“There’s a lot of mystic in these mountains.” Hollen nodded toward the tree covered hills. “There’s things that happen up there you’d not believe ’til it happens to you.”
“Like what, Papaw?”
“Balls of fire that dance like butterflies. Voices that call you by name when you are all alone.”
“Balls of fire? Now, Papaw, you’re just spinning tales.”
“No, boy, I’m not. Like I said, it’s not ’til it happens to you that you can believe it.”
Former Ramblings of an Insane, Lesbian, Book Writing Crip
