Chapter One
*Dueling banjos?! Listening from inside my window Deliverance famous for the Dueling banjos otherwise known as "The Feudin Banjos" in the movie "Deliverance" is playing on television. It's loud echoing throughout the cells. Everything echoes in prisons and jails. I hate that movie it's gross, but true. I love banjo playing always have. Wish they didn't put it in such a sick movie.
"The Feudin Banjos" was composed the year I was born, 1955. Arthur Smith first recorded it playing a four string banjo accompanied by Don Reno on a five string banjo. In 1963 it was first aired on the Andy Griffith show it was called; "Briscoe Declares for Aunt Bee." I remember them as the "Darling Family." Which was played by a Bluegrass group, "The Dillards."
City Folk coming into the mountains making fun of us Hillbillies. Genetic deficiencies, incest is true. Fucking animals is true too, but your not going to make out of the mountains. If you do your never the same. Hillbillies can clean their stupid asses like they do all animals. Skin them, quarter them out and barbeque them after they fuck the hell out of them.
It's also true Hillbillies are partial to pig squealing. Yes we are born of incest, but that is not for anyone, but God to judge. Most Hillbillies can play any instrument you put in their hands by nature without any lessons. Most Hillbillies carry a guitar or banjos everywhere.
I'll admit Hillbillies do fuck anything with a hole men, women, children or animals, but so do city men, preachers, men in suits or regular clothes. I know this to be a fact because I grew up with this sick shit. Not all Hillbillies are overall wearing banjo pickers. Many have city jeans, white shirts and claim to be preachers.
We lived in the mountains think about it we don't have much of what city people would call clothes. We wrapped or tied anything we could find around our naked asses. Potato sacks work good. That movie triggers sick disturbing sad thoughts memories from the back woods hills mountains of Kentucky.
Hillbillies have huge families all blood kin in hollers, backwoods mountain people. The music and song was used in "Deliverance" without Smith's permission which resulted in a successful lawsuit. Billy Reddin who was depicting the mentally challenged inbred could not actually play the banjo.
Most real Hillbillies can. Mike Addis was actually the hands on the neck of the banjo. Those city folk got what they deserved coming into the mountains making fun of Hillbillies. These scenes were depicted to be the mountains of the Appalachians, but it's the same in all backwoods mountains. Especially Kentucky.
But, we can't fight the system the CO's rule the TVs and the majority rules. So we can't say what we can and can't watch I'll have to listen to the Feudin banjos for awhile. Not so bad where I'm at. I've been in a ton of jails trust me I know I've got it good in here.
In the Appalachia mountains incest was reality common as clear mountain water moonshine, mountain brewed beer and whiskey, double barrels, chicken fights and good ole' homegrown green. It was many years before I saw modern conveniences such as out houses. Later they started putting doors on them. No one could watch our naked asses taking a shit anymore!
Then we got doors on our houses, but we still slept with our dogs. I was born in Indianapolis, Indiana in the heart of it all. Original Indy 500 was only a few miles. Off and on we lived in the city, but dad wanted us out in the sticks. I spent most my years in Kentucky growing up in the mountains with sick ass perverted Hillbilly kin folk.
I never knew at that age being pawned off on Uncles Aunts grandma and cousins was because mom and dad never wanted girls they were getting rid of us basically giving all our cousins and uncles little girl's pussy. I don't candy coat nothing! Guess I never really wander why none of the boys got to stay at kin folks houses in the mountains.
If I told on brothers, cousins and uncles for putting their hands in my panties playing with my pussy or pushing me against cabin walls and trees. Chasing me trying to constantly rape me or threatening me I would take the blame. Even at that age it felt wrong what sick puppies.
I was always horrified, but somehow someone always caught us then I have to take the blame because dad says, "Mom, my sisters and me entice men we are whores." Explain to a nine year old what a whore is. Any child would be terrified and traumatized. How do you fight against men taking sex from us when everyone always took their word over mine?
Dad would say, "She's a whore entices men." It was devastating when they backed me into trees or corner me in cabins or on long trips and try whatever they wanted. When I came forth and told I was no longer wanted by my aunts, cousins or uncles.
