Tainted Woods

Me an’ Annie was playin’ in the ole oak grove, back behind her house. Ma said it were hainted, but we knowed she were tetched.

‘Twas purt near wintry, and the wind had been a paintin’ so’s it were all gold and red. My tattered gray sweater didn’t half keep out them squirrel's o’ wind that Jack Frost was flingin’ them leaves ‘bout with.

“Hey, how’s ‘bout we get down in them leaves an’ build us a leaf fort?” I suggested.

“We’ll get all dirty, Carrie Sue!” Annie whined at me.

“Taint like we ain’t ne’r been there afore,” I said, and then I plopped into them leaves and a started throwin’ handfuls e’ry which way.

“Carrie Sue! Stop!” Annie squealed, but purty quick she was down there with me, wallowin’ and a pitchin’ leaves e’ry which way.

Afore long we was most covered up, and twixt that and all that squealin’ we was right tuckered, so we jus’ lay still. But them leaves ne’r settled down. I was a thinkin’ ole Jack Frost weren’t never gonna quit.

“Carrie Sue!” Annie whispered urgently. “Look at the leaves! Look!”

“What you goin’ on about, girl?”

“Shh! Jes look!” Annie hissed at me.

So I did. Them danged ole leaves weren’t leaves at all. Them’s was butterflies! Swirlin’ around jes like they was leaves, but I swear, them’s was butterflies. Huh. Don’t believe me. But next time Ma tole me a place was hainted, I knew she were right.