The Flood of '74A Story by Alex S. FoleyBack in '74 the river began to overflow the true accounting of what happened was never made public. It was a
dark and stormy night, made even more so by the loss of power to the small
Illinois town of Danberry. Sheriff Crawford and the rest of the police force
were down at the river with many of the townspeople. A call had been made to
the state police and national guard for help when the river had begun to
overflow its banks, but a sudden mudslide had cut the small town off from all
help. Crawford
dropped another sandbag on the wall they all were trying to build to hold the
flood waters back. He moved back to grab another and considered maybe the town
was truly cursed and it was finally going to be swept off the map. Since taking
office, he had to deal with all kinds of crazy and weird stuff everybody knew
about and nobody talked about. It had always been this way, things that
shouldn’t exist did in Danberry. He grabbed a
sandbag and hoisted it up as old Rufus appeared at his shoulder. The old black
man looked to be a hundred, but nobody could rightly say how old he truly was.
He was the local gravedigger and Crawford’s unofficial deputy when dealing with
the strangeness of Danberry. “There is a
problem up at the boneyard Sheriff.” “What kind
of trouble?” “The dead
ain’t resting easy tonight, Sheriff.” The dead of Danberry sometimes came back,
but it wasn’t like in the movies where they tried the eat the living. Most
didn’t remember they were dead and tried to return to their old lives. A few
knew the truth and just wanted to stretch their legs. “Speak
plain, Rufus,” Crawford said through gritted teeth as he lifted the heavy bag
and dropped it on the wall. “They are
about twenty minutes behind me, Sheriff. I think you should be warning these
good people that help is coming from the other side.” Crawford
stopped in his tracks and looked at the old black man. “Are you saying the dead
are coming to help us?” “Well, they
are part of this town also and most still have family here, so yeah, they be on
their way right now.” Crawford
stumbled and went down, ending up sitting in a muddy puddle. “God damn man,
this could be bad.” Rufus
reached down and dragged the Sheriff up. “That is why you need to let them
know. If they panic, then we are lost.” Crawford
nodded as he headed for the flatbed. He had no clue what he was about to say,
but he knew that tonight was his last night wearing this badge, that was for
sure. Officially,
the flood of ’74 was diverted by the hard work of the townspeople. Locked in a
cabinet in the basement of the town hall was the only accurate record of what happened
that night. No one would ever see the true record of what happened that night
in the small town of Danberry, Illinois. © 2022 Alex S. Foley |
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Added on August 5, 2022 Last Updated on August 5, 2022 Author
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