No longer could I escape the fury and abuse of my dad with their horrible screaming and fighting over nonsense by getting away to relatives which wasn't any better of a situation. Dad always thought mom was cheating on him. She was. I've some stories thoughts and input on that myself. Mom sent notes by me to neighbor men.
I don't blame her dad was a piece of shit. Throughout childhood relatives and neighbors came to try to rape us while dad was away. Mom was always trying to get away from dad, but he was obsessed with mom. My dad was a Pentecost oneness preacher. I'm branded as a preacher's daughter for life. Dad was also a volunteer medic with the fire department.
He worked three days on and three days off. Dad also ran a business which was an excellent business called Dependable Fire Extinguisher & Equipment Company. I was tiny, but could hold my own working with dad on his business or whatever he was working on or building. This was all later when we moved into civilization.
Uncles, cousins and older brothers were raping us. If we told the situation would be worse. Dad would blame us for being females natural born whores. Stories you hear about incest abuse and the like in childhood or even adulthood are different scars in all aspects emotionally physically financially and psychologically for life. Our pussies AND minds were screwed.
I looked forward to times when I get dumped on my aunts uncles grandma and grandpa even it was a chance of getting raped because I always ran away into the mountains and wrote in the dirt. I loved sitting in the mountains for hours looking at wildlife enjoying peace and quiet except for the awesome noisy animals.
I wrote about everything that was happening to me. If I wrote about it I felt I would never forget it, but it would just all go away if I just stayed right there in that mountain and wrote about what uncles cousins even my brothers had done to my mom, my baby sister Darlene and me. Everyone back then had huge families.
Women were always pregnant around the same time it was common. Big families many sisters brothers aunts uncles and cousins. Women had 11-18 children. Our grandmothers, grandfathers, moms, dads, cousins, uncles and aunts were relatives, blood kin before they were marrying, fucking and sucking within family with their gross incest.
The women were always pregnant at the same time or near. Told you incest was alive in the mountains. Men hillbillies fucked everybody like animals they fucked animals too. Mom and dad's screaming and arguing are common ground in abusive backgrounds I want it to be different better for any kids I have.
Most arguments according to dad were mom's fault they had three whore daughters never to amount to anything except drugs alcohol and men. Turns out he was pretty much right so be it. Dad always had that fear of mom leaving him for another man and she would.
How could dad, a Pentecost oneness preacher who was once the well known Winchester local drunk and drug addict on the streets have the right to condemn and judge little girls who had no idea what was happening? Horrible nightmares of our entire lives. As far back as could I remember all that I went through were my first proverbial straws of life.
My proverbial camel's back will be loaded down with proverbial straws for many years I hope proverbial straw prices don't go too high like all else. Incest and abuse was not the hardest for me most times I was rescued escaped interrupted or got away before something worse happened.
Hardest for me was my baby sister, Darlene whispering in my ears telling me she's sick. I was the only person she could trust even if I did make her sleep in the closet because she snored really loud, but God got even with me for that a few years later. She would fall to the floor shake tremble violently. Her body jumping twitching swallowing her tongue.
Dad always beat her till her bowels and bladder gave way all over her and the floor. I was hiding around corners watching trembling scared crying not able to help for fear I would be beat too. Wish someone had whipped dad's ass back then. Harder for her than me when I was hiding on the stairs of our basement hardly breathing for fear they would hear me.
I was watching my older brothers rape Darlene taking turns not understanding fully what they were doing to her till later in life. The thing I did understood was afterwards she would need me to hold her lie to her tell her everything would get better it would someday be over while cleaning up blood and semen covering her.
They tried many times to trade me school supplies and many other tactics over the years to have sex with them. There should be a law all male hillbillies should have their dick and balls cut off. Perverted city men too what the hell. Men you should not let all this offend you if your not a rapist pervert and don't do incest your excused.
Dad always bought everyone else school supplies clothes and shoes, but told me I had to work and earn whatever I get in life. Okay I will ass hole. I never saw Darlene again I thought maybe when we're older we could hunt for each other. Dad accused her of being a whore tramp saying, "We entice the boys."
Darlene was always pretending to be sick dad said. She was epileptic and diabetic this was what the seizures were. Dad committed her to some kind of place for people not in their right minds. How could she ever be in her right mind? I missed her and didn't know where she disappeared to. My oldest sister had gone through all this and gone on to prison many times.
