by: Kristy Duke

An awkward silence lingers heavily over the small room that I share with my cousin as I stare silent at his muscular back, watching him getting dressed for a silent moment. My mind has been lit a fire with emotional and fear filled thoughts ever since I had returned home and heard all that my uncle had to say. How could anyone believe that I am capable of killing? I allow a ragged sigh of worry to escape me as my thoughts turn to Bo, of all that he was forced to witness last night. Watching him silently tuck in his red button up shirt, I fight back tears of worry and fear for him, of all the discriminating evidence he had described to the FBI agents, of all that he had seen. His body trembles uncontrollably as he yanks at his shirt, forcing it to be tucked into his tight denim pants and I silently say a prayer for him, for him to be OK. For someone who had looked death in the face for his first fifteen years, he has never seen someone die not alone being killed as he had witnessed last night. He has lost several friends in the pediatric floor of Tri-County Hospital to death, but Uncle Jesse had always protected him from seeing it.

“Boys!” my uncle’s angered voice booms through the house, his voice quivers in fear and worry to send my mind rushing. They’re here. Damn it. I fight back my own tears of fear as I glance around the small room that I have spent so much time at and my heart tightens in anger and frustration at being forced to leave the one place I wish to be.

I dreadfully begin to move towards our closed door as Bo quickly beats me to the door and slowly opens it with a shaky hand before walking out into the naturally lit living room. My heart races quickly within me as four large men stand near to Uncle Jesse, wearing thin dark blue wind breakers with thick bold yellow initials that reads “FBI”. My thoughts dart quickly within me from the events that happened last night to the future that looms threatenly ahead of me. Abruptly two of the four men quickly take a few steps up to me as they see me walking out of the hall way behind Bo, their eyes are filled with determination and anger.

Continue reading →

by: Kristy Duke

The bright overhead light shines brightly into my sleep filled eyes as I am slowly awakened by a soft gentle touch upon my right shoulder as well as by the soft caring voice of my elderly uncle. Looking up at him, a sparkle of hope shines in his crystal blue eyes as he forces me a small smile as he notices that I have awakened. “Mornin’ sleepy head,” he slowly says as he runs a finger through my hair for a brief moment before placing a worried _expression on his face. A sense of fear rushes through me as I fight for answers of why he is waking me up, in the past three days since I had been here, he has refused to wake me up for anything.

“What’s wrong? Is Daisy…” I slowly cut myself off as I find it even harder to breath and I fight to control my breathing, my pain.

“Shhh no,” Jesse answers straightening up, “but you have company.”

I give him another questioning look before he steps back to show me that Doctor Applebee stands a foot behind him, silently watching over his shoulder, while Luke stands silently still at the foot of my bed. Fear corses through my body as my mind rushes quickly through my mind as I stare up at Applebee, my mind rushing through what my tests came back as. “How you feelin’?” Applebee slowly manages to step around Jesse and Jesse takes a couple of steps back to join Luke. I glare at them as Applebee shines a bright light into both of my eyes before he forces me to look at him. “How you feelin, Bo?” he repeats when he don’t get an answer to it the first time.

Continue reading →

by: Kristy Duke

Emotions rush roughly through me as I silently stare out through the small window that over looks the oval shaped dirt drive way and the few trees that line the yard against the dusty dirt road. My mind rushes through the past that had brought us to Hazzard, that had led us to the farm house window that I stare out through of. Since the day dad had disappeared well over twenty-two years ago, I had dreamt of returning to Hazzard, being able to run free as I once had. And yet, as I stand in the house that seems to be my future home, I am stuck with mixed emotions and left wondering if I made the right decision. Glaring through my reflection that stares silently at me, I bring a soft gentle hand to softly brush it against the bruise that still shines on my cheeks, slowly growing lighter as time passes. If Trevor where to think of coming to Hazzard to find me, he wouldn’t think twice of hurting anyone to get to me and the kids. Abruptly I am filled with what if questions, all pertaining to Trevor finding me in Hazzard.

Glaring through the window, I watch as my eyes begin to glisten through the reflection that stares back at me before a lonely tear breaks lose to roll gently down my cheek. A week and a half has passed since Trevor’s attack and yet the memory remains clear as if it had happened last night, bringing on more fear of him finding me. The past week and a half has been filled with sleepless nights where Jamie awakes screaming and yelling, lost in one of her fits as she is certain that he will return to hurt me. She is afraid for me. Only four and a half years old and she has grown to fear her own father and being afraid of losing me or seeing me hurt through all that she has witnessed the past couple of years. If only I had been stronger for her and walked out on him long before I had, perhaps her young life wouldn’t be as scarred and troubled. She is my angel that gives me strength to awaken each morning, her and Shay.

