The book that inspired The Bitter End Story Contest:
Ana Leigh Watkins escapes to Bitter End, Tennessee, longing for a summer of quiet solace. But instead of rest, she’s swept up in a decades-old feud born from a moonshiner’s daughter’s forbidden love for a preacher’s son.
To celebrate the upcoming release of The Bitter End Birding Society, readers and writers were invited to dream up their own version of how the (real, but long-forgotten) Appalachian town of Bitter End got its name.
From sweet and sentimental to hilarious to heartbreaking, these short stories and theories are as unique as the folks who wrote them.
These were the five entries that received the most votes!
Titles:
Click on the titles that catch your eye or scroll through and read them all!
To The Bitter End, by Pauline Trummel
Daniel hesitantly entered his tiny Carolina cabin. He had, what he hoped would be, good news to tell his wife, Priscilla, but he wasn’t sure how she’d respond. A group of locals was talking about leaving the South Carolina coast to explore the frontier for a new and larger homeland. Daniel excitedly told her about the group’s plan to start a new town.
Pausing to take a deep breath he blurted out, “What about us going?”
“Darlin’, I’ll follow you to the bitter end,” she assured him.
When several families committed to establishing a new town site on the frontier, Daniel and Priscilla packed, said goodbye to friends, and departed. Although a bit unexpected by the exuberant men, the trip was fraught with broken wheels, sickness, rough trails, lack of food, and exhaustion. After traveling for four hard weeks, Priscilla could take no more. She was tired, hungry, and impatient. As night set in, the men gathered around the fire, discussing how much longer to continue. Most wanted to discover new areas further on, but some debated the wisdom of that prospect. Sitting down next to her husband, Priscilla sighed. “As I promised, I’d follow you to the bitter end, and THIS, Daniel, IS the bitter end.”
Over the next few weeks as they began exploring possible homesites and laying out plans, they laughed together with Daniel, “Well, thanks to Priscilla, I think we have our town’s name–Bitter End.” And soon, although no one ever knew where it came from, a rough sign was propped up for all to see: “This here’s Priscilla’s BITTER END founded 1795.”
The Day She Found Bitter End, by Rebecca Hastings
I turned the radio dial, eager to drown out the sounds of my past. I sang along for a few lines, willing the upbeat music to salvage my mood, but it was no use. Running from something always leaves its mark. And I was definitely running.
I gulped another sip of the once-hot coffee I grabbed at the gas station on my way out of town. The overly friendly cashier asked where I was headed.
“Anywhere but here,” I grumbled, shaking my head and dropping three singles on the counter. Reaching the door, I looked back, adding, “You should probably do the same.”
If I hadn’t been so mad, I would have felt bad about the way I responded. I could afford coffee, but I couldn’t afford regrets. Hours later, I couldn’t shake our interaction. That girl didn’t deserve my baggage. She was just doing her job. She probably hadn’t messed up her life the way I did.
The truth was, I had no idea where I was going. I just knew I had to get away from the people I cared about. No matter how hard I tried to love them, I couldn’t seem to get it right. Especially this time.
I spied a green sign coming up fast as I drove. Getting closer, I read the block letters: LAST EXIT FOR 48 MILES. The number caused me to pause. My old house number. The one I lived at before I lost everything. I eased my foot off the accelerator for a beat. Maybe… a cobweb of hope caught in the corner of my heart.
With the next breath, I scoffed, shaking it away as I forced the pedal to the floor. Passing the exit, I pressed on, watching the miles fly by and yesterday disappear in my rearview mirror. I wasn’t going back, ever.
When my low-fuel light came on, I was grateful I’d made it most of those 48 miles. I promised myself I’d get off at the next exit. I’d been driving the better part of three days with no GPS or direction. I had no idea what town I was in as I pulled into the ramshackle service station. I didn’t even know what state I was in. All I knew was it wasn’t home.
Stretching my legs and back, I grabbed the almost-empty coffee cup and made my way inside. Paying the cashier my last twenty, I asked where I was.
Furrowing his brow, he replied, “You don’t know where you are?”