Been married a number of times and went with other women's husbands. She escaped four times from prison climbing into my bedroom window scaring me to death hiding in my closet long as she could. I don't remember her ever living at mom and dad's house which should have been our home. I never considered anyplace mine.
I remember she was kind of crazy overly jealous of her husbands or boyfriends. She always thought I was looking at one of them. She came at me with a knife one time thinking I was looking at her man. I threw the mop bucket at her full of dirty water kicked her in the stomach then ran out the back door. I got on my old bike rode to a preacher friend of dad's.
I was dating his son though I didn't know what dating was. His son protected me if he could. His sister was my best friend Eva she later married one of my older brothers John. John after dad's death overdosed. He was raping my little sister my little girl-friends and tried me many times. I didn't EVER give a damn what happened to him nor my dad.
I was pregnant for the first time hitchhiking through Indian this same preacher man became a cab driver tried to rape me. I was sick on the streets homeless starving dirty a hurting tired. Giving out pussy to an old bald fat wannabe preacher was the last thing on my mind. His son wasn't like that.
Neither was his daughter, Eva who was gorgeous with long straight brown hair. She was a faithful friend. She married my brother, Johnny Rae. My sister Carolyn was like mom she could sing play the accordion any instrument without lessons. She was beautiful to me what I can remember of her. Her body was always covered with cigarette burns and prison tattoos.
I never knew or realized till it happened for many years I would later follow in dad's footsteps for many years be the new well known street bound Winchester drug addict and alcoholic with an added street whore reputation. Mom tried to escape dad many times only putting eleven kids in danger.
An example is when dad was driving towards a cliff trying to scare mom to get her in the car to go home with us with ALL us kids in the car. I don't remember who won that one. Years ahead uncles brothers cousins and neighbor men raped mom my sisters and me. Never understanding till later in life. Mom never helped us nor prevent them from doing sexual things to us.
Nor did she care how she or dad treated us. She encouraged them to give us money. My mom was a piece of shit! I was the only girl uh female whore left in the house for dad to continue trying to get rid of. Take this never ending revenge against women out on mom and me. Pentecost preacher my ass. Why would mom let all this happen to us?
It's no excuse that she had not had it so good either. Grandpa Martin raped her as a child many times. Maybe this was why I've never known Grandpa Martin to say one word to anyone EVER. I've never heard him speak never heard that man talk. He sat around with a fly swat in his hands. Us kids ignored him he wasn't shit to us only memories you bury forever.
Mom married an abusive man, Dwayne to get away from grandpa. Mom married another abusive man my dad to escape that abusive man. It's a no brainer why I can't tell the difference between love and abuse their was no difference. Is it hereditary choices or is life dealing us bad cards?
All my life I've had a saying which may be true I've said; "I got left behind in the old year." Born 11:59 December 31 New Year's Eve on minute till midnight. My twin brother was born a few minutes in the new year. I've become the best at everything I've done in my opinion a perfectionist to a point anal some friends now days say. Everything still goes rotten.
One minute I would have been a New Year's Baby. My twin brother David made New Year's baby. Maybe life would have been entirely different if I had not been left behind in the old year cheated out of one minute. I say, "Mom put me behind one minute in life always missing opportunities of anything good in life."
Is there something so out of the ordinary about me that every minute of my life has been continuous chaos traumas violence abuse incest pain sad chain of events? No wander I'm an insomniac too much drama, rapes, incest, violence, trauma, abusive marriages or relationships.
Courts, jails, prisons, probations, wrecks, fines, court cost, DUI traffic schools, counselors, purges and bonds. Children taken violently. Losses of homes, properties and vehicles. Drugs, deaths, alcoholics, cheating, lying, scams, robberies all with malicious intent, assaults, hurricanes, tragedies and anger. WOW I give up there is a really long list of turbulence.
I've written my story many times just for it to end up in trash cans or shredded for shipping. Then floppy disks which go bad unreadable or the computer crashes having to rebuild, rewrite and deal with repeated stories transferred in with wrong programs not compatible with older programs, notepad or wordpad always crashing, always starting over just like life.
