The beloved Southern writer Flannery O'Connor declared, all human nature vigorously resists grace because
grace changes us and the change is painful. We have for you a special
presentation from Fireside Mystery Productions. Grace was written and performed by our own Belle
of East Tennessee, Miss Alison Gwynn. Deeply inspired by the life and legends
of her beloved Grannie, Allison takes us on a trip down a dark and
twisted path that edges along a remote and forgotten patch of Appalachia. It's a
bittersweet tale of isolation, cruelty, a lingering sense of menace, but also
love, all laced and latticed with a distinct Southern Gothic style. Daisy never
had a toy that was all around, never had a toy that belonged only
to her. You see, she was raised by her grandparents after her mother
and father died, and during the Depression. Well you should be thankful for
what little you got, so Daisy hardly ever had anything to call her own.
Her grandparents took Daisy under their roof, but raised her more as a
servant than as a granddaughter. And when she was done doing chores for her
grandparents, she was sent to her aunts and uncles houses to do things for
them. Now, the only thing that little eight year old Daisy owned that
was completely her own was a pine cone, a pine cone named Fluff,
who she dressed up as a squirrel using scraps of flower bags and sackcloth.
I ain't that the most pathetic thing ever heard. She and Fluff were very
happy until one day Daisy's grandpa caught her playing with little Fluff instead of bringing
in the eggs from the chicken coop, and Grandpa grabbed little fluffin throw him
in the woodstove. After Fluff's passin rest in peace, poor little Daisy never
had another toy. If she was lucky, she could look at her cousin,
Virginia's dolls when she went over to her aunt Roberta's house to do chores
there. Virginia was Daisy's age, but because she had a mamma and daddy
that loved her, she was well looked after and was rather plump and rosy
cheeked, and dressed in the finest dresses the catalogs had to offer. She
was quite the opposite of Daisy, who looked like a sad little scarecrow,
filthy and joined eyed, with hair sticking out every which way like pieces of
hey. Daisy was helping her aunt Roberta, hang clothes one morning when Virginia
came prancing out and revealed her newest play. Purdy look cousin. Daddy gave
me a new doll. Her name is Grace, ain't she purdy? Daisy
gasped, she'd never seen a doll so beautiful. The doll had blonde ringlets,
an a face of white porcelain so flawless, an fine, with little
hints of blush on her cheeks as pink as the crape myrtle in summer.
Grace the doll was dressed in a roughly corn flowered blue dress, a blue
that matched her shining glass eyes, which were framed with thick, curled black
lashes. Virginia got closer to Daisy so she could get a real good luck
at Grace. An Daisy could swear she smelled honeysuckle wafting from Grace's golden curls.
She sleeps TiO let. Virginia tipped the doll to lie on her back,
an sure enough, little Grace closed to her brilliant glass eyes. Daisy
stared in amazement, but instantly felt away eave of sadness. She knew she'd
never have anything as fine and purty. Before she could stop herself, she
stretched out her arms longingly, reaching out to Grace, hoping her little porcel
in the hand would grab onto Daisy's dusty palm. And the next thing she
felt was the sting of a slap across her right cheek. She opened her
eyes to see Virginia fuming at her. How dare you You can't touch her?
You're filthy, you smell and you'll get Grace all dirty. And with
that, Virginia flounced off, and the glorious Grace was gone, leaving a
waft of funny suckle behind her. Daisy's cheeks flushed with shame when she heard
her cousin's rude words. She couldn't smell herself, but she couldn't remember the
last time her grandparents permitted her to have a bath. All of a sudden,
she was filled with anger at the unfairness of it all. It wasn't
her fault that she smelled bad and that she was dirty. It wasn't her
fault that her parents died and left her all alone. Why was she being
punished this way, Daisy, Stop dreaming and get back to hanging them clothes.
Then you can sweep out the house. Oh, and get started on
the fireplace. Aunt Roberta bellat across the yard, and Daisy snapped back to
work, knowing that she'd get a spanking if she did any more lollygagging.
But all the while she worked, her mind was on Grace the doll.
