Dark as Coal, Part One

Mary Jones stood at the sink washing up a mess of potatoes for supper. Her husband Walter was a coal-miner, and his favorite meal was any kind of fried meat (chicken, beef, pork…he didn’t care!) and fried taters. So, being the good wife that she was, Mary always made sure that there were fried taters on the table. At breakfast, they had fried eggs, bacon, and fried taters. For lunch, she sent him along with a few cans of potted meat, crackers, a Twinkie…and a small dish of leftover fried taters. And for supper each night, she made even more fried taters.

Truth be told, Mary was quite sick of fried taters. Sometimes just the smell of them frying made her want to puke her guts out. But, she was raised to please her husband. And so…she made fried taters. Day in and day out. Sometimes she even dreamed that she was frying up a mess of taters.

Mary sighed. It was a good little life that she and Walter had made for themselves here in the hills of Breathitt County, Kentucky. She had been a high-school dropout and without an education, she hadn’t had much hope for a comfortable future. But then she had seen Walter at Save-a-Lot one day while shopping for pickled bologna. Walter had finished high school and had a good job as a coal miner. He wasn’t much to look at. His nose was sort of long and crooked and he was missing a few teeth. He also had knobby legs. He came out of the mines each day just as black as you please. And he sort of smelled.

But he was good to her. And he had a decent job. And she was the only one of her family who wasn’t on food stamps or welfare…so she guessed that she was doing pretty well in life. She and Walter had a real nice double wide trailer on land that they had bought and paid for. Their well had good water, and they had two dozen chickens in the back yard that gave them plenty of eggs to eat. They raised a little garden in the summer, and Mary had gotten quite good at canning beans, tomato juice, and pickled corn. The pickled corn went along real good with pickled bologna…and fried taters. She smacked her lips and knew that she was going to cook that for supper tonight. Walter wouldn’t care….he only cared for taters.

Happy with her lot in life, Mary began to hum a few tunes of “Jesus Loves Me.” She hadn’t been to church in a long time, and she felt a little guilty about not keepin’ up with the Lord. But she had gone to so much church when she was a little girl that she felt that she was due a little break. Walter didn’t believe in churches. But he was a God-fearin’ man. He prayed a lot at home…when he wasn’t drinkin’. Not that he was drunk. He just liked to cut wild sometimes. Mary didn’t care as long as Walter kept workin’ and bringing home that paycheck. She could put up with a little drinkin’. She could put up with a lot of things.

Bending down to get a pan out for the pickled corn, she suddenly felt like she wasn’t alone. It was weird because she and Walter were the only ones who lived in their little double-wide. They hadn’t had any kids yet. Truth be told, Mary wasn’t too sure that she even wanted kids. All of her sisters and brothers had kids…tons of them. And kids meant one thing….spending money. Money was hard to come by, and Mary didn’t want to be spending any of her money on a bunch of snot-nosed kids.

But the feeling persisted. Someone was standing behind her! With a startled screech, she jumped up and twirled around, brandishing the pot in her hand like a club. There was nobody behind her. Besides her, the kitchen was empty.

Laughing to herself, she turned back to her stove.

“Silly woman,” she whispered to herself, opening up a nice, fat jar of pickled corn, “Givin’ yourself the willies. What are ya? A little girl?”

It just so happened that at that exact moment something moving caught the corner of her eye. Without moving her head, she raised her eyes and looked in the mirror that hung on the wall behind her stove.

Walter was standing behind her…staring at her with eyes wide with fright. His face was black, making his eyes appear even whiter and wider than ever. His mouth was open like he was screaming…but no words were coming out of his mouth. And he was reaching out toward her…his hands clutching for her.

With a true scream this time, Mary twirled around. Had Walter gone crazy? Why was he home so early?

Nobody was behind her. Nobody at all. The kitchen was empty.

Just then the phone rang, making her screech out again. Her hands shaking nervously, she fumbled for the receiver. At first she was so nervous that she had the dumb thing upside down. She finally figured out what was wrong and turned it back around.

“Mary?” a tiny voice called out over the phone, “Mary? This is Jenny Smith…from down the road. Oh God Mary…you’ve gotta’ come quick. There’s been an accident….at the mine.”

Mary’s legs felt weak…and she slowly slid to the floor. The voice at the other end of the phone…Jenny Smith….kept going.

“Mary? Are you there?” it insisted in its hysterical tone, “There’s been a cave-in at the mine. There’s a bunch of ‘em trapped down there. My Bill…and your Walter. They’re trapped! Trapped!”

Suddenly it was hard to breath. Mary kept thinking about what she had just seen in her kitchen.

“Mary?” Jenny kept going, “You’ve got to come. They might all be dead!”

Until next week….class dismissed.