Life in the Lowcountry

Short Story

The very first time their worlds collided was a typically Southern and small town way of meeting. Families knew each other, kids were “of a certain age” where they might not have met at the pre-school level but they were sure to find each other at “SENIOR HIGH.”

There were some in Marching Band together – Sissy played clarinet and Lesley played the flute. Some were in the “in-but-on the-fringe-crowd,” Tim loved art and drove a Murano; Stephan was a “good ‘ole boy” who loved NASCAR but was really a metal-head; Chuck and Bill were the mysterious boys who loved their cars and loved their metal but didn’t know quite how to handle their home-grown knowledge of: hard work=success vs. the citified notions of: brains + know-how = success. How would we deal with them? It’s a question that we were all afraid to ask.

Small Southern towns are not a place to be feared, but having grown up in one I find I look upon my time there as not only scary but at the same time, safe. It’s sadly not that uncommon for one to look upon their home as “unsafe”, “scary”, “unstable”. My life was the polar opposite. I have so many fond memories of HOME. My hometown is a source of pride for me. We did so much with the band, the High School, the parades, the Girl Scouts, the Boy Scouts, our talents. We weren’t a community of Stepford Wives, but for God’s Sake, We Came Close.

<this is a start, not finished. I just wanted to publish something for my singular audience. Thanks for reading, Tom!> I’ll post more as I develop this story. Oh, and I’ll try and figure out the POV. It’s hovering between personal (main character telling the story) and omnipotent. I think the personal slant will work best for me.


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