Multi Participation Story: The grim tale of Broke Leg Road.

[Nostalgiascape]

Prologue.

Long ago, round about the middle 50's there was a tale in Missouri about an old road located no where near any town. Believe it or not the name of the road was broke leg road. those Brave or stupid enough to walk down broke leg road described it as full of the worst pot holes and covered overhead by looming trees. However upon seeing the two bedroom gray wooden shack with plastic over broken windows and a rusty tin roof, no one ever investigated. No one ever knocked on the rickety door. Although there is a story, and most folks can't verify the validity of the tale; about three 12 year old boys who did in fact knock on the door of that grim gray house down Broke Leg Road.


(Okay, 50's think like people would have back then. Try to be authentic. Not many serial killers were discovered then, and everyone was a bit naïve regarding safety. Try your best to build a beautifully tragic tale.)

[pasban]

Maybe everyone should plan ahead first before actually making a story since it can go just about any direction, and I realize y'all want to make sure that it doesn't go in any silly directions (unless of course, the thread creator intended it to be a randomness story, at least that would be my understanding of it.)

[jadewik]

Stanley Crawley was a precious young man. Of all his family members and friends, he had the most schooling. His father was a banker, so he didn't have to work the fields like Jimmy Schondal, who was his best friend. The two were always stickin' together like that bit o' honey bar that stuck to Ms. Studebaker, their fifth grade math teacher, when she fell off the hay ride into a crowd of kids at the George Washington Elementary School harvest festival.

Stanley was actually on his way to visit Jimmy one crisp, Saturday, autumn morning. He pulled his gatsby wool cap down a little further to keep his head warm as he quickly walked to the Schondal farm. Jim was already up and shoveling hay when he got there.

"Oy, Stan. Glad you could help out. Got me hands full this mornin'. Cow needs milkin', but I haven't had the chance yet. Think ya could give that sow a hand?"

"Sure, sure," Stan went into the barn and pulled out a stool and bucket from the corner and went to milk the cow. It wasn't his favorite chore, but Stan knew Jim's folks wouldn't let him go play 'till his chores were done. If only his dad could see him milking a fat sow-- my what he'd say!

"Good mornin', Bessie," he crooned to the cow to soothe her. He wanted to make sure she knew he was there. Sneaking up on a cow was bad business, as Stan had already discovered. It had been hell coming up with a story Stan's father would believe. In the end, they just told him he got too close to the cow. Naturally, this was easier for Stan's father to believe than he'd been kicked while trying to milk. It wasn't really lying if you just left out the details, right?

Stan started milking the cow. The bucket quickly filled. As Stan was just about done, Jim strode over. "Ah, wow. You're gettin' good at that, ya city slicker! I knew you had a bit of farm boy in ya." Stan beamed with pride. "Looks like we'll have some extra cream today. If yer ma wants some, I think I can talk my ma into giving her some."

"Okay. I betcha she'd like that, Jim."

The boys took the milk inside the farmouse, leaving it on the counter for Mrs. Schondal to cook with. "Ma," yelled Jim, "I'm goin' to go to the field with Stan. We're gonna work on our fort."

"Alright. You be back in time for lunch, Jim, and I'll have some sandwiches waitin' for ya boys."

"Thanks, mom!" They hurried out the door and ran almost all the way to their fort.

[Nostalgiascape]

Stan didn't have the stamina Jim had and he had to stop and breathe.

"Hold, just a minute, need to catch my breath.", Stanley pleaded.
"Ha! You work on a farm and you never lose your wind",Jim prodded.
"Yeah yeah.", Stan replied while breathing heavy.
" Hey..Jim, I've been thinking.." Stan began but was interupted.
"Oh naw, when you start thinking we end up doin things that are nuts and it's pert near a miracle we ain't never been caught.", Jim cut in.
"Just hear me out. Have you ever heard anyone in school talk about broke leg road?",Stan asked.
"Who ain't? There's all kinda talk about scary things that happened there.", Jim replied.
"How would you like to go on a night time adventure?",Stanley asked with a mischievous grin.

[Andybev01]

Before Jim could answer the question he let out a sharp "OW!".

