Burning, Burning:: The Perryville Disaster

By J. N. Sadler

An unstoppable mine fire that has burning for over forty years, destroys the quaint little town of Perryville in northeastern Pennsylvania, poisoning the air and killing surrounding wildlife. Rumor of six-foot lizards that can walk about on two legs is a popular rumor among the townspeople; but before the tireless fire comes to a dramatic end, the Perryville dragons are proven to be real.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499018783

J. N. Sadler

Janet Sadler is a resident of Havertown, Pennsylvania. She has published two volumes of poetry with her illustrations: Headwinds and Full Sail and has been published in many small literary magazines. Once member of the Mad Poets Society in Media, PA, and also the Overbrook Poets in Philadelphia, she reads her poetry at local venues. She was the former poetry director at Tyme Gallery in Havertown, PA and at Baldwin’s Book Barn in West Chester, PA. She has authored thirty flash fictions novels. Twenty-seven titles have been published through Xlibris and can be found at Xlibris.com, under J. N. Sadler Author’s email address: [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

It was in the hills of burning coal mines in the small town of Perryville in northeastern Pennsylvania. There, an underground mine fire burned for forty years, some say longer. Although the effects of the fire threatened poor air quality, many of the townspeople of Perryville stood firm and would not move away from their beloved village.

Sage Montell was orphaned at three and raised by her elderly grandparents. After their death, she, an only child, was forced to live in a foster home with two strict foster parents. They were the Hadleys. They had no other children, although, they had raised other foster children before. Sage was aware that the Hadleys had had two other wards. One mysteriously disappeared in the hills while playing, and the other died of untreated pneumonia; but, there were no living relatives to report this to, so investigations were never made as follow-up measures.

Al Hadley was the druggist in the small town’s pharmacy. His wife, Hattie, was a stay-at-home mom. She was a hill-horse of a woman, beefy and non-caring of her appearance. He was a spindly man with balding dark hair and small beady eyes. They showed no affection to each other or for any of the children. Sage despised them and vowed to run away, but to where?

The Hadleys went on hikes through mountain woods looking for rare fungi and plants. Sage would always want to stay home, but even though she was thirteen, they would force her to march along with them over the ridges and valleys to gather their treasured berries. There was never any conversation on these outings. She had never seen this fruit anywhere else but up on the smoky ridge near the great hole. They were gray and fuzzy.

They wound up in a dark, smoky area. The air smelled foul from sulfur. On bright days, the smoke was invisible, but on dull rainy afternoons, it was evident. She would cover her mouth as it was hard to breathe. Al and Hattie would bend down to pick the herbs that grew in that hellish atmosphere, special attention paid to the gray berries that grew in abundance on the ground. They made Sage carry the baskets home.

On the way down the mountain, they would pass a dilapidated wooden house with a rickety front porch and a wishing well. There was a tethered, mangy yellow dog that barked at them as they passed by. She knew the dog’s name was Ranger, because the young boy that lived there called him back to keep him from breaking loose when he saw them.

The boy was about fifteen, ethnicity, African American, with wooly black curls, and big, dark eyes. He would look at them curiously as they passed. The Hadleys never paid him any attention. Sage would smile, and he would smile back and wave. Al swatted her shoulder to signal her to keep going and not lollygag along the way. She wanted so to meet the handsome boy with the dog. It was difficult living in a home with no conversation, no way to express herself. Hattie was not a good mother figure, she only designated chores and kept Sage from going to school, declaring that she was needed at home, that she would home-school her. Somehow, the authorities ordained that this could be so. Sage grew up ignorant and unhappy. Her figure was blooming, and she was feeling restless with her hormonal tide rising.

One afternoon, when Hattie was in town shopping, Sage stayed home, pretending to be sick. As soon as the woman left, she quickly dressed and ran outside, down the path to the woods, and to the house where the boy lived.

It was Saturday, and he wouldn’t be at school. She was out of breath, running as fast as she could, hoping to find him there. She came to an abrupt halt in front of his house, never being this close before. He was on the porch, head down. Ranger had his head in the boy’s lap. The boy was crying. Sage approached him. He looked up, got to his feet to retreat into the house, but remembered that his father was resting. He had just had a seizure, being an epileptic. She beckoned for him to come to her. He slowly walked off the porch, looking over his shoulder. The dog whimpered and followed him.

I’m Sage. Why are you crying? Is something wrong?

She extended her hand to him. He looked at her, drying his tears with his shirt. He took her hand. His hand was trembling.

My father is a sick man. He has fits. At those times, he mumbles and talks crazy. It’s hard to take, since my mom ran off years ago with another man. She couldn’t take it, either. He doesn’t take his medicine. I feel guilty wishing that I lived somewhere else, and that he would magically be taken care of by someone else.

He tried to keep the corners of his mouth from turning down and the tears from falling.

Immediately, she felt sorry for him. She wasn’t happy for other reasons, but understood his situation and the guilt.

Come with me. What is your name?

She pulled him firmly away from his house and into the woods to a familiar trail.

As they walked together, he answered, Barney Mack Davis.

She nodded. My foster last name is Hadley. Have you heard the name? Father Hadley owns the drugstore in town."

They stepped over roots and adjusted to the unexpected twists and turns of the rough path. The land slanted for a while, then straightened onto a level bright meadow. Ranger followed closely, but stopped to sniff and lift his leg on a tree. He was a cross between a Golden Retriever and an Irish Setter.

They always come up here to pick whatever it is they find interesting. They never say hello or even talk to each other. I’ve seen them with other kids in the past. I never saw any of them in school. I never see you in school. Don’t you go? Are you one of those home-schooled kids?

She stopped walking. There was a fallen tree in the path, on the border of the meadow. The grass was bright green and yellow and flowers dotted the field with color. The sky was blue and clouds were drifting overhead. The loam smelled like mushrooms.

Yes. Let’s take a break. Is your dad all right being left alone in the house?

Yes. He’s asleep now. These seizures take a lot out of him.

I can’t stay long. I don’t want Mother Hadley to find me gone. I don’t know what she would do to me if she catches me. It seems like both of us belong in better places than we’ve been put.

You’re sweet, you know it? he said.

Barney’s voice had just changed and was sometimes deep, cracking and becoming higher like a sour note on a horn. He plucked a buttercup and put it under her chin.

You like butter, he said, tossing the small flower aside into the grass.

I guess I do. We don’t have butter in the house. Father Hadley says it is bad for you. We eat weird stuff, like big pots of greens and vegetables. They don’t believe in sweets, either. There is nothing that I like about my life, but I should be grateful, so they tell me.

She got up and helped him to his feet. Ranger was rolling over in a patch of dirt in the sun. He jumped to his feet and barked, ready to go.

Barney patted his head. Come on, boy. It’s time to go back.

Ranger woofed into the air and wagged his tail.

"You’re lucky to