The Clammer.

He looked pitiful, hungry, the clammer did. He had been out on an oystershell bank, scratched himself up a dozen or so clams. Earned sixty cents at five cents a clam. He was sleeping over in the "Copperhead House", an abandoned house back over there on Randall Road near mile 37 (The haunted place is Mile37).

He had come down from up North looking for adventure, a new life. Lotta people like that came through The Village. Reagan was president. Most of the drifters stayed a while at the Copperhead House.

One afternoon the clammer borrowed a Bateau over at the sea food dock. He got lost out in the creeks. Spent a cold night out there the clammer did. He tore the stuffing out of his life jackets and stuffed it inside his shirt to keep warm.



One day on the way home I gave the clammer a ride, he was hungry, dirty..shuffling down the road carrying a guitar. I invited him home for dinner. At home he also had a bath and a shave and was starting to look human. At the dinner table he ate everything, including the scraps the kids had left on their plates. He later played and sang a few songs for us. He was quite good. We gave him a little bit of money, then he moved on, hitching a ride down South US Route Seventeen.

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I hope the clammer was ok after that
I hope his dreams came true

I have no idea if you've ever tried getting these published (perhaps in a longer format), but they're really lovely.

:)

two self published collections of my stories went out. Ninty nine pages. I have a second hundred being processed. Thank for your encouragement.

Just for the joy of it.

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Mr. Shakespeare. A compliment from the Master is a priceless treasure. It is great fun to tell little stories about real people. This was such a sad man. I cannot put it into words.

Welcome to DU.

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I've met a few of these types before in my time. Your story brings back memories of them.

many oneighty stories I'll bet you guys would enjoy the book