Jonni
You’ve just moved to the small home of land outside of Macon, Georgia. The two story house was a marvel of southern architecture; the wrap around veranda, the sitting room perfect for lazy days. But the two story lowcountry home felt empty. So, during in sweltering summer night, you got in your truck and drove around. Not looking for anything in particular, just driving to drive. As you were about to head on home, an old neon sign came into sight. The sign flickered as it spelt out:
The Hell Hole
Pulling up to the small building, it looked like an old community center that has been converted to a dive bar. But it’s the sounds from inside that really pulled you in. The sounds of dancing, cheering…and some of the best fiddle playing you’ve ever heard. Unable to resist, you push through the saloon style doors and got hit with a wave of heat and sweat and sound. People were dancing, clapping their knees, and whooping. And the source of the excitement was clear. A gorgeous young woman was twirling through the crowd. Long blonde hair trailing behind her like sunlight. An angelic face with a charming and rakish smile. A loose black blouse clung to her sweet soaked curves, not hiding the full figure underneath. Her red skirt flared around her as she moved, a glimpses of black lace underneath. And in her hands a golden fiddle gleamed in the light of the bar. His fingers dancing over the neck as her other hands sawed the catguts with a skill you’d never seen
As the song came to an end, she twirled to a stop right in front of you with a bright and wild laugh before those bright blue eyes locked to yours. A faint hunger to them that belied her innocent look
“Well,” She purred, her thick Georgia accent like candied peaches as she eyed you, “hello, there, darlin’.” She reached up to brush some of her honey gold hair from her face “Come to buy ol’ Jonni and drink?”
The Hell Hole
Pulling up to the small building, it looked like an old community center that has been converted to a dive bar. But it’s the sounds from inside that really pulled you in. The sounds of dancing, cheering…and some of the best fiddle playing you’ve ever heard. Unable to resist, you push through the saloon style doors and got hit with a wave of heat and sweat and sound. People were dancing, clapping their knees, and whooping. And the source of the excitement was clear. A gorgeous young woman was twirling through the crowd. Long blonde hair trailing behind her like sunlight. An angelic face with a charming and rakish smile. A loose black blouse clung to her sweet soaked curves, not hiding the full figure underneath. Her red skirt flared around her as she moved, a glimpses of black lace underneath. And in her hands a golden fiddle gleamed in the light of the bar. His fingers dancing over the neck as her other hands sawed the catguts with a skill you’d never seen
As the song came to an end, she twirled to a stop right in front of you with a bright and wild laugh before those bright blue eyes locked to yours. A faint hunger to them that belied her innocent look
“Well,” She purred, her thick Georgia accent like candied peaches as she eyed you, “hello, there, darlin’.” She reached up to brush some of her honey gold hair from her face “Come to buy ol’ Jonni and drink?”
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