforgiving force of nature. The heat, the wind, and the death of their life’s work took such a massive toll on their hearts and her health, the ability to overcome all the adversity became lost in their daily struggle.
“The State will take care of the children. I have to believe that,” she whispered. “It’s a small price to pay to make sure they survive.”
“Couldn’t we ask the State to take them in, just for a while? Till we get on our feet. We could get them back when things are better,” He asked.
“I done talked to Louise. She tried ‘fore they left to go west. The State don’t take no kids if the parents are able bodied to work. They ain't got no more room.” Becka pulled away. She looked back across the room, seeing her footprints in the dust, she said, “I just swept these floors this afternoon.” Her voice flat, emotionless.
Dust lay everywhere in their small home; no matter how many sheets were hung across the windows, or rag rugs placed in front of the doors, it found a way in through the smallest of cracks. It clung to their hair, noses, and faces. Settled into the wrinkles of their clothes and filled their shoes. They slept under wet sheets to keep the invading dust out of their beds.
Hank tilted his wife’s head up with a finger. “Tonight?” he asked.
Tears in her eyes, unable to answer, Becka nodded.
Sammy couldn't listen any longer. The snatches of conversation he overheard became too much. He stood and raced up the stairs, forgetting the one that creaked, flew around the corner and jumped in his bed. He pulled the thin wet sheet over his head and fought not to cry. All he could think of was his parents were giving his sister and him away. His mother and father were leaving them.

[Emily J]

[quote="sldwyer"]A hot, angry wind blew across the ravaged land, scorching layer upon layer of once fertile earth. Obliterating man, beast, and vegetation from what they once were and what they could have been. <-- this is a sentence fragment, (not that we arent allowed to break the rules on occasion) not sure it works stylistically for me though if you combine it the first sentence will be overstuffed Undulating oceans of gritty land resembled a foreign landscape, bleak and desolate, constantly changing. Homes became skeletal remains, framed by twisted fencing and gnarled trees.

Miles upon miles, this feels like a comma splice to me, perhaps "For miles upon miles the land ..."?? just a suggestion the land had been abandoned to the ever present ever-present? winds and swirling dirt. Sad remnants of dwellings stood sentry, waiting for a time when the land would lose its hostility and men and their families could return. So became <-- this feels a bit stilted to me and with "the picture" it seems to be taking a step back from the earlier immediacy of the prose, which I for one preferred the picture of the southern plains during the great dust bowl. Families struggled for the merest survival amidst a wasted environment.

In Texas County of Oklahoma, <-- this doesn't sound right to me, comma after Texas? or Texan instead maybe? the Larkin farm fared no better than the rest of the rural homesteads. The ragged wood framed house, sandblasted and weathered, creaked and whistled in tune to the unforgiving wind. <-- excellent sentence In the tiny, bare kitchen, bathed in the golden light of an oil lamp, <-- you do seem to have an overreliance upon multiple dependent clauses in your sentences, maybe throw in a few simpler sentences for variety? Becka Larkin stifled another round of tears. Days of talking had turned into hours of crying, although all the crying in the world wouldn’t solve the problem they faced. Her eyes, red and swollen, <-- again multiple clauses held the pain only a loving parent could feel, and the defeat of a human being.

“Becka, there has to be another way.” Hank stared into the glow from the lantern, unable to look at the woman who held his heart. <-- "who held his heart" feels like telling, I think that you can get across this without overtly telling us but rather showing, how he holds her hand etc. etc. His weather beaten hands lay splayed on the table. this feels like a shift in the paragraph, a new paragraph maybe? --> They had been together since they ran away and were married on her sixteenth birthday, this definitely feels like a runon sentence semi-colon then a complete sentence maybe? he, barely nineteen. another shift in the paragraph --> His gut wrenched seeing her pain.

“We’ve tried. And we ain’t got no more answers,” she said. “We ain’t got enough money for food. No money for gas to get to California. And even if we did, what’re we gonna do when we get there?