Once I wrote it during a two year stay in jail in Winchester, KY. When I was young that jail was just a hang out for me. Jail was small and old so was the jailer. Ole' Jim Boyd, the jailer took good care of me. I wrote on Kotex boxes.
Once again I wrote it during a two year stay in jail in Bradenton, Fl. Written on whatever scraps of cardboard, toilette paper or Kotex boxes. Another two year stay in jail in Sarasota, Florida I wrote it. Another two year stay in jail in Bradenton, Florida. They need to stop putting trash cans on the outside of jails. Another two year stretch in Orlando, Florida.
I wrote my story again. First I had nothing to write on except court papers they kept giving us. Nothing good comes of anything I do in life no matter how good I am at it. Between some of those stays in the crossbar hotels in the outside world I typed it manually literally on a manual typewriter over and over losing it many times.
Never staying long in one place it's hard to keep anything. I started on the outside free world writing in pencil on tablets I collected up compliments of the county during my two year stay. Later graduated to another manual typewriter then to an electric one and much later computers. All these years I've been writing trying to tell my story.
These days my problem is my books won't keep their format during cut and copy. I've written it many times, but don't keep it published long because it always loses it's formatting. I have to keep starting over. Going by Faith it's someone more powerful spiritual that keeps driving me to keep writing.
And to tell what happened to my two nine year old card playing Hillbilly girl friends, me, mom, my sisters and sisters in Faith. Dueling banjos seemed endlessly echoing throughout the jail. I watched Deliverance it's gross. Hillbillies in the mountains raping fucking city dudes in the ass who wandered into their neck of the mountains forcing them to squeal like pigs.
Exaggerations? Not hardly it's true Hillbillies are nasty violent animals. Makes me have cringing nightmares, horrors of my past knowing that I've lived through that before, but it seems in another life now. None the less I'm proud to be a Hillbilly. Many women in jails/prisons the entire world have horrible heart wrenching nightmare stories of abuse most can't imagine.
What happens to us in life plays a big role on our state of mind then now and later. Abuse and violence play on our minds and hearts making us think this is all life is ever going to bring for us. We sit behind glass while the mayor, government, state, county and city officials walk by us everyday staring at us through glass.
Looking at us with contempt like we're caught animals, criminals, drug addicts, dealers, prostitutes, alcoholics, violent crime offenders. We are creatures society wants to get rid of lock up forever or study and pick our brains to see where the criminal element started, what the fuck ever. Did they find a cure for the criminal element? Which is what they think we are.
They want to pick our brains attempt to rehabilitate those who are rehabilitative. They learn from studying us to find where the criminal minds birth. They make speeches of how they love us and the Lord and oh yeah by the way keep those votes coming. They love money, prestige, pool parties, lies and votes this brings.
We are societies cast outs making them richer more liked more votes for doing society a favor by catching us try to rehabilitate us. Many women die or commit suicide in jails or prisons. Some I had gotten to know over the many years of staying in different county jails/prisons. Many had been to prison many times and are going back to prison.
Or they are taking breaks to take care of older charges then going back to prison. These are prison or jail war stories hid from society. Many of these women are talented artist singers construction workers chefs and cooks. Some owned businesses only for the death drugs to take it all leaving them with no other recourse, but to prefer this life.
They give up after the drugs society men street life family aides alcohol sex abuse and violence have stripped them left them numb not caring what happens. Most is of their own doing yes, but it don't help them become any better of citizen when the system family and men beat them/us down rob and rape them/us along with the system.
I tried escaping dad's fury his disappointment of me being a female whore abandoning the incest of brothers relatives the beatings on all us kids from dad by running away time and again. Going as far as I could start a new life. California sounded good.
We were not aloud to watch TV go to ball games watch movies or go to carnivals. Never hold a deck of cards play with a toy hold a doll read a comic show our necks wrist legs or ankles or do things other children do and crave. The only toy I owned was a doll with no head I kept hid a man in the fire department gave me for Christmas.
My dad made me believe our hands would swell if you held a deck of cards. I had a deck hidden under my mattress for a long time. I wouldn't go near it for the longest. I really believed my hands would swell up. Now days it's habitual to play cards or games on the computer or Internet with people across the world.
