Bony (standard:humor, 2243 words)
Author: Anonymous	Added: Oct 16 2015	Views/Reads: 2267/1597	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
short Drama ,

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

about her; she knows what is inside her heart and mind, and I explain 
that that is all that matters. 

She told me that even her own kinfolks make fun of her for being so
skinny.  They whisper to each other, being careful that she does not 
hear, but she does.  When a man loves a woman, he will protect her any 
way he can.  I will not allow this name calling to go on.  It has to 
stop before they ruin Wilma's mind.  She tells me she can handle what 
people are calling her, but I know she is not being totally honest.  
She's only saying that so I won't worry about her feelings. 

I used to think that a hard sock on the jaw was the worst pain that
could be afflicted, but since I met Wilma, I've changed my mind.  Hurt 
feelings are far worse than physical pain.  A black eye or busted nose 
will heal after a while, but a wounded heart is hard to heal, 
especially when the abuse continues.  I never could understand what 
folks get out of hurting people's feelings.  It takes a cold-hearted 
person to do that to someone. It seems to me that to lift someone up in 
spirit is far better than kicking them down with words. 

On the night of the square dance, I walked across the ridge to get
Wilma.  We strolled about a mile around the ridge to get to the Moore's 
farm.  Old man Moore's wife loves all the young folk around Muddy Fork 
and since there isn't much for them to do around here, it was good of 
her to think of them and provide the entertainment.  The cane stripping 
and square dance were the highlight of their year for many of the young 
folk. 

Little did I know that this night would change things forever for me and
Wilma.  I sure hoped I would not have to fight because I had on my best 
clothes.  When we arrived, the barn was filled with young folk from all 
around the county.  Lanterns were hung on nails inside the barn wall, 
and the Moore's had built a large platform just for square dancing.  
Fiddle and banjo music filled the air, and the young folk danced on the 
large platform.  It was a sight to behold as all the neighborhood gals 
danced with the young men from around these parts.  Wilma and I stood 
to one side, drinking apple cider as we watched the dancing.  She did 
not dare to join in as she was afraid someone would call her 'Bony 
Wilma.'  That name was a curse to her – it kept her from smiling and 
being happy at heart.  I was thinking that just maybe tonight would be 
a night of fun and I would not have to fight someone for calling my gal 
a name, but that did not happen. 

About the time both of us were enjoying ourselves, just being there and
minding our own business, there came along a young man who looked to be 
about my age and size.  He was leading his gal friend by the hand and 
appeared to be a little drunk.  He stopped right in front of us and 
said, "Why don't you bring that bag of bones to the dance floor and 
dance like the rest of us?" 

That sparked a fire in my bosom and before I realized it, I hit that
young fellow so hard I knocked him down hard against a barn post.  Some 
of his friends saw what I had done, and as three of them were about to 
jump on me, I drew out my hunting knife which I always carried by my 
side.  The knife was razor sharp, and I dared them to come closer.  I 
told them I didn't want to cut them, but I would not be whipped by 
three men.  The bone-handled knife I held in my hand stopped them in 
their tracks and prevented a brawl.  After a while, the young man who 
had first made the rude remark came to and told his friends that he 
deserved what I had given him.  "It was my fault," he told them. 

This gave me the opportunity to finally speak my mind to all the young
folks there. I told them I was damned tired of having to fight folks 
for calling my girlfriend names.  I called Wilma to my side.  At this 
point, she was sobbing.  I said, "Take a good look at this little gal.  
This is the woman I love.  When you call her a name, you are calling me 
a name, and I want this stopped.  Some of you who are here tonight, I 
have had to whip with my fists to get you to leave her alone. Don't you 
all know how calling someone improper names hurts them inside their 
hearts?  She cries when this happens. Look at her now.  She is crying 
again for what was said here tonight.  How would you like to have 
someone making fun of you all the time?  How would you like it if 
everywhere you went, someone called you a bad name?  I don't like 
hurting people with my fists, but as long as this name-calling 
continues, I swear by God that I will hurt the one that hurts her.  
Some of you women here shun her because you think you're better than 
she is, and you've heard what others call her.  Ain't you ashamed of 
being that way? 

"My father always told me to treat other folks as you would want to be
treated.  Now I ask each of you to do me and yourself a favor.  Accept 
each other for what you are.  Never make fun or say bad things to other 
people, and if you follow my advice, you will feel good inside your 
hearts, knowing you're not troublemakers or someone who likes to hurt 
someone else's feelings.  Who would want to be a hurtful person? 

"We have noses that can be busted, and when they are socked with a fist
they bleed.  Our hearts can bleed, just like busted noses.  I beg each 
of you to take heed of the words I have said here tonight.  If you have 
ever made fun of Wilma, either by word or in secret, come and ask her 
to forgive you.  Make her life worth living by being kind to her, like 
everyone here deserves.  Show her some respect." 

To my utter surprise, many young women came forward, with tears in their
eyes, and asked Wilma to forgive them.  They said they were truly sorry 
for their whispers and what they had said about her behind her back.  
Those I had fought in the past also came to me, asking for my 
forgiveness, which I gladly gave. 

From that night on things changed in Wilma's life.  The name calling
stopped and many of the young women made friends with Wilma.  Now she 
smiles and laughs again, and feels good about herself.  I will always 
wonder if it was the talk I gave that night, or the sharp knife I 
carried, that made the change in folks.  After people quit calling 
Wilma 'bony,' she started gaining weight and became one of the 
prettiest women this side of the Muddy Fork River. All she gets now is 
compliments and that makes her feel good about herself as a person. 

I aim to marry her as soon as I can build a shack on the land that Pappy
and Mammy gave us and then she will bear the name of Jake Smallwood.  
We have many plans for our future – perhaps a baby boy or girl after we 
are married.  Sometimes words that are spoken from a man's heart strike 
a chord with people.  That night at the barn dance was the beginning of 
a good life for two lovers.  I declare, if our lives get any better, I 
don't think my heart could stand it.  Since Mammy and Pappy never had a 
daughter of their own, they are overjoyed at having Wilma in the 
family.  In fact, Pappy was so excited, he hauled off and gave us two 
cows for our wedding present.  It's a blessing from God when a man 
meets a woman whom he earnestly loves and wants to spend his life with. 
 As for Wilma, it is true that time heals all wounds, even wounds of 
the heart and soul. 

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