Later on, as she was sweeping the hallway, Daisy noticed Grace lying on
top of Virginia's unmade bed. She could hear her cousin outside playing with her
brothers. She checked for signs of her aunt. The coast was clear,
so she crept into Virginia's room and slowly and carefully picked up Grace, and
oh, what a strange feeling came over her. Daisy, never having anyone
to love her or care for her, looked at the doll and she actually
felt what she guessed was genuine, honest to goodness love, not only for
the doll, but she had the feeling that Grace the doll loved her back,
and the feeling was so wonderful, it was like she had been starving
all her life, and then in that moment, gobbled up every bit of
lofe she was feeling right up. She hugged and rocked Grace over and over
and found herself making a little song for her. You're my Gracie. I
love you, so you're my Gracie. Please never go, stay by my
side, saying you be mine who he'll be friends till the end of time.
If any one should take you, they'll regret it till they're dying day.
Aunt Daisy was so enthralled and consumed with this new feeling that she started
singing louder and louder, and her singing caught the attention of Aunt Roberta,
who promptly snatched the doll from Daisy's arms. As she was doing so,
Daisy could have sworn that for a split second she could feel the doll's hand
grit tightly to hers. Virginia bellowed Aunt Roberta, go get me a switch.
Daisy's cousin came running with one of the strongest twigs in the yard and
a smile bigger than the cheshire cats, and with that switch, Aunt Roberta
gave Daisy one of the biggest whoopings in memory. But what stinged more than
the spanking was the sound of Virginia laughing with glee at her cousin's pain and
the sight of her holding little Grace in her arms. Virginia was gloating until
all of a sudden I screamed out in pain and threw the doll to the
ground. Virginia held on to her shoulder and continued to holler and carry on
like she was the one who had gotten the whooping. She bit me.
Virginia yelled out and pointed to the lifeless doll laying on the ground. Aunt
Roberta rushed to her daughter's side and checked her shoulder. Sure enough, there
was a big welt on her shoulder, the same should she was holding Grace
against. Oh come now, it must be a spider or some kind of
bug. They crawl inside when the weather gets cold, like it does his
timey year. Oh come on now, sugar, don't cry. Aunt Roberta
hugged, didn't kiss Virginia until eventually she calmed down. After drying her tears,
Virginia picked up Grace off the floor, dusted her off, and gave
her a tentative sniff. Mamma will have to wash her. She stinks like
Daisy, and holding the doll at arm's length, she put Grace away in
the cupboard. Daisy walked back to her grandparents house, and all the way
home she sang her song to Grace. You're mind, Gracie. I love
you so you're mind, Gracie. Please never go, stay by my side,
Say you'll be mine. We'll be friends still the end of time.
If anyone should take you away, they'll regret it till they're dying. Day,
despite the whooping and meanness from her cousin Virginia and Aunt Roberta, she
found herself actually happy. For the first time, she felt affection and love.
Someone loved her, and she loved them right back. Now. Daisy
didn't sleep on a bed. She slept with a ratty blanket on the floor
next to the woodstove. Most of the time she awoke with shivers because the
fire went out, and that's how she knew when it was time to wake
up and start the day's unending lust of chores. Tonight, however, she
wasn't awoken by the shiver of chilly air, but by a smell. The
smell of honeysuckle. Daisy's eyes popped open into her surprise. Laying beside her
was Grace. She squealed with the light and hugged and kissed the doll,
and again that warm feeling that Grace loved her washed over her, and she
rocked and hugged her, singing her little song for Grace over and over until
she must have lulled herself back to sleep. The next thing she knew,
she woke to the feeling that she was having her arm jerked out of its
socket as the doll was taken away from her, and Grandpa began to shout
and shake her, and she saw Aunt Roberta looking furious behind him, with
the doll in her arms. Grandpa shook her so hard her teeth chattered.
After all we done for you, you steal We brought you in, put
food in your belly, and clothes on your back, and this is how
you repay us. But being a thief, you went in the middle of
the night to your Aunt Roberta's house and stole your cousin's doll and scratched up
poor Virginia so bad she was bleeding. I ought to throw you out,
nor would if I weren't a Christian. Well, the bubble says an offering
eye. So I reckon, we should give you back some of the pain
you gave your cousin. Last night, Daisy was made to bend over a
chair and bare her legs. Grandpa got his belt off the hook on the
wall, and a pain bigger than Daisy ever felt before radiated from the back
of her legs at the top of her head as she screamed out in pain.