If dad knew my oldest sister played Michael Jackson and let us listen we would all have taken a beating! We had a little record player the only 45 record we owned was Michael Jackson. We loved Michael Jackson before he got himself into all the latest trouble he's in these days. I still love you Michael Jackson and ABC I have Faith in you!
Archie's in my eyes and heart were real with their "Aww Sugar Sugar Aww Honey Honey You are My Candy Girl." Later in life I drove everyone in sane in the bars with this song. It was just such a good dancing tune. Monkeys stole my heart then broke my heart splitting up. I had a fan club for each of the Monkeys for all Monkey lovers.
Unpopular girls hung around together. We picked names of the Monkeys we loved the best. I was Davy Jones. Davy was gorgeous, but all of the Monkeys have my heart always. I've been to a lot of the concerts everywhere anytime I hear one of the Monkeys is going to be there.
King of the Road and Hang on Sloopy, Jerry Reed, Jerry Lee Lewis, "Great Balls of Fire," Shirley Temple, Hank Williams Sr., Bobby Bare, Charlie Pride, Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, Soggy Bottom Boys, Waylon and Willie, Boxcar Willie, Grand Ole' Opry. All these have been here and are here to stay legends. Oh and Three Stooges.
Comic books, Sunday comics, theaters, drive in movies, ball games, dances, gym classes, music, movies, cards, television, radio or whatever dad considered entertainment or material was taking our minds away from God. These things are of the devil, dad believed. We were severely beaten for doing anything or saying anything concerning any of these subjects.
God forbid me show my ankles wrist or neck a small kid a preacher's daughter marked for life! Ripping the hems from my dresses wasn't cool dad. I wanted to go far away. California sounded good to me. I didn't know on foot it would take so long to get to California. I also didn't know hopping in box cars don't work they don't go anywhere.
I never got to California by the way. The only thing always running away accomplished was a life on the streets or highways getting raped with guns, knives, violence, drugs, alcohol, sex and men. Men were always pulling knives or guns to my head or neck.
If I had known what was out there in the world it would not have mattered. Home was NOT where any heart was. Highways and streets were better than a life of beatings, rapes, incest, being thrown against walls for being female whores. Wait what? Where was the difference? A child should I stay home or run? I always chose running.
It's not like the kids today we spoil with expensive clothing these days are into HOT TOPICS, expensive games, VCRs, DVDs, computers, drugs, alcohol, sex, tons of food, personal items etc...even if we do without they still complain wanting more. Bored no matter how much you buy to entertain them with.
Highways streets the concrete itself loved me when no one else would. Alone even on rainy, stormy, snowing or scorching sun I was happier there than anywhere because it was freedom. I was most happiest when I could climb the Appalachia mountains in Kentucky and sit there alone with animals and mother nature long as I wanted. Write in the dirt what was happening.
I can't find my way back to those mountains. I was supposed to be left some of that mountain, but when I told on everyone for being perverts I lost that. I was no longer considered family to be left anything. Kiss My Ass! Fuck their perverted asses.
Still a child I was always found by the law at their mercy bound by laws returned to dad each time who beat me for running away time and again. I felt loved wanted by the streets and highways I thought concrete was the best friend I've ever found. Snow rain or heat I would always return there.
Hitchhiking or walking far as I could from state to state amazed at how far I'd get turn around and go back the other way or any way not caring where it would lead or take me to. I loved my freedom. I never thought about proverbial straws my proverbial camel was collecting till a perverted killer rapist monster outside my family added horror in my life.
I don't know where I got this camel with the strong back carrying straws for me that would multiply over the years. Hope that Camel plans for a long haul and lots of straws. I have a feeling he's going all the way with me till the end when that last straw will be the last straw that breaks my faithful camel's back. Good thing proverbial camels are free.
Dad bought acreage in the back woods of Spencer, Indiana wanting to get mom and me away from neighbors city and men. We were whores remember? Miles away from anyone or anything. He didn't care if we had water food clothes or made it to school. He was then a fireman working in Indianapolis, Indiana still preaching too.
I rarely saw humans aside from mom and my brothers unless we went to school which was rare. Two nine year old hillbilly girls my age on the bus actually likes me and plays cards with me and gets into trouble with me everyday over it with the bus driver. I wish I knew their families so I could tell them the story that I was the one who survived this tragedy.
