Buddy Carmody

Shelter County, West Virginia. Late July 1963.
No one was safe walking to church in the dark, but Buddy knew better than to beg not to go. While Dad was away in Carolina in prison, Buddy and Mam had walked down the road to the clapboard building maybe three nights a week, winter and summer, and every Sunday. Then home was like it used to be. He and Mam would play crazy eights and slapjack at the table, and pop corn on the stove in the covered skillet. Now they went to church only if Dad was asleep, and lately he drank himself into a stupor most nights.