The Murder Creek Chronicles

By Murder Creek Publishing

The Murder Creek Chronicles gives an entertaining account of how the author dealt with and endured a difficult divorce while struggling to make a 25-year old travel trailer, in the middle of the wilderness, marginally habitable. The author's tenacity and determination finally conquer leaky roofs, lack of heat, no water or sanitary facilities, no working kitchen, no suitable sleeping arrangements, problem bugs, and nuisance outdoor critters. After two years of hand-to-mouth finances, near starvation conditions, and numerous road blocks and dead-ends on every major repair project to improve his “home,” the author finds that focusing so hard on survival has helped him deal with the day-to-day disappointments of a deteriorating relationship. Share the trials and triumphs of the author as he slowly overcomes numerous hardships and transitions to a new perspective on what's important in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Murder Creek Publishing
• Release date: Sep 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466045088

Murder Creek Publishing

Retired Air Force officer. Love outdoor activities, fossil hunting, geology, finding and polishing gemstones, making jewelry, doing watercolors, and writing about my interests. You might find a humorous story, a piece on parenting, a theological essay, or a "how to" article on cutting stones among my offerings. As Mr. Gump said "... like a box of chocolates - you don't know what you'll get."

Book preview

The Murder Creek Chronicles

or

How poverty, starvation, isolation, and barely imaginable hardships - helped me survive a difficult divorce

R. H. Allen

Published by Murder Creek Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 R. H. Allen

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Chapter One – Fall from Grace

To describe my move to Murder Creek as unplanned is more than an understatement! My wildest dreams had sometimes flirted with a place of my own in an idyllic country setting, but the move to Murder Creek was more like a forced exile to Devil’s Island! Six years of an increasingly difficult marriage had prepared me for a life alone, but somehow I had envisioned a more gradual transition to a place with at least a few creature comforts. I was not prepared for Murder Creek!

Murder Creek wanders by Lean Acres, a small town near the border of Alabama and Florida. It’s located about halfway between Mount View, Florida and the Alabama state line. Lean Acres has a post office. In the last city council election, a total of 56 votes were cast, which immediately raised allegations that some folks voted more than once and some of the voters might have actually risen from the dead to vote because they were so interested in the outcome. Lean Acres is surrounded by gentle rolling hills. The countryside is checker boarded by alternating soybean and cotton fields and small tracts of pine trees. The primary industry of the area is poverty. With my decidedly hostile separation agreement, I fit in nicely.

Before I moved to Murder Creek, I lived in a tranquil neighborhood in Mount View. The comfortable houses were set on large, well-manicured lawns, and the stately dogwoods and azaleas gave a country estate look to the surroundings. This was upper-middle class living at its best!

The day before the move was rather cold and bitter for an April day in northern Florida. The sun occasionally popped out for a few moments to try to chase the chill away, but it was soon stuffed back into a sack of clouds by the whistling remains of a March wind, that didn’t know when it had worn out its welcome.

My spouse, Elizabeth, and I had been embroiled in another war of wills that came about after her friend Buffy made a careless remark a few days before. Buffy, in one of her spates of mindless chatter, had mentioned that I had approached her lawyer husband, about four years ago, concerning representing me in a divorce. Although the information was badly outdated and no longer pertinent, it outraged Elizabeth. She couldn’t bear the thought that our neighbors might think we weren’t getting along well. I assume she thought they were all deaf and had not heard any of our full volume arguments. This was, at once, the spark that ignited Elizabeth’s fury and the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. It tossed quite a load on my back, as well, but we’ll get into that later.

One thing led to several others, and I suddenly came to my senses while stuffing clothing and a few personal items into the back of my battered pickup. I promptly chugged out of the driveway, turned north on Highway 85, drove for a half hour, turned onto a clay road for a few more minutes, then rolled to a stop on the edge of a swampy little stream called Murder Creek. That’s how I found myself parked on a tiny parcel of land near Lean Acres, trying to get all my worldly goods into a 25-year old travel trailer. We had haphazardly parked the trailer there, a year or so before to get the eyesore out of our upper-middle class backyard. While I was moving in, it began to rain. This was a very appropriate portent of things to come.

The travel trailer was old, and in poor repair. I’d like to find something good to say about it, but nothing comes to mind. The floor was quite waterproof; unfortunately, the roof wasn’t. That meant all of the water pouring in couldn’t get out unless you opened a door or knocked a hole in the floor. Actually, I didn’t choose either solution. I used buckets - and pans - and cups - and towels. It rained for days. At first I