Taking the last swig of old coffee, the bitterness startled me. It was appropriate somehow. Looking out the window, I took a long, deep breath and replied, “I know exactly where I am. I’m at the Bitter End.”
The man laughed a scruffy laugh, evidence of his own running journey. He understood. And that’s where it began. This little town in nowhere special, Tennessee became known as Bitter End.
Howard’s Bitter End, by Barbara Collie
Howard was trying to find a place to settle in these beautiful mountains. Nowhere seemed to work out for him. Most places were too rocky, too hilly, too this, too that. He thought he was at the end of his rope when he stumbled, literally, upon the perfect location. It had beautiful views, streams, good dirt for planting, and the perfect site for a cabin. Being a sailor in his former life, Howard decided to name the area Bitter End, after the end of the rope on a ship’s anchor. It had been a long, ropy journey to get to this beautiful area and this was the place to finally set anchor. And now, with gorgeous land and a spot for a cabin, maybe he could rope a certain young lady into marrying him.
Love Remains in Bitter End, by Myrtle Regina Slusher
Elroy and Earlene spent the first few years of their marriage trying to find a place they could call home. Easy as that may be for some, it was a struggle for them. People say they forgive wrongs, but are you truly forgiven if the deeds of the past still linger in the minds of those you know?
Even though Elroy and Earlene hadn’t personally done anything wrong, the town’s people just couldn’t seem to let go of the offences of their families. So that’s where the story begins. This loving couple set out on a journey to find a place they could call home and raise a family who wouldn’t have to live under a dark cloud or the scrutiny of people who couldn’t look past the flesh to see the heart.
After three years of wandering from one place to the next, working whatever jobs were available, and saving every penny they could, Elroy and Earlene finally found a place they could call home. A place where they found peace and rest.
Most of the people that came to this place were just like them, good people that had been misjudged or abused, treated as outcasts, and just longing for a place to call home. After a meeting was called all the town’s people unanimously agreed that the name of this new place they called home should be called Bitter End because this is where the bitterness they had faced in their lives ended and they were allowed to live freely with peace, joy, and love.
A Late Winter Day, by Heather Ann
Winter is finally at its end. I can feel it in my 80-year-old bones. My food stores are nearly gone. I’m down to just a little flour. cornmeal, sugar, eggs from the chickens who are just starting to lay again, plus what God provides in nature.
Thankfully, I hear the wood frogs starting to croak, so it’s time to go forage for food. I’ll be thankful to discover what the Good Lord provides for me from the land. It was a rough, long winter – snowier than most, but I survived. I hadn’t been down the mountain and walked the mile into town since Fall. Even though it’s a mile, I’m not fond of the people that invaded the mountain my family has called home for over 100 years. They are just too close to the land my family claimed a couple of generations ago.
I strap on my boots, pop a stale piece of two-day-old bread in my mouth and take off into the woods. I walk up the mountain a bit and down again. Everything is starting to turn green, the sky is bright blue with white wispy clouds, and birds are singing happily in the trees. However, my focus is on something else.
I see some of the green hairy bittercress I’d been eating all winter, when I could dig it out of the snow. I pick some and put it in my basket. It, along with an egg from one of my chickens, will pair well with what I really hope to find today.
I find the stream and wander down and reach the pond. Just beyond the pond in the woods, I finally spy my favorite of nature’s gifts – the garlicky, oniony ramp. Paired with the hairy bittercress it marks one of the most important times of year for me.
These two foods, foraged from the land the Lord provided to me and my ancestors, mark the bitter end of winter. We were here long before the outsiders came to the area. When the outsiders arrived and asked what we called this area of what they came to call Tennessee, we said we called the area “Bitter End”. It’s called “Bitter End” because we always looked forward to the bitter end of winter when God allowed the land to wake up and provide plentiful food to feed our family.
Though I’m the last left of our family on this mountain, the name we gave our little part of the world, Bitter End, lives on for generations of outsiders to wonder at the meaning behind the name. Everyone is surprised when they hear why we call it that, thinking it was because of some silly feud, but to me and the generations before, it’s just home, until I’m called home to heaven to be with the Lord.