Essay-small town terror

Strangely, all this had changed overnight, and the preconceptions I had about our peaceful country and the glorious right to vote were beginning to sound as a sour note.

The lines in his face seemed to be carved with determination, and with unfaltering stride he quickly mounted the steps to the building.

Dogs and children had romped freely on the sidewalks, while women browsed in the stores for hours without buying anything.

Situated between majestic mountains and rolling hills, Benton is much like any other small eastern Tennessee settlement.

As this unbelievable information was being given, I sat petrified, trying to convince myself that this was the same town where, only yesterday, old men in dirty overalls lounged around the courthouse, spitting tobacco and discussing the forthcoming election.

Dogs and children had romped freely on the sidewalks, while women browsed in the stores for hours without buying anything.

As my grandfather's dilapidated Ford approached the town's only traffic light, we were greeted-not by flashing red, yellow or green--but by uniformed National Guardsmen armed with guns and appearing much out of place in such placid surroundings.

As our vehicle slowed to a stop, I was aghast as I saw before me a huge machine gun, pointed in our direction.

As the car was being searched, we learned the reason for such drastic precautionary measures.

As this unbelievable information was being given, I sat petrified, trying to convince myself that this was the same town where, only yesterday, old men in dirty overalls lounged around the courthouse, spitting tobacco and discussing the forthcoming election.

Country life offered little excitement, but that day an air of uneasiness replaced the usual contentment one felt while passing aged buildings, their drabness contrasted sharply by a few colorful, modern improvements.

As this unbelievable information was being given, I sat petrified, trying to convince myself that this was the same town where, only yesterday, old men in dirty overalls lounged around the courthouse, spitting tobacco and discussing the forthcoming election.

As my grandfather's dilapidated Ford approached the town's only traffic light, we were greeted-not by flashing red, yellow or green--but by uniformed National Guardsmen armed with guns and appearing much out of place in such placid surroundings.

Just routine procedure."

Just routine procedure."

"He'll probably go home," I mused to myself as my grandfather began changing the gears to move on.

Having spent the first ten years of my life here, it was easy to detect any change in the town's mood.

The lines in his face seemed to be carved with determination, and with unfaltering stride he quickly mounted the steps to the building.

The lines in his face seemed to be carved with determination, and with unfaltering stride he quickly mounted the steps to the building.

Most noticeable was the absence of children.

I pondered the worried expression on the faces of the few people we saw on the streets.