The Ruins

It was the battle of the headlights versus the Southwest Mississippi darkness. And the darkness was winning.  “It’s like driving through ink,”he thought as he flew past Alcorn State’s entrance.  He dodged a startled doe and pulled his Porsche off the road.  A turn of the key killed the engine.  The car’s headlights only lit a few feet in front of him.  Nothing but ink. About 20 feet ahead of him, the former mansion’s columns stood like haunted sentinels, guarding the surrounding countryside.  But he couldn’t see them.  And he really didn’t care.

He flicked the lights off and sat in the darkness.  One sense was now gone: Sight.  He reached out with his hearing.  An owl hooted off in distance. He could hear a creature scrambling through the brush.  He then felt the  humidity blanket him like a wet towel. He took a deep breath. Something was blooming off in distance tickled his nose. Honeysuckle? Probably. He then opened his eyes to allow his eyesight to slowly adjust to the darkness.  The 23 columns began to apparate out of the blackness on that cloudy Spring night.

The Windsor Ruins. The grand mansion written about by Twain, spared by Grant and lost to a freak fire after the Civil War.  Windsor, the glorious mystery of Port Gibson. Only scraps of its former glory remained — so much like his life.

He did his best thinking down here. He remembered the first time his parents had taken him here as a child. What magic. His eyes closed again and memories flooded through his mind. Like a drunk in Vegas, he had made a crazy bet on the wrong hand  — and then had lost everything.  Pain shot through his chest again. The darkness got even darker.

He opened the car door and lit his cigarette lighter.  A faint flicker of  flame lit his broken path as  he slowly eased over the chain.  Gravel crunched under his feet. Each step was a step away from a failed life.

He had driven 120 mph down Highway 61 that night. Secretly, he had hoped his tire would have blown out so his car would’ve hit a tree.  No luck.  He had a dark chuckle. Things were so bad that he considered having a fatal wreck good luck.

He walked over to a fallen column and leaned up against it.  He extinguished the now burning hot lighter and pondered the past few years.  The fraud. The investigations.  The collapse.  All because he had allowed his ego to drive his life’s bus.

He filled his lungs with the warm, humid nighttime air.  He held it for 10 seconds and deeply exhaled. He did it again. And again.  The columns peered down at him, like protectors of a broken soul.  He closed his eyes and prayed for redemption.  And then he broke down and cried.

Like a wounded coyote, you could hear him howl for miles.  Copious tears flowed down his face. He let go.

And at that moment, he turned his problems over to a higher source.  The release felt like the air rushing out of his lungs.

The clouds broke and a full moon rose over the horizon.  Shadows zigzagged across the now lit the path back to his car.  The columns had a luminescent glow in the moonlight.

That night a broken man did something that never happened at Windsor ruins: He began to rebuild.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

19 Responses to The Ruins

  1. Sister B says:

    Marshall, I’ve followed your cartoons for years, and enjoyed your comments on Facebook. I believe this is one of my most favorites I’ve ever read. Great job on one of the special places from my childhood.

  2. dhcoop says:

    Wow…just wow… Can’t think of other words…

  3. Mrs. H says:

    I’ve always heard of the Windsor ruins. Now I think I really need to go see them to compare the picture you just created with their reality.

  4. Pingback: A collection of my short stories | Marshall Ramsey

  5. Sue Meadows says:

    Awesome! Great job.

  6. Barb says:

    Sue beat me to it, but awesome is the only word that I can think of!!

  7. cardinallady says:

    I’m with MrsH. Makes me want to go see them. But I promise I’ll have more than a lighter in the dark. :)

  8. Mary Creasy says:

    Marshall, your powerful story introduced me to a site in Mississippi I had heard nothing about. I’ve researched Windsor Ruins and hope to go there someday. I’m glad your mom is faithful to pass along good examples of your talent.

  9. Amanda Hall says:

    Love this, beautifully written. Love the thought of having the courage to start again.

  10. clucky says:

    Beautiful story; amazing place. It’s in the sticks where even GPS can’t guide you, but worth the trip. We went a couple of years ago and got there about an hour before sunset. I don’t know that I have ever beheld such a breath-taking sight. I love the place. All the years we drove Hwy 27 from Tylertown to Vicksburg, and never stopped once to see them. I wish my Mom & Dad would have taken the time to stop and look. They would have been amazed. I cannot wait to take my girl there someday soon.

    And, whoo boy, it is a dark, curvy road to get there. Drive slowly-half the road was washed out in a curve, and had we not been going 20mph anyway, we would have been consumed by kudzu and never seen again!

  11. Pingback: Road Trip Mississippi: Windsor Ruins - Road Trip South | Road Trip South

  12. LizOwens says:

    Awesome job. I used to hunt near the Ruins of Windsor and we would ride our four-wheelers down there after dark some nights just to take in all the beauty of those columns in the moonlight. In a way, it is sad, but in another, so very majestic and uplifting. I see this is a true story, because we heard a humanlike, wolflike howling down there one night and everyone of us shuddered. We all locked our cabins that night, and prayed that there was no such thing as werewolves… after all, it wasn’t even a full moon… lol The next time we road down there, we were all driving vehicles, just in case!!

  13. Joel Wells says:

    ditto, amen, and you bet.

  14. Ron Swindall says:

    Windsor is an amazing place of history for Mississippi. I love it. I also love your story. Rebellion, Remorse, Redemption. Thank God for His Grace.

  15. CJ Applewhite says:

    Have to agree with DHcoop. Wow just Wow!! That is a great great story.

  16. bpman says:

    Sounds like fun trip to the ruins that the fam could enjoy next time we’re in MS. Seems like we may have been there when I was really young & when a little older I know we were down there touring the civil war park in vicksburg.
    I worked for an atty when I was 20 doing title searches on property. I’d been to most every courthouse in the delta, but when I went to the courthouse in Port Gibson, I enjoyed work that day in the historic area. The old courthouse had one heck of a records room. lotsa history.
    thanks for the road trip link MR!

  17. bpman says:

    of course…this reminds me of song..(http://youtu.be/bGnl3T72smc)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *