Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep If I should die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take But if I am to live Please god keep me normal —Helen Altered Grace is an autobiography written to inspire faith and hope. It is a testimony to the value of prayer and an attribute to the spirit that refuses to be destroyed. Altered Grace By A. Tacked AuthorHouse Copyright © 2017 A. Tacked All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5246-5910-3 Contents Acknowledgments, ix, Prologue, xi, Chapter 1 In the Beginning, 1, Chapter 2 The Makings of Clayton, 3, Chapter 3 Livestock, 6, Chapter 4 Berries by the Tracks, 10, Chapter 5 Blood by Morning, 13, Chapter 6 Boarding the Train, 15, Chapter 7 On the High Road, 17, Chapter 8 Hooah, 20, Chapter 9 Montana Bound, 23, Chapter 10 Unraveling, 25, Chapter 11 Dead on Arrival, 28, Chapter 12 Award of Dishonorable Discharge, 32, Chapter 13 On the Run, 35, Chapter 14 US Route 89, 38, Chapter 15 Beatrice Becomes a Woman, 43, Chapter 16 Clayton Comes to Town, 45, Chapter 17 Iodine and Mecuricome, 47, Chapter 18 Codependents, 51, Chapter 19 Marriage by Default, 54, Chapter 20 The Four-Alarm Tenement House, 57, Chapter 21 Firstborn, 61, Chapter 22 Bruises, 64, Chapter 23 Amen, 67, Chapter 24 What Big Brown Eyes You Have, 70, Chapter 25 Arrangements and Distractions, 73, Chapter 26 Aunt and Ants, 78, Chapter 27 Betrayal, 82, Chapter 28 Crawl Space, 85, Chapter 29 Stillborn, 88, Chapter 30 Crown Curtis King, 91, Chapter 31 The Birth of Patience, 94, Chapter 32 Final Jeopardy, 98, Chapter 33 Baby of the Family, 102, Chapter 34 Rules and Requirements, 107, Chapter 35 The Wheelbarrow Drunk, 111, Chapter 36 Beds and Beetles, 115, Chapter 37 Follies of the Fruit, 118, Chapter 38 Drifters, 122, Chapter 39 Roman Baths, 126, Chapter 40 Mystery Meat, 130, Chapter 41 Beat to the Hum of a Different Tune, 133, Chapter 42 Blackbird, 136, Chapter 43 Brooms and Dust Mops, a Summer Break, 140, Chapter 44 Sink or Swim, 143, Chapter 45 A Ruse, 148, Chapter 46 Music Man, the Last Post, 153, Chapter 47 Cry Foul and Chew Like a Man, 157, Chapter 48 Watchers, 162, Chapter 49 You Think You Are Pretty?, 164, Chapter 50 Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, 170, Chapter 51 Carpe Diem, 178, Chapter 52 Prison-Striped Twin, 182, Chapter 53 Raise the Candles High, 186, Chapter 54 Visitors, 191, Chapter 55 Season of the Bees, 195, Chapter 56 Shackled, 199, Chapter 57 That Girl and Those Girls, 205, Chapter 58 Packaged Food, 211, Chapter 59 The Man in the Blue Polyester Pants, 215, Chapter 60 Aponi, 223, Chapter 61 Black and White and Wedding Bells, 231, Chapter 62 Flying Monkeys, 238, Chapter 63 Batten Down the Hatches, Stormy Seas Ahead, 246, Chapter 64 Last to Leave, 254, Contemptus, 261, About the Author, 263, About the Book, 263, CHAPTER 1 In the Beginning The tiny house sat vacant, hidden from sight by cattails, tall weeds, and overgrown nettle — nature's barbed wire. Years had passed since the house had actually been lived in. Even then, it had only seen short-term tenants throughout the years, none staying long enough to warm the place with human touch. Looking more like a large shed than a house, it bore two rooms and a small porch, which had been added in hopes of giving it a homey look. The porch, really no more than a slab of cement, had cracked from harsh winters, causing it to lean to one side. This was nobody's home sweet home. Standing outside after dusk, if you listened carefully, you could hear voices murmuring in the wind. An unsettling eeriness had long ago set up residence on the property. Lonely and abandoned, it would be a long while before it would see inhabitants other than the ones that had been living there in the shadows all along. As time marched on, years later, my family would inhabit the simple house tucked away in the cattails. Evil would be getting long-term houseguests, some it could relate to. Mama and Papa would be coming home. I have waited more than thirty years to tell my story. Since the day I walked out of the front door and into the afternoon sunshine, free for the first time in my life, I knew this day would come. As I said good-bye to the innocent spirits still trapped, the ones that had comforted me for all those years, I knew this day would come. Time has a way of healing hearts that one would never believe could mend. I once lived under a paralyzing fear so powerful that even the deaths of those responsible couldn't give me true comfort. In their deaths, the path remains obscure at times. Although the physical body dies when the heart beats no more, the demons can grow stronger. Days, like the repetitive motion of a swinging pendulum, came and went. Remaining normal through it all became the only true goal, the precious pot of gold at the end of a blackened rainbow. Despair wrestled with hope. Sometimes the sinking feelings felt much like deep holes dug