“I heard there’s jobs out there.”

“You wanna pick fruit and dig ditches?” She pulled the chair out and dropped down on to it. “We’d end up livin’ in one of them squatters camps, doing laundry and washin' dishes in a water ditch. Sleepin' in the truck with all our belongin’s settin' out for any one of them white trash people to steal. We'd be losing the only home we've had.” Becka laid her head in her hands and whispered, “Don’t make no difference anyway. We ain't got no money to get there. Ain't no sense talkin' about it.”

“Somethin' is better then nothin'. What you’re sayin' is crazy.” Hank reached for her small callused hand, took it in his own and squeezed lightly, afraid to hurt the fragile bones poking through paper-thin skin. <-- i get what you are going for, but wording it this way makes me think she has a open fracture, unless she does but in that case he probably shouldn't be squeezing her hand at all... ouch "You know I’d do anythin' for you, Becka, we can find a doctor who can help ya. I jus’ don’t know even in this dialect it feels like there is a word missing here this is best for Sammy and Birdie. What’re they gonna do without us? It ain't right. God will hold us accountable.”

“I can be facin’ Gods wrath, but not watchin’ my babies starve while I die,” Becka said, her voice a mere whisper.
i feel like there should be some preface to switching to Sammy, i found it slightly confusing Sammy carefully stepped across the wooden stair, the one that creaked. Holding on to the hand railing, he crept down two more stairs to be within earshot of his parents talking. The few words he managed to hear froze him where he crouched. He squatted on the dusty step and pressed his ear between the railings to hear more, this is a comma splice the old, splintered wood dug creases not sure the wording here works for, wood dug? creases into his forehead? into his forehead.

“We can’t give them a proper home now. What’re we gonna do in a month? I can’t sit here watchin' our kids starve.” Becka’s voice rose in anguish. anguish is again telling rather than showing her emotions, showing would be if her voice breaks, etc The kitchen chair scraped the wood floor when she stood. Her eyes sadly again sadly as an adverb is telling rather than showing, you can leave it out and focus on her looking at how few things they have and let the reader infer the emotion took in the small room, seeing their meager belongings. The food shelves pathetically pathetically is another adverb that I don't think is necessary empty. When they moved to this house they expected bountiful harvests to fill the now empty rows of shelving. She had dreamed of all the fine fruits and vegetables more specificity would help the believability, what do they grow (or had hoped to grow) on this farm? what kinds of fruits & veggies? she would can and put up for the winter months. Now she only dreamed of miracles. Miracles she knew would never come. Miracles not sure the repetition of miracles is working for me blowing through on the hot prairie wind with no chance of stopping for someone to claim as their own. <-- this sentence really didn't work for me, the imagery was a but confusing, miracles that would never come blow by on the wind but don't stop for someone to claim? its a bit convoluted

Sorry thats all I had time to edit. I will try and finish up the second portion.

Quick formatting note, putting spaces between the paragraphs makes it easier to read.

[sldwyer]

Wow, many thanks for all the notes. I agree with many of them. I have decided to take a break from picking at it and let some one else take a stab.

As far as Texas county. There is a county in Oklahoma called Texas County, which is the area the story takes place.

Her hand is not broken, just very thin. I suppose I should make that clearer.

I l ook forward to your next post.

[Emily J]

"We don't want to be wakin' the youngin's, Becka. Maybe we should talk outside," Hank said. He felt maybe saw instead of felt? because he cant literally or figuratively "feel" her hopelessness the hopelessness in her eyes, the despair in the way her shoulders hunched against the pain of loss. the shoulders hunched thing is good, but you add on another abstract, what loss exactly? wealth? livelihood? did she lose a child? Two long steps crossed the small room and he took her in his arms, <-- needs to be rephrased, "two long steps" did not cross the room, HE did caressed her once shiny, glorious auburn hair, now dull and dirty. <-- adjective overload here I think “Oh my poor Becka. This ain't the life we dreamt about. The life I promised you if'n you’d run away with me. I’m so sorry.” He brushed her hair with his lips.

