Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:04):
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator, and author. We hear at the ten
minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
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pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit many novels on steroids.
This week we meet Constance. Constance Silence, the fifth of
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nine children. She bore five children of her own, two surviving.
The short, unhappy life of Constance Silence unnerves and disenheartens
the hardest souls. But alas her story is as common
as past gas, Constance Silence, No one really remembers Constance,
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not her surviving siblings, not her husbands, not her two
now grown children. Her life burned dimly and only briefly,
just one score plus three between birth and death. Constance
had a vanquished mother and a hard father, siblings both
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older and younger, no education to speak of beyond the
basics of reading and writing, no books in the house
other than a Bible covered with dust. Any spark of
personality Constants might have posses was suffocated by the relentless
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drudgery of daily chores. She was thin and plain, and
most of the time so quiet. Folks asked if Constance
was mute her father Jared's silence. A wheelwright and plow jockey,
had been beaten by a stepfather, and so viewed the
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world with a jaundiced eye. He had never known joy
and could not tolerate the thing in others. Jared did
everything in his power to make the lives of his
wife and children joyless. He never smiled, never offered a
kind word, never bounced a baby on his knee, never
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brought his wife a flower or his children a toy.
When money ran low or he drank too many spirits,
Jared's nature turned menacing, and the children hid under their
beds or out in the shed. As a boy, Jared
had been backhanded for no offense, and so swinging with
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impunity came naturally. He had struck his wife so many
times she cowered like a beaten dog. Constance, of all
the nine children, due to her quiet and gentle nature,
suffered the most from this domestic horror. She developed a
nervous tick that made her shoulders a neck twitch, uncontrollably.
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Her dark gray eyes blinked incessantly, and when her father roared,
Constance's whole body trembled. She ate but little, as her
stomach revolted from even small quantities of food. Sleep was
its own form of torture, as she had terrible dreams
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of being held under water or trapped in a burning building.
These dreams stirred her awake many times during the night.
In this way, Constance passed her youth. When she turned fifteen,
she was given in matrimony to a man nearly twice
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her age. She could only hope the man would be
a good man, a kind man. His name was Luther Silence,
a distant cousin who lived several villages to the north.
Luther was a hog farmer and distiller of moonshine. He
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had already buried two wives and was looking for a
third wife to take care of his five children and
add a few more to his brood. The oldest of
these children, a boy, was but a few years younger
than Constance. There was a wedding, and that night the
marriage was consummated. Although any sane or civilized person would
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have called it the rape of a miner, plain and
simple Constance bore the pain and humility of forced sex
with a clenched teeth and a nearly unbearable sadness. A
homecoming to her father's doomed and dreadful house would have
been paradise compared to the bed of this foul and
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practically toothless man who smelled of stale sweat and pig shit.
Constance cared for his five children. She cooked their meals
and cleaned their plates, and mended their tattered clothes. They
mocked her incessantly, called her deaf and dumb because she
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never spoke and seemed not to hear a word they said.
Soon she grew heavy with child. The baby came early,
with a deformed head and big bug eyes. Luther took
it down to the creek and drowned it. A second
baby was the same, and then a third. Constance and Luther,
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it turned out, were not distant cousins at all, but
rather two close cousins who shared the same great grandparents.
Luther took Constance back to her father. Her mother had
died some months earlier, and the rest of her siblings
had flown the nest. Jared had a new woman, a
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stout scullery maid with a foul mouth and a fireplace poker.
She forced Constance to do all the cooking and cleaning
and garbage hauling. If Constance dawdled, that chubby bitch would
give her a hard thwack with the poker. Because the
scullery maid performed the most amazing magic tricks in the sack,
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Jared merely snickered and looked the other way when his
mistress abused his daughter. In this way, life went along
until that winter when the pestilence swept through the village.
First Jared, then the scullery maid, and finally Constance lay
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sick with the virus. Fever, rash, nausea and hallucinations ravaged
the house. Constance, after a long convalescence, recovered, Jared and
his scullery maid succumbed. Constance inherited the house, and word
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quickly spread that the silence woman was a property owner.
The suitors came scurrying. Constance fell for one who was
silly and made her smile. She could not remember the
last time she had smiled, had she ever smiled even once?
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They married and he moved into the house, and they
consummated their marriage in a quiet and pleasant manner. The
honeymoon went on for several weeks, long enough for Constance
to think they would live happily. Ever after, Constance silence
was for the first time in her life, happy, content
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at peace. She grew heavy with child. A seven pound
baby girl was born some months later, whole and healthy
and jolly. Mama held that baby to her swollen bosom
hours and hours. Every day that baby was Constance felt
certain a miracle. Her husband grew jealous of the baby,
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of the bond between his wife and daughter. He grew
irritable and indolent. He took up with horrors and daily
lost his temper. One night, the baby wailing from one
ailment or another, he ordered Constance to shut the child up.
When this proved difficult, he smacked his wife halfway across
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the room, and then a moment later he fell upon her,
sobbing and repentant and promising to never ever strike her again.
Constance was such a fool to believe him, but what
could she do. She was just a woman, So she
gave herself to him that very night, and nine months
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later a second baby girl arrived, whole and healthy, but
this babe proved even noisier than the first, and took
up even more of her mother's time. The father grew
bolder and bolder with his hands, struck his wife so
hard one evening she saw stars, fell back, struck her
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head on the fireplace, and went into a coma. She
lay in that state for some time, and then perished
just a few days after her twenty third birthday. A
bald up piece of paper and a dusty bible were
found shoved in the back of Constance's dresser drawer. On
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the paper, or scribbled these words in her jittery hand.
Good God, it is nothing more than muscle and Timothy
chapter two, verses nine through fourteen, that has ruined sweet
life for all us. Quiet ladies, Thanks for listening to
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this original audio presentation of Constance Silence, narrated by the author.
If you enjoy today's story, please take a few seconds
to rate, review, and subscribe to this podcast, and then
go to Thomas William Simpson dot com for additional information
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about the author and to view his extensive canon. The
ten Minute Storyteller is produced by Andrew Pleglici and Josh
Colotney and as part of the Elvis Duran Podcast Network
in partnership with Iheartproductions. Until next time, this is Bill Simpson,
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your ten minute storyteller,