Category: Fiction

Another piece of very short fiction from yesteryear, the 1998? 1999? archives. From the notes: "Bob Thomas is the owner of Kristi's Gallery in Swansboro, N.C. After 13 years as an Executive Recruiter he decided to pursue a less stressful lifestyle and moved to the North Carolina Coast. His Gallery looks out over the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway and is an outlet for the work of over 215 Artists and Craftspeople from across the United States. Since his move to the coast he has discovered a love for writing and publishes his own in house monthly newsletter. His readers have realized that his style is not "hindered" by the rules of good grammar and that he writes mainly for his own entertainment!

Many of our Mule readers know Tim Peeler the poet, but did you know that Tim was one of the first fiction writers ever published on the Mule? Yup.

from the 2000 archives. Read it again for the first time.

Another great tale straight from the 2000 archives.

Fresh from 2000 archival goodness. Published again as we peruse our backfiles... enjoy.

Marsha Nicholson, a middle manager by day, freelance writer by night, is most consistently occupied with exploring where she fits into her Appalachian heritage, and vice versa.

Southern Legitimacy Statement Grammy used to make the best rhubarb pie. Her meals were the type where every inch of the long table was covered with food: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, and vegetables from her garden, all topped off with rhubarb pie. Yum! She expressed her love for her family by making sure we all had full – I’m talking really full – tummies. She had a quick wit and what she called a “hillbilly” accent. She may not have been book smart, but she sure was love smart.

SLS...I have only become more Southern since I last submitted anything. The story series is inspired by West Alabama (going there soon to prepare for deer season) and is written in Ocean Springs, MS.

SLS: I live in the REAL south, South Carolina, and, while that statement alone should legitimize my southerosity, please indulge me. I own a wardrobe sprinkled with camouflage shirts, pants, hats even though i do not hunt. When I was young, my parents told me total bullshit stories of how my grandmother, sometimes great grandmother depending on how much PBR she had drunk, (Always a female ancestor), was a Cherokee. As I grew older and realized how many of my fellow southerners had this ridiculous mythological Cherokee ancestor I quickly ditched the story. As I type this, I am wiping the slime off of my boiled peanuts on my camouflage pants and airbrushed wolf-howling-at-the-moon-while-sitting-next-to-an-indian t-shirt that I bought from the flea market.

Southern Legitimacy Statement I grew up in Manassas, Virginia, near the battlefield. (Just 'the battlefield'). I graduated from Stonewall Jackson High School. A one-armed, long-bearded Confederate in uniform was our mascot who shot cannon blanks when touchdowns were scored at football games. It wasn't until my junior year that I understood the South had lost the war. Also, I like okra.

Southern Legitimacy Statement For southern highlanders and we who are their descendants, words are revered, but reserved and used with economy. But when the few words we use fail us, music enlarges our emotional vocabularies, and our simple ballads of love and heartbreak speak volumes.

Southern Legitimacy Statement I was born and raised in the South, occasionally eat grits, but hate football. Oh dear.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: I was born in Texas and influenced by eccentric kinfolks who were farmers, artists, graveyard caretakers and sharecroppers. I was raised on fried catfish (caught on trot-lines using blood-bait), fried chicken, collards and turnip greens. I used to help my grandmother gather poke sallet down in the bottoms. At the age of 42, I realized that I was more Southern than Texan. Since then, I haven't forgotten that.