She wrapped her arms around his skinny frame, her heart breaking at the loss you used the word loss in the previous paragraph of weight their troubles had caused. The young boy she had fallen in love with had become a ghost of his past self. In her heart she knew how hard he had tried to provide the life they dreamed of. <-- maybe "the life they had dreamt of" Then one day, all their hard work was destroyed by an unforgiving force of nature. <-- you have already shown us this The heat, the wind, and the death of their life’s work took such a massive toll on their hearts and her health, the ability to overcome all the adversity became lost in their daily struggle. <-- feels like too much telling, don't underestimate the reader, I think all this has already come across, instead maybe just focus on his clothes hang on him etc etc and let us infer the details

“The State will take care of the children. I have to believe that,” she whispered. “It’s a small price to pay to make sure they survive.”

“Couldn’t we ask the State to take them in, just for a while? Till we get on our feet. We could get them back when things are better,” He asked. a bit confused by this dialogue concerning the State, she says the State will take care of the children, then he says cant the state take care of them, then she says no? am I missing something here?

“I done talked to Louise. She tried ‘fore they left to go west. The State don’t take no kids if the parents are able bodied to work. They ain't got no more room.” Becka pulled away. She looked back across the room, seeing her footprints in the dust, she said, “I just swept these floors this afternoon.” Her voice flat, emotionless. <-- this is a great detail, I think the hopelessness of the situation is more eloquently expressed here than anywhere else

Dust lay everywhere in their small home; no matter how many sheets were hung across the windows, or rag rugs placed in front of the doors, it found a way in through the smallest of cracks. It clung to their hair, noses, and faces. Settled into the wrinkles of their clothes and filled their shoes. They slept under wet sheets to keep the invading dust out of their beds. nice, does it change the color of their clothes? does it get in their food? that must be awful, chewing dirt is very grating on your teeth!

Hank tilted his wife’s head up with a finger. “Tonight?” he asked.

Tears in her eyes, unable to answer, Becka nodded.

Sammy couldn't listen any longer. The snatches of conversation he overheard became too much. He stood and raced up the stairs, forgetting the one that creaked, flew around the corner and jumped in his bed. He pulled the thin wet sheet over his head and fought not to cry. All he could think of was his parents were giving his sister and him away. His mother and father were leaving them.

The dust bowl was a fascinating time in american history and this has already captured my imagination!

[Emily J]

Wow, many thanks for all the notes. I agree with many of them. I have decided to take a break from picking at it and let some one else take a stab.

As far as Texas county. There is a county in Oklahoma called Texas County, which is the area the story takes place.

Her hand is not broken, just very thin. I suppose I should make that clearer.

I l ook forward to your next post.

Ah my apologies it seems I did not read closely enough with regards to Texas county Oklahoma

[sldwyer]

As before, your comments are well thought and right on. This is the part that frustrates me - editing. It's the forest for the trees thing.

Thank you for the time you spent on this. If you would like I will post the next chapter.

[J. T. SHEA]

Powerful stuff, Sldwyer! Do skip a line between paragraphs, as Emily J. does. That is customary online, since it's often not possible to indent.

'Days of talking had turned into hours of crying,...' A simple but evocative phrase! I look forward to the next chapter.

[sldwyer]

Thank you. I am still new to all this and appreciate the information. I will be posting the next chapter and will make sure I format correctly.

[SSB]

I am not much of an editor, so I will only comment on story. Nice job. Your words paint pictures in my head.

[ninafromnorway]

Fantastically written. I have nothing to comment on =)

[sldwyer]

Thank you. I appreciate you taking time to read my words. Chapter 2 is also posted. Let me know what you think of the first part.

SL