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Memory Monday-I’m a Murderer

Memory Monday-It’s a thing…

Before I turned 16, Mom and Granny allowed to drive the truck and car on the dirt road of our “holler” and I did so every chance I got. One summer Saturday, the family loaded into the truck and went to the grocery store. When we got back home, we stopped at Aunt Connie’s and unloaded her groceries first. Then, as usual, I jumped in the driver’s seat to drive the truck across the creek to Granny’s house. Grandpa had passed away years before, but Granny kept his truck and the camper top that went on the back. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I would say I was around 13-14 years old.

Granny and Jimmy, one of the neighborhood boys, decided to leave the tailgate down to sit on it for the ride to Granny’s. I pulled out of Aunt Connie’s driveway with no issues. There was a tree branch sticking out over the road on the other side of the creek. It was right in the path where I would normally drive out of the creek. Not wanting to scratch the truck, I tried to avoid the stick and somehow ended up pressing down on the accelerator. The truck shot halfway up the bank in front of me. On the back tailgate, Granny and Jimmy half tumbled, half jumped off the truck, but not before one of them hit the camper hatch with their head and shattered the glass.

The truck stopped and there was of a lot of yelling. Somehow I got the impression Granny was dead and I had killed her. I ran. I ran the rest of the way home and to the barn to hide. I was sobbing hysterically thinking I had done the most horrible thing I could do. Mom tracked me down once they got the truck of the bank and to the house to unload the groceries.

“Marsha, come on to the house.”

“No. I killed Granny.”

“Granny’s fine. Come on.”

“No she isn’t, I killed her!” I remember being so mad at Mom for not believing me, not being mad at me, and for lying.

“I’m telling you, she is fine. So are Jimmy and the truck.”

“No! I killed her.”

Mom left me sitting there. According to my mom, she went back to the house and told my Granny I was being a “little fool” and I thought I killed her. Finally, Granny came to the barn to get me. I really couldn’t argue that I killed her with her standing there so I went to the house with her.

The next week, we went for groceries as normal. I didn’t try to get in the driver’s seat once Connie’s things were unloaded. Granny looked at me and said, “Well, get up there. The truck won’t drive itself. The ice cream is melting.” That was Granny, logical to a fault and a lover of ice cream.

I drove us home without incident from there on out. I’m thankful Granny and Mom didn’t let me quit driving after my little accident.


About Marsha Blevins, Author

Marsha Blevins lives in West Virginia with her boyfriend and six fur-children. She earned her B.A. in English with a concentration on writing from Marshall University. Two of her short stories and several poems were published in the university’s literary magazine, Et Cetera. She is an active member of the writing group Wicked Wordsmiths of the West and WV Writers. Follow her at on Facebook at, on Twitter @marbleswords.

One response

  1. I look forward to these posts every week. I open my email on Monday in anticipation that I’m going to get an awesome little story. I especially love the ones like these that just reiterate what an amazing lady your Granny was.


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