Stan was about to ask him what was what, but he too felt the need to share a hearty exclamation although his was a bit more rustic and began with "what the ....?!".

A hearty guffaw preceded a fresh hail of small pebbles and dirt.

The boys looked over the tree fort rail in time to see Hank Thompson high-tailing it across the field and disappear into the corn field, and the cool October morning.

"That son of a...!" but Stan didn't have time to expand on that thought before Jim had cleared the rail dropped to the ground and lit after Hank.

"Wait for me dang it!" Shouted Stan, as he shimmied down the treetrunk to join Jim in pursuit of their attacker.

[Nostalgiascape]

"Hank! I've had enough of you!", jim shouted as he trucked after the boy as fast as he could.
Hank laughed nervously as he ran in a panic trying to battle the cornstalks, batting the leaves out of his face.

Stan was the better runner and was shortening the distance between he and Hank Thompson who most children called Hog because of his eating habits in the lunchroom. Just as Stan was certain he had Hank, Hank was nowhere to be found.

"Wait for me dangit!" Stanley shouted finally catching up to Jim, only to find Jim looking completely perplexed.

"Sam hell! Where in the world..?", Jim asked stopping in mid sentence.

"Where in the world what? Jim? Where in the world what?",Stanley asked.
But Jim didn't say a thing. He just stood there rubbing his head in uncomfortable confusion.

[Andybev01]

The sharp snap of a cornstalk to one side caused the two boys to whip-crack their necks in unison.

Without a word they both took off in the direction of the sound and exited the last cornrow onto a recently cleared potato field, freshly tilled with rich manure and seeded with rye for the coming winter season.

Also planted in the pungent soil was Hank's face, his foot having discovered a stray potato vine and causing him to halt, post haste.

Ire quickly transformed into raucous humor as Jim and Stanley bust out laughing.

"This isn't funny!" Spat Hog...along with a fair amount of nutrient-rich soil.

"Oh yes it is. Besides, you are what you eat!"

[Nostalgiascape]

Hank slowly returned to his feet with an understandably sour look on his face. His face then transformed to something resembling an angry gargoyle.

"You want to laugh? I'll make you regret you ever met me!", Hank shouted.

"I already regret meeting you Hank!", Stanley quickly replied.

"No I'm serious!", Hank whined.

"I'm Jim, this is Stanley.", Jim replied. Stan laughed as Hank grew increasingly furious.

"You think you're so funny? Wait till I tell your parents you're thinking of going to broke leg! Yeah, what now?", Hank yelled.

"He heard that?", Jim asked Stanley.
"So what, we never actually said we were going.", Stan answered.

[Andybev01]

Late October weather in Missouri is fickle at best, and downright schizophrenic at times.

It wasn't very warm but the boys had broke a sweat from running across the field, and a sudden, strong gust of wind brought conversation to a halt...and sent a chill up their spines.

Jim was the one to point to the south and shout "Storm!".

The cloud bank heading their way had a depth of color from pale gray on the edges to unfathomable black at its core, and was rotating deceptively slowly across the horizon.

"Where's your cellar?!" Stan yelled to be heard above the rising howl of the approaching tornado.

"It's on the other side of the house...we'd never make it!" Said Jim, with a look of stark terror in his eyes.

Hank grabbed them each by their shoulders and shouted over the din "there's a trapdoor on the back of the shack. If we high-tail it, I think we'll make it!"

"What shack?!" The boys replied in unison.

"The one at the end of Broke Leg!" He yelled, and quickly turned and ran.

Stan and Jim looked at each other with bitter resolve in their eyes turned from the storm and booked after Hank who had already cleared the ditch on the edge of the farm and was running with all of his might to the crossroad, and toward the turn off to Broke Leg road.

[Nostalgiascape]

The boys ran in panic as they began to hear tree limbs cracking. Dirt and debris began to fly around them. An old dead tree limb struck Hank on the back of the head and he fell. The limb wasn't terribly big but the velocity with which it hit was enough to bring Hank down. Hank felt at his hair and brought back blood on his hand. The other two stopped to drag him to his feet, but his knees were wobbly.

"Hank you have to move! You have to run Hank!" Stan screamed above the roaring wind.