Then she felt a trickle down her legs, and she couldn't tell if
it was blood or if she'd pete herself. She was in such agony.
See Grandpa, for the first time ever, used the buckle into the bout
to whoop Daisy with and it was so bad the poor thing passed out.
Daisy opened her eyes to find pitch blackness. She heard the sound of the
cowlow and and can smell hay and animals. She was in the barn.
Having no lantern, she managed to stand and edge her way to a small
crack of moonlight she saw at the door. She tried to open the heavy
wooden barn door, but it wouldn't budge, and she could hear the clank
of change that Grandpa had locked her in with. The horrible stinging in her
legs reminded her of what had happened, and Daisy began to weep. She
didn't know how the doll had gotten to her, but she knew she wasn't
a thief. She wept for the pain of her legs and the pain of
her heart to have the only person who loved her ripped from her arms,
her little Gracie. She wept because instead of getting love from her grandparents,
she received only meanness from her Grandpa and cold distance from her grandma. She
wept because she never knew the love of her Mamma and Daddy. She finally
wept because she was scared she would never know any love ever again. She
found a dry patch on the ground and curled up into a ball and began
to rock. She rocked and hugged herself because she needed comfort. She wished
her Gracie was with her again. She sang to eas her sorrow and made
a wish that Gracie was in her arms. You're my Gracie. I love
you so you're mind Gracie, please never go. My wind picked up as
she sang, the cow started to move, and the horse swimming. The
chickens cackled, and the trees creaked and rustled. Something furious. Scared by
the sudden wither, she continued to rock and sing, thinking of Grace,
singing stronger, wishing stay by my side, Say you'll be mine, We'll
be friends till the end of time. The wind grew stronger, yet as
she sang, she thought the roof would be torn off the barn. Not
knowing what to do, she continued to sing to Grace, almost as a
plea for help if any one should take you away. There was such a
commotion that she could have snored. She heard her grandpa yelling and her grandma
screaming. She carried on, and Daisy sang harder, they'll read and until
they're dying day. And suddenly, as soon as it started, the wind
stopped, and there was silence, complete silence. Then footsteps, tiny footsteps,
quick footsteps, and a little giggle, the giggle of a small child,
and the rustle of the chains that dropped to the ground, and the
door opened. I'm your grafy. I love you so I'm your grafy.
Please never come scape over my side. Say you'll be mine, You'll be
friends till the end of time. If any one should take you, they're
regretting till their dying day. The next morning, Aunt Roberta woke up to
find that Grace had disappeared again. In a fury, she rushed over to
Grandma and Grandpa's house to find it in disarray. Grandma and Grandpa's bodies were
found with signs of a struggle and looks of terror on their faces. Someone
had cut them with Grandpa's straight raizer. She noticed tiny muddy footprints leading out
the back door heading to the barn. When she checked the barn, she
found it completely empty, only a pile of chain outside the front and the
cow roaming around outside. Daisy and Grace were never seen or heard from again.
But in the fall, if you go up Martin's Creek here in East
Tennessee on a stormy night, funks up here say that you can hear little
girls laughing and smell honeysuckle in the wind. We sure hope you enjoyed this
special presentation from Fireside Mystery Productions. Grace was written and performed by Alison Gwynn.
It was directed, produced, and edited by me Ali Silva, with
additional production assistants by Faith Johnson, Mary Murphy and Gustavo Rodriguez. The original
music you heard was composed and performed by Alison Gwynn on autoharp with Amelia Cormack
on fiddle. We're still here, folks, and we hope that you'll keep
an eye on our podcast feed for some exciting new content to come, featuring
characters both new and familiar. Also consider becoming a Patreon patron just like Jeannette
Howell age in that Oh. We are super grateful to you for your support.
I'm really excited that you've joined our amazing Patreon family. Y'all are the
heroes that keep us going, especially when we forget our own advice and get
a bit lost in the shadows. Your generous patronage means the world to us
and bolsters and encourages all of our future endeavors. For all things fireside,
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wealth of creepy content on our podcast feed with nearly a decade's worth of episodes,
and it's all free. Go on and let the sweet honeysuckle scented breeze
guide you along that wooded trail, but be sure to stick to the path
and away from the darkest shade of the oaks and the sycamores, where you
know you best mind the shadows