This is my response to Charli’s Carrot Ranch Challenge. 99 words about human need.
However, I’m reblogging this in the hopes that you’ll please read Charli’s letter. I don’t understand how this can be happening in the land of the free, especially since its brave should have homes.
Written by Kerry E.B. Black
With her father’s harsh words, she slipped further into the private domicile she constructed within herself. She shored up the wall with bitter mortar wetted by unshed tears.
She stepped onto the playground with jacks and a ball, hoping to lure companions, instead they lost the jacks and stole the ball. Trust dashed with abandonment, and she added height to her inner fortress.
She spoke in parallels to her mother, her last refuge, but the woman misunderstood the message imparted by her child. Frightened of the emotionless girl, the mother failed to see the agony peeping through drying battlements.
Local lore claims they used to call the “girls of morning,” snakes. These are the women who sexually serviced the miners and loggers when the Silver Valley bustled with economic prosperity; when logs choked the broad Coeur D’Alene River and hard-rock miners extracted silver by the ton.
The prevalence of prostitutes in old west mining towns would suggest the service was a necessity.
Enaville, Idaho is no longer a town proper. It lacks a post office and no longer sees to the needs of loggers and miners. By 1954 the town’s old 1880s inn built of local timbers transitioned from a worker’s hotel to a sportsman’s bar and café. It is said that the new owners discovered a light switch upstairs to illuminate two bulbs in the skull of a bull mounted among elk and moose antlers outside in the apex of the building.
Red lights. The western invitation to…
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