I loved those two girls. Sleep with the angels I'll be there with you soon. Me nor my brothers and sisters go to school often because dad drags us to different counties and states to preach and do his famous Indian dance. Me and Daniel a younger brother daily took jugs walking miles to get mountain water.
I talked Daniel into running away with me going to grandma's in Kentucky. Grandma called them and snitched us out. They assumed Daniel talked me into running away and blamed it on Daniel so I let him take the blame and the beating that came with it. I have no good excuse okay?
Dad and my older brothers were running a big machine called a bush hog trying to mow down the endless fields of brush. That machine looked huge to a tiny girl not much older than nine or ten. Many years while growing up I loved working with and for dad. I helped him build that three story house us kids grew up in Indianapolis, Indiana, Spencer Ave.
I worked with him on his company "Dependable Fire Extinguisher and Equipment Company. I don't know why he hated me cept he thinks I'm a whore. Before sunrise this day I wanted to make dad be proud of me maybe like me. I got on that big bush hog taking down as much of that field as I could to impress dad thinking this should get dad to like me.
I stopped taking a break watching the pigs/hogs and horses breed thinking humans wasn't much better than cruel animals taking whatever they want from the opposite sex whether they want it or not. My thoughts were interrupted by a strange man stopping to ask me where the McIntosh's lived. I thought it was very strange where did a human come from way out here?
Where are these people he says live out here? How and why would a man get lost all the way in the mountains back woods of Indiana? I told him we had not lived here long people were far away we don't know anyone yet. He asked where my mom dad or family was.
Not knowing what he was leading up to I told him dad was in Indianapolis working, mom and my brothers were still asleep. I watched him walk back to his car and get in. I turned for a moment continuing my break watching the animals thinking of the endless fields of bushes and brush not knowing this man had other plans.
Seemed only a minute his hands covered my mouth he was hurting me he had a gun to my head forcing me into his car making me lie down so no one would see me. It was all happening so quick! How had he returned so fast? I was allowed to get up he grabbed me violently forcing me with the gun to my head with hands full of my hair in his other hand.
He drove for awhile with the gun and steering wheel in one hand a handful of my hair in his other hand. I was scared out of my brains! We stopped climbed over barbed wire fences to a path going back into the woods going further into the privacy of the woods there was a large area had been mowed. Like this was planned or happened before.
How many other little girls had he taken here? How many more was he going to take here? We got where he wanted to stop a large area also mowed down I was scared couldn't stop screaming and crying which only made him mad. He pulled out his penis. With the gun in one hand a handful of my hair in the other he kept forcing my mouth to his penis.
I clamped my mouth shut I thought my teeth were breaking. I was cutting my lips hurting my mouth trying to keep this thing from going into my mouth. The more I screamed and cried the harder he hit me with the gun. By the time his semen squirted all over my face my clothes had been torn to shreds.
I was naked and badly beaten my body had cuts and bruises, but somehow I was lose. I don't know how, but I was lose. Shaking falling crying screaming in hysterics. I ran barefoot naked in creeks and fields cutting my feet and body as I fell. Running screaming crying not knowing how far I had gone or where I was at. I saw a big house on a hill I ran to the house.
A nice lady with a horrified look on her face answered the door and wrapped me in a blanket. The sheriff told her not to feed me or give me anything to drink and not to clean me up till after they got there. They took pictures and scraped stuff off my body. Then took samples from my vagina, my mouth and took blood.
Exactly who was going to be on trial? Me or the man who did this? Was I being tortured and raped then or now? I was more scared of what them and dad would do to me. I returned home the law left dad beat me accusing me of being a whore enticing the man. I was eight or nine I didn't know what enticing nor whore even meant.
I was wearing a huge dirty T-shirt which belonged to one of my brothers and a huge ugly purple skirt that belonged to my mom. I was bush hogging down a field how was this enticing him? Someone should explain to a nine year old what enticing and whore means. This day I was riding the bus with my girlfriends. We get off to walk a long ways to our houses.
That man was waiting! He took me and my two girlfriends to that same wooded place over the torn down barbed wire fence through the f