I force myself to take a deep breath as an old rusted white truck passes by on the dusty dirt road forcing my thoughts to switch from Trevor to being reunited with the family I hadn’t seen since I was six. The old Duke farm stands the same as I remember it being so many years ago and Uncle Jesse remains as sweet and kind as he had been years ago, the only thing that seemed to change was the graying of his hair. Daisy keeps the thick long chestnut hair and the light bluish brown eyes that sparkle with mischief as she had years ago, growing only an inch taller than me into be an adult. Luke remains smart and quick witted with clever bright blue eyes and thick dark brown hair as he had been years ago though now stands well over me and muscular. Everything seems to remain the same here.

Continue reading →

by: Kristy Duke

***LUKE DUKE***

“Damn it Bo!” I yell out as frustration corses thickly through my body. Panic is quick to settle in as I once again rush through the aging farm house, the farm house I have lived my whole life in. I fight back more tears that claw at my eyes, tears of sadness of having to depart from the only place I’ve called home. I’ll never be able to call another place home. Not alone to be stuck in a foreign country fighting a war I know nothing about. My mind recounts the number stories I have learned through my training of all the men that have already died out there, in the same war they are shipping me out to. Men that had started their journey to the foreign land in order to protect our country, where I start mine, with saying good-bye to love ones.

Walking quickly through the living room, a mixture of laughter, crying, and talking echoes through my head as old memories of the past displays itself clearly within me. I slowly slow my pace down as I force myself to walk in front of the fire place to slowly take in the pictures that rest upon the small shelf. A tear slowly trickles down my left cheek as I slowly take in a picture of Bo a couple of years ago at the town’s annual picnic, a broad smile spreads across his pale face while pain radiates lively in his blue eyes.

Glancing over at the desk that lies behind the old torn couch, I quickly tear myself away from the pictures at the sight of the time that reads on the small clock that hangs above the desk. Time quickly seems to slip away, robbing me of any more time with my family and at home. “Bo!” I yell out, my voice lies thick with tears as I quickly make my way back towards the room I share with my cousin. Outside, I hear my uncle’s concerned and angered voice calling for my cousin’s name as well as they help me with my search. Of all the times to decide to show up missing, he picks now. “I don’t have time for this, Bo!”

Continue reading →

by: Kristy Duke

Chills quickly spread across my tired body as I slowly step out of the cold, dark winter night and into the local bar I have spent so much time at the past month, since I have returned home. Hugging my thick denim coat tightly against me, I stand next to my cousin as we squint through the smoke in order to see through the thick, rowdy crowd. “There he is,” I rest a caring hand upon Bo’s right shoulder to gather his attention while I point to a couple of tables squeezed together in the far back corner. Glancing over at Bo, I watch him momentarily as he continues to glare through the hazy smoke before recognition strikes in his baby blue eyes. Continuing to rest a hand upon Bo’s shoulder, I steal another glance at the table in the far away corner where Cooter, dressed in his usual grease stained clothes, sits leaning lazily against the brown wooden walls. Sitting across from him is a thin lanky man dressed in grease stained overalls with a red hat that hides his thick reddish brown curly hair, a man I have never seen before. “C’mon,” I finally motion Bo to lead the way before he slowly nods and does as he is told, “let’s go join them.”

Thick cigarette smoke lingers heavily in the dark musty air of the crowded bar as I slowly force my way in between the thin isle that lies in between the square shaped tables and chairs. Continuing to follow Bo through the thin maze of chairs to the table Cooter sits at with his friend, I fight to block out the loud laughter and talk that seems to echo off of the cheap thin walls. The old jukebox that rests upon the wall besides the wooden bar seems to come alive as it plays an old hit song by Waylon Jennings, only to contribute to the loud rough Saturday night crowd.

“LB Davenport!” Bo yells breathlessly as we slowly approach their tables and the thin lanky man sitting across the table from Cooter is quick to stand up, crazy-like excitement dances in his light brown-green eyes, “Whatchya doin’ home